#BUT JESUS CHRIST IT'S SO MUCH HOTTER THAN I EXPECTED

[achromic-red-dreams-doze-angrily]

send help

[lovejosephquinn]

Hey can you do an smutty story that start with the reader and Joe baking a cake, then the reader start to sucking Joe's fingers (maybe dirty for the cream) and then...well...let me know.

Thank you so much! You're amazing ❤️

I'll do my very best just for you, angel. 👀

You're amazing anon, thank YOU! ❤

Word Count: 1.7k

UNDER 18'S DNI TYSM. Smut. Smut. Smut. Maybe the most minimal amount of fluff if you look hard enough.

On a rainy, cold Saturday afternoon, what's better than going out and getting soaked? Yes, that's right, Joe's bright spark idea was that he insisted you made a cake together. You'd got Christmas music blasting through the speakers in the living room which echoed through to the kitchen to brighten your moods, Joe occasionally wrapping his arms around you swaying you from side to side or forcing you into a sloppy and very much uncoordinated dance routine, men with two left feet are funny to say the least, even if he did step on your toes a couple of times.

Joe put the cake mix into the oven, setting a timer for 30 minutes whilst you got started on the cream frosting to go on top, whipping it as quickly as you could using every muscle you could find in your arm. "Taste test?" you offered the bowl to him, nodding your head along to the beat of the music.

Joe swiped his finger into the mix, a dollop of the frosting about to fall from his finger just catching it in his mouth. "That's good love, it's going to taste amazing."

You set the bowl back onto the countertop and turned away for a second, the moment you moved back round to face Joe, you caught him licking the spoon like a child. "Hang on, that's not fair! Save me a a bit will you?" you whined dramatically. Joe quickly stuck his finger taking a decent sized lump of cream onto it, moving his finger out to you, you happily obliged taking it into your mouth and sucking the cream right off, your tongue lapping around it savouring the sugary sweetness.

Joe's eyes lit up at the sight, the huge inhale of oxygen he'd took caught you by surprise as a smirk appeared on his face. "That taste's too good, I could eat the whole bowl." you hummed contently.

"That was hotter than I expected it to be." Joe trapped you in-between the countertop and himself, his hands resting either side of you so you couldn't escape, not that you wanted too. Leaning his head down, he gave you a swift kiss. "Can I see that one more time?"

"You pervert." You both barked laughter at one another.

"Is there something wrong with seeing my girl suck my finger again the way you just did, seductively I might add, that I just want to fuck her here and now?"

"I knew you'd had a lightbulb moment." you sniggered flirtatiously.

"Not like my idea?" Joe tilted his head to one side, taking more frosting out of the bowl onto his finger and nearing it inches away from your soft lips.

"Well, we do have time to kill." Eyeing the ticking timer, you took his finger into your mouth, your eyes back burning into his whilst you sucked it a little harder this time, Joe bit down on his bottom lip, another vast breath being taken in from watching you. "Fuck me, baby."

Joe picked you up in an instant over his shoulder, running to the sofa and throwing you down onto it, taking off his clothes in and instant and eyeing you to do the same. "Jesus Christ." he muttered.

"What?"

"You get hotter every time I see you like this, I think I have an addiction." And it was true, Joe's eyes lit up every time he saw you in all your naked glory, he loved how vulnerable you were willing to be for him, truth be told you wanted him just as much as wanted you.

He crawled over you and crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you so desperately, so needily, wanting to give you everything he felt and more in that one delicate piece of contact. Your tongues battled for dominance, both whining into each other's mouths purely just at the taste of each other, the combination of sugar that still dwindled on your tongues and saliva mixed was both filthy and divine.

You pushed Joe by his chest. "Sit up." you urged. Joe did as you said, watching you roll off the sofa and get onto your knees in-between his legs, eyeing him up the whole time with a cute little grin on your face. A look that drove him insane. Licking your lips as your sight fell down to see his thick cock slapped against his stomach, standing right to attention and twitching at the thought of what you were about to do. He whimpered without you even touching. "You naughty girl."

"What don't you want it?" You moved your head to one side mirroring that of his earlier, speaking in a sharp, low tone.

"Shut up and suck my cock." You picked it up by the base, your gazes still very much intact as you stuck your tongue out and licked right from the bottom and up to the tip, taking it into your mouth at the crease of your lips, one quick suck and you let go. Joe huffed a moan, throwing his head back and quickly returning to watch you continue your work.

You cupped his balls with your other hand, massaging them in the palm of it. That was his favourite out of the lot. Bowing your head straight over the top, you spat down onto the shaft, watching it dribble down the length. You giggled amorously which caught him off guard and you quickly moved to wrap your lips around the tip properly, licking your tongue around its leaking head. "Fuck Y/N, right there." He writhed at the touch of his sensitive spot you hit several times just beneath the tip; you loved to see it. You speedily bobbed your head down, taking all that your gag reflex would allow, that's when you found Joe's hands cup the back of your head, pushing you down further and hitting the back of your throat, causing you to wince out in a chokehold.

"Oh my god, baby. Holy shit your mouth feels too good taking my cock like that." Joe's moans were practically flying out his mouth, giving you every encouragement to bring your mouth back up and deepthroat him once more. "Baby, you need to stop or you're going to end me." You sucked at a rapid pace, bringing your head up and down whilst sliding your tongue along it, jerking the base of his cock with what little you had left to spare.

"Y/N, that wasn't a c-challenge-" You stopped immediately, letting go of everything and dropping his now sodden cock fall back against his stomach, a breathless Joe barely arched up against the sofa, his eyes in a panic as he didn't want to cum as fast as you were making him. You definitely quit at the right time.

"I'm not stopping because I want to, I'm stopping because I believe you wanted your cock in a little tighter space." You stood back up, sitting onto his lap, taking him into another open kiss, fiercer this time as you were returned to the previous position of him on top of you. "I'm about to fuck you as breathless as you've just made me." Joe spat onto his hand, pushing it down between your folds, making you cry out at the friction, your sensitive bud practically twitching beneath his fingers. "That sweet pussy all ready for me to fuck her?" Joe licked his lips, taking his fingers into his mouth and tasting you. "Better than the frosting, god damn it."

You managed a giggle, that was until he spread your legs apart wide and slammed his cock straight inside of you, not giving you any room for adjustment, you'd riled him up completely and he wanted nothing more than to have his way with you after the act you'd just committed.

You moved your legs up to push them onto his shoulders for him to get better access, whilst drilling his erection deep and hard into your wet cunt, he pressed his thumb down onto your clit, rubbing harsh circles onto it making you squeal. "Fuck me, Joe!" You cried out, every cry of pleasure, every whimper from his balls slapping below could be heard through the streets of London if you had possibly tried to squeeze your vocals out any higher.

"Yes, that's it, my girl takes my cock so fucking good, you're my perfect little slut, aren't you?"

You couldn't muster a single word; he bucked his hips into you harder wanting a clear answer from you to which you screamed at the top of your lungs. "Aren't you?" Joe growled.

"I'm your perfect little slut." You managed; Joe chuckled sexily.

"That's what I thought I heard."

He continued his rapid speed, your pussy aching at the relentlessness he was showing in every thrust. Your stomach tightened almost all at once. "Joe I'm going to cum."

"Me too, Jesus-" You both came undone together, your fluids mixing around your walls and saturating the length of his cock. You gripped onto his arms, digging in your fingernails at the immensity of the sensitive climax. You were both sweating from every crevasse, both out of breath fighting for air as Joe collapsed on top of you, giving himself a minute to calm down.

"Every. Fucking. Time. You're the death of me, love." Joe breathed violently into your ear.

"What's that, babe?" you fought just as much to get a word out, almost mishearing what he said, your vision still blurred out.

"You. I've never been so addicted to fucking in my life. You bring a whole new meaning to the word. I told you I'm addicted."

Just as you both had come back down to reality and before you got another chance to speak, Joe's timer on his phone started to go off, your heads both shot to the kitchen, eyeing up the oven, the smell of sex and cake in the air.

"I must say, we have impeccable timing Mr. Quinn."

"Once we're done with this cake, I'm bringing you back for round 2, I'm not done with you yet, baby, the cake is my main course, your wet pussy is my dessert."

[starsscarmyceiling]

Homemade Dynamite, please?

OmGGGgg yay I am glad someone asked about this! Thanks anon! Unfortunately, this one’s been on the back burner for quite a BIT, but I mean @jan-uarys and I spent several hours last night freaking the FUCK out about it and it honestly got me hyped for it all over again!

This fic came about from my first Reylo modern AU, Keep the Blinds Open, wherein Ben moves across the street and Rey has to wipe her drool away and be like OH NO HE'S HOT…and basically, Rey wants to be in denial for so long and they’re both so stubborn that they didn’t even talk to each other or MEET until Ben had been living there for like a whole YEAR haha. Then one day my dyad in the force @saratogagrounder and I were talking about what it would be like if that happened with Merrical…and we were like LOL Merrin would never stand for that…and she ofc encouraged me to write the fic after we giggled about it for quite some time and we all know it takes like absolutely NO effort for me to take on another WIP—💀

But yeah so Merrin moves in across the street, Cal FREAKS out about it obvs, and is like omg how am I even going to live my life now with her being there and being all hot all the time and stuffs FUCK—and she’s been living there for like a couple of months at this point, and then Cal is standing in his kitchen one day contemplating if he should make himself some dino chicken nuggets for dinner and they make eye contact for the first time when she comes home, and he is just like frozen in place like SHIT SHIT SHIT SHITTTT WHAT DO I DO…and WHAT does our boy do?? HEH, he ends up just like awkwardly waving at her ofc. Then she just tilts her head at him, and then promptly leaves her apartment.

“Oh my god,” Cal said out loud, “I fucking—freaked her out so much she immediately had to leave her apartment.”

He let out a severe exhale as he started to pace about his kitchen for several minutes.

“Jesus Christ Beedee, I think we’re gonna have to move now—there’s no way I’m coming back from that—I can never look at her again.”

Cal grunted, bringing his index finger and thumb to his eyes and rubbing at them.

“Why—why are you like this? That was so fucking—”

There was a knock on his door. His head whipped over to it and he thought he might have been hearing things as he just stood there for a moment—or it could have been several before he heard it again as Beedee also barked along with it.

Cal looked at his dog, “Go lay down boy, it’s fine.”

The dog listened and went to his bed, but still whined a little.

“What the…” Cal said to himself as he placed his coffee down on the counter and paced to his door in such baffling steps, “who would—”

Cal unlocked the door, and there on the other side of it, was none other than her—his hot neighbor—right in front of him.

His eyes were probably popping out of his sockets as he said nothing for a sequence of seconds and just gawked at her, almost tempted to ask if she meant to come here.

She did know that—he lived here, right?

“Well,” she stated in a voice with an accent oh god she had an accent, “are you going to invite me inside?”

Cal just blinked a couple of times as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Oh my god say something—

“Uh—yeah, right,” Cal stammered, knowing he was severely red as he cleared his throat and stepped aside, “come on—in.”

She sounded Russian to him. Why was that hot? Jesus Christ she was so much hotter up close—

Strolling past him like she’d been here before, Cal closed the door behind her and he immediately shoved his hands down the pockets of his jeans as she still hadn’t faced him.

“Did you uh—” Cal panicked, so taken aback and so confused, “did you mean to come here?”

Why did he ask that?

She chuckled a little, “No, I meant to go to the Italian restaurant down the street and somehow ended up here.”

Cal snorted, not expecting such a quip from her, but then still felt all his anxiety crushing him as he took an unsteady breath.

“You know, I get that a lot—probably from all the gourmet meals I am always cooking for myself—the secret’s out.”

His heart was racing as she laughed again, and wow her laugh was—beautiful? Was that a weird thing to think?

All he knew is that he was trying not to focus on her, but then all he could focus on was her and no he wasn’t checking out her body or her perfect ass—

“Perhaps you could pitch them your favorite meal of chicken nuggets and whiskey—I am sure they’ll be very interested in hearing the recipe,” she responded, and honestly, he didn’t know why that felt like the wind was being knocked out of him, but there were just too many implications in that sentence that he simply couldn’t brush aside—

Cal needed to breathe; he wasn’t breathing—

“Uh—huh—they’ve been hounding me for years over it,” Cal stated in a voice that really didn’t sound as steady as his last sentence…almost like he had just gone through puberty and he was pretending to sound older than he actually was.

“My my, I am sure,” she stated, and Cal really didn’t know what to say to that.

He couldn’t still quite believe that she was just walking around in his apartment as she placed her purse down on his counter, clearly judging his things as he just stood there openly gaping at her like that was going to make this situation any better.

“You waved at me,” she pointed out.

And see Cal was trying to completely forget about the fact that his innate reaction to actually making eye contact with his new hot neighbor for the first time was to fucking awkwardly wave at her.

“Yeah—I…certainly did that.”

She turned to him finally, her eyes completely scanning over him like she was trying to size him up for something.

“Was that not an invitation to come over?” She asked as casually as if this was for some reason an entirely normal, commonplace really, way to interact with someone. Step one, sure, stare at your hot neighbor like some creeper, and then step two, wave at her like a complete buffoon, which will obviously lead her to showing up at your door unannounced.

What world was he living in right now?

“Oh, uh—” Cal stammered, knowing for damn sure that was not his intention, and if he were less awkward of a person perhaps he could actually be trying to accomplish something with this gorgeous person—even if it were to at the very least be having a successful conversation, “I guess it could have been…because it’s not like I mind you being here or anything—” oh fuck where the fuck was he going with this he needed to change gears now— “do you want some coffee or something?”

Her expression was difficult to read, but it could have possibly been like she was pitying him, “I suppose so…I take mine black.”

Cal lifted both his hands and pointed his index fingers at her, “Great.”

Well that was a weird thing to do. Then again, so was everything he did.

He thought being able to concentrate on doing something would help his anxiety as he noted Beedee had approached her and started sniffing at her. She bent down to give him a pet on his head.

“Oh uh—that’s Beedee, don’t worry he’s very friendly,” Cal said as he got a mug from his cupboard. He paced to the coffee machine and grabbed the pot. She seemed to have no response to him, but she was still giving his dog attention, so that was hot—

That was hot? What? Was everything she did hot just because she was so hot?

“And I’m Cal, by the way—Cal Kestis—um—if you wanted to know.”

She looked up at him, and he couldn’t quite tell if there was an upturn to her lip or not, but she definitely had raised her eyebrow at him, “Congratulations Cal Kestis.”

Normal—he felt very normal about her uttering his full name.

“Yeah, I get that a lot too,” Cal said without thought, “short for Calcium.”

For the first time there seemed to be a crack in her mostly stoic countenance as he walked over to her and offered the coffee mug.

“Is it really?”

Cal couldn’t help it, he smirked as she took the mug from his hand, “Of course.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, “Did your parents hate you?”

Parents—what an always excellent topic with him.

“You know—I think they must have.”

Honestly, not such a bad explanation on the fly.

She eyed him, making no attempt to drink her coffee.

“I feel as though you are making another stupid joke—but your tone just seemed more confident this time,” she claimed, and then he smiled again, trying not to focus on how he loved the shade of her brown eyes.

“Yeah, and now I just ran out of material, so it’s all downhill from here I’m afraid,” Cal said back, not even sure where that came from.

“Hm,” she hummed before she now took a sip of her coffee, “what a shame.”

Frankly, he was a little gobsmacked. She was—like very intimidatingly charming? And it just rendered him devoid of any more words or stupid jokes.

Damn, maybe he really was out of material.

As she turned from him again and began to once more circumvent the room.

And he watched her, just not finding it in him to look away again, and he just—he really wanted to ask her if she really came over here because he just fucking awkwardly waved at her.

He opened his mouth, but then she began speaking again.

“You watch me,” she stated in a complete matter of fact manner. Cal was not finding it difficult to decipher that she was just an extremely blunt person.

“Oh, yeah um,” he said, placing his hands on his hips, “you’re kind of…hard to miss.”

He looked up into her eyes and those brown irises were staring into his soul just a few paces away from him now.

Jesus—could he say anything remotely normal?

“I’m sorry,” he stated simply, hoping it would suffice enough for being a total creep, “I didn’t mean it in like—I—I mean I am not trying to be—”

God—he should probably just inform her that yes, he will be prompting moving out as soon as possible.

Because could he even deny his extremely inconvenient but still very real attraction to her?

She kept her stare on him for another few moments before she spoke, “Do not be sorry,” she stated, not turning from him entirely as she walked over to his window, “I watch you too.”

Cal was incidentally and entirely grateful that she could not see him right now because his jaw dropped a bit and his brain definitely forgot how to function for several seconds.

AHHH this is very first drafty EXCUSE

After disssss things get real REAL fun as I am attempting my first NON slow burn ever as they start boning right away, and it becomes and emotional slow burn. Merrin is like oh, feelings? I had those removed several years ago and Cal is like bet.

Cal’s a paramedic, and one day him and Kanan unfortunately lose someone and they have to wheel the body down to the morgue and GuEsS wHo’S tHe NeW MorGuE DoCtoR—😏

OOOOoHHH it gets SO fun from here as they navigate just banging on the reg and Merrin is like LOLZ I don’t do feelings and also being neighbors and seeing each other at work. There’s def a time or two they also bang in a janitor’s closet. Calamity ensues as Cal gets her coffee one morning along with everyone else’s and Merrin’s like you’re not allowed to be nice to me—and Cal’s like HA well too bad because I’m gonna anyway, actually.

Also @starryjediknight, I am DEF putting in some background Sabezra in there with Ezra being a nurse and Sabine being another doctor who lowkey caught Merrin and Cal coming out of the janitor’s closet, and she’s like lol girl you banging that hot ginger mess…and Merrin’s like NOO…well..maybe…YES we’ve banged a ton what do you want from me, and then Sabine is like lol I’m not judging I’m banging that nurse Ezra. I think I should also throw in some Cal and Ezra bonding over having scary hot doctor gfs LOL

Soooo YEAH v excited for this fic. It’s gonna be the best angsty ridiculous smutty Merrical rom com I as per USH from me…so I hope you guys will enjoy just as much too!

[svartalfhild]

Svar Watches BBC Robin Hood for the First Time - Season 3

Some of you may have seen my reactions to Season 1 and Season 2, well, here's the epic conclusion:

Well I can tell you right off the bat that the production, especially the costumes, have gotten a major glow-up, holy shit.

Damn we're starting off in a dark place. I mean, I guess I expected that, but even so.

It's been 5 minutes and I already miss Will and Djaq.

Guy is so unhinged now and it hurts my heart, but it's so interesting to watch. Also, the costuming glow-up and Armitage doing his thing means that Guy is now, in some respects, even hotter than before. For this to really get out of hand for me, though, he has to get a good redemption arc. That would just be top👌tier👌shit👌. I have no goddamn clue how that could happen at this point, though. Won't hold my breath.

So now that Marian is fucking dead and Djaq is off having her happily ever after with Will, I'm guessing Tuck is going to be the new voice of reason.

Ohoho Guy going Fuck Everything Actually But Especially The Sheriff And Also My Life with maximum emo is fucking zesty.

I like Kate. Her being a love interest for Much is a bit out of left field, but I could be into it if the narrative does the work to sell it.

Man, the real villain in this show is toxic masculinity.

I love how every time a recurring female character is grieving, Little John is like "hello, I'm your emotional support giant".

Lara Pulver???? Fuck yeah!

Holy shit she's Guy's sister????? And she's Robin's new love interest???? That's a spicy meatball.

Gotta say, Guy, being shitty to your sister is rapidly losing you attractiveness points.

OH MY GOD GUY ACTUALLY GOT TO STAB THE SHERIFF I AM LIVING YES BITCH KILL YOUR ABUSER!!!!

Aw dunk he's still alive. Boo. Well, either way, Guy has fallen out of the hands of one abuser into another, who has even more power.

Toby Stephens as Prince John is brilliant. He's so flighty and detestable. And pathetic in the way that only rich men are. This is reminding me of the tantrums of the bird app destroyer.

So I see from Isabella's behaviour with Robin that getting overly attached to the first person who's nice to them is a Gisborne family trait. Also going all super backstabby survival mode when they get put in a tight spot.

Meg is fucking great and I am so here for the women-supporting-women of her introduction. I want her to be besties with Isabella, even though Isabella is duplicitous af (albeit kinda understandably so).

So, uh, fuck Thornton. It was bad enough hearing from Isabella that he's awful, but now that we get to see him, I am absolutely revolted.

Oh, oh, I love watching Meg call Guy the fuck out for his, well, everything, and he just has to sit there and take it cause they're in prison. Get his ass, girl.

Wait...oh my god...oh my god IS GUY ACTUALLY GONNA HAVE A REDEMPTION ARC???? YOU'RE KIDDING HOLY SHIT POP ALL THE BOTTLES LADS

Aw...aw, Meg. I'm crying with you, Guy. T_T

The way Isabella started this season with "I'm nothing like my brother; there's nothing about him that I want to be" and then she proceeded to become exactly like her brother.

God, the cinematic parallels between Guy and Isabella are so strong and so tragic. Both abused, both prone to thinking in extremes, both trying so desperately to protect themselves and making all the wrong choices. But it's interesting how Isabella is descending into evil the same way Guy did the moment she's given a crumb of power by an evil man, while Guy is trying to be better after hitting rock bottom and getting told what's what by a mouthy peasant girl.

Kate turning out to actually be Robin's love interest is honestly a bit boring, but predictable, I suppose.

Damn, that Backstory™ episode was wild and soapy as fuck but it sure did some heavy lifting with the plot to get Robin and Guy united at last. A fucking half-brother between them named Archer. Jesus christ.

Guy's father being a leper kinda brings new context to the Sheriff derisively calling Marian a leper all of the time. Must have been a real twist in the gut every time Guy heard it.

Robin and Guy going to rescue Archer is giving Thor and Loki "get help" energy and I love it so much. More of this please.

So I see being a tricky little bastard and a romantic is something Archer shares with his siblings.

Oh my god the symbolism of Guy riding a white horse now.

Aw, Allan. T_T So it's a Boromir end for you, huh.

I'm scared to watch the finale because I just know it's going to hurt my heart somehow. Let Guy stab the Sheriff again, please?

GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYYYYYY *INCOHERENT SCREAMING AND CRYING*

"I lived in shame, but because of you, I die proud and free." I WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN!!!!!!!! T_T

Yes, blow everything the fuck up. Die, assholes.

And there goes Robin too. God, I'll just be sobbing for the next several minutes, thanks.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed my screaming and crying. I hope you went "ohohoho just you wait girl" every time I saw or didn't see a twist coming.

[manicformunson]

just- eddie with a badass, metal reader? and he’s too nervous to talk to her, hes almost intimidated, but then she goes up to him and confronts him abt his stares??? i’m done for.

do you wanna touch me

pairing eddie munson x fem!reader

summary reader is the girl of eddie's dreams and he can't help but stare at her any and every chance he got. he never expected her to call him out in front of his friends

note i am a firm believer in eddie being a total perv lol also abrupt ending sorry i like to tease :p

Eddie was a creep, he knew it. He literally could not help but drool over the girl in his math class, Y/N was like his hottest wet dream. She was always sporting shirts from his favorite bands, her hair always dyed unnatural colors and sometimes if he was lucky she wore a skirt, showing off a huge dnd dragon tattoo on her thigh. When that happened Eddie always had to pick his jaw up off the floor and excuse himself to the bathroom.

Eddie found himself more often than not rubbing one out at the thought of her plush thighs around his neck and his face buried in her pussy, or her tits squished up against his cock with her tonuge gingerly licking the tip -- the latter being his favorite.

One time he had to run to the bathroom to jerk off after math class when she wore one of those devilish skirts and moved her legs, causing Eddie to catch a glimpse of her panties. It was not his proudest moment.

Even Gareth had mentioned that Eddie was obsessed and that if he had the balls he should just go up and talk to her, but as funny as it was to everyone else, Eddie was intimidated. He had never met a girl who liked heavy metal and had tattoos of DND dragons, plus she was drop dead gorgeous.

Thank god for the weekend though. It was the only time he got a break from Y/N and her unknowing curse on him.

He had no intention of swimming, just soaking up the sun with a cigarette and maybe checking out the mom's in bikinis until he saw Y/N across the pool. He felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. "Jesus Christ." He muttered when he was able to breathe again.

Eddie had picked up Gareth, Jeff and Dustin for a day at the pool -- solely Dustin's idea but Eddie would later kiss his feet for it. When they got there they had picked out spots near the gate and Eddie laid out on the chair and pulled out a cigarette, promising to look after they're stuff.

He had thought about asking her to join Hellfire since she'd probably enjoy it but the fear of rejection was too much for him. That and it'd be pretty hard to concentrate on a campaign when Y/N's pretty eyes were on him.

She was wearing a simple black bikini but goddamn, Eddie could see that she had a couple more tattoos -- one on her right breast of a bat with no head, some phrase on her hip bone, and when she turned her back towards him Eddie could see she had little wings right above the waist line of her bottoms.

Jeff and Gareth noticed him drooling over her and decided to follow Dustin to the pool, leaving Eddie a mumbling mess. All he could think about is her tramp stamp and how it contrasted against her wet skin, god Eddie had to fight popping a semi right then and there.

"There a reason your staring at me Munson?" Y/N said through a taunting smile, swaying her hips until she was standing over him. Eddie only held his hands up in defense, "I just, I uh. I mean-" Y/N crossed her arms, making Eddie very aware of how her boobs squished against her arms.

"I just wanted, wanted to-" Eddie couldn't think -- she was so much hotter than Eddie had thought. "Wanted to?" Y/N cocked her eyebrow at him, her fingers tapping against her elbows. "Your tattoos! You got, you got nice tattoos."

She laughed at him and Eddie couldn't help but smile at it, even if she was laughing at him. Y/N decided to sit down in the chair beside him and lean in a little, unknowingly giving him access to see the forbidden valleys of her breasts.

"You're practically drooling, and you're trying to tell me it's because of my tattoos?"

Eddie didn't respond, his brain only focused on the tattoo on her tits which made her grab his chin, forcing him to look at her and continue to mumble out nonsense.

Y/N knew that he had a crush on her, it was a bit pathetic but damn did she think it was cute. She couldn't help but tease.

She leaned closer to him, enough that her perfume clogged his senses, and pressed her lips to his ear, "You know, I got a few more tats underneath my swimsuit if you ever wanna see them."

She licked the shell of his ear causing him to visibly shutter and moan. Eddie grabbed her arm, "I, I got a van." Y/N giggled down at his desperate state. "Hm. I was thinking maybe back at my place later. So I could show you all of my pretty tattoos, and you could take the time to appreciate them."

Her hand was now rubbing up and down his arm giving him goosebumps and his head was so foggy with her presents that Eddie couldn't register what she was insinuating, he just nodded.

When her soft lips pressed against his cheek is when he felt his dick jump at the sudden feeling, "See you then pretty boy." And she was gone, leaving Eddie dazed and with a semi.

Little did he know he wasn't being very secretive about his staring, catching her attention and jumping when she starting storming over to him. Oh shit, he thought before trying to come up with an excuse.

[spikesbimbo]

Ok i know you love sachirou 🥺 but imagine being sandwhiched between both hirugamis 🤤 tall giant men that just tower over you 🤤🤤

summary: your boyfriend lets his little brother fuck you for his birthday

pairing: hirugami brothers x f!reader

cw: threesome, oral sex, peeping/voyeurism, all holes fucked, daddy kink, squirting, anal sex, cum eating, creampie

wc: 2.3k

a/n: Happy birthday to my baby boy!!! < 3

When he spent the night at his brothers, he said it was just because his house was too far away, just wanting to sleep there. But in reality you were to only thing he wanted to see after a long day, hearing your sweet moans crying out daddy while his brother was fucking you affected him way more than it should have, fisting his cock at the thought of you calling him that too.

Even when he was home he couldn't get you out of his mind, porn not working anymore, just the thought of you bouncing on his cock was enough to make him cum.

And in the morning when you walked downstairs making breakfast, greeting him in little clothing, just his brother's jersey. The  “2”  being bold as ever, a somewhat claim on you, seeing you just in your panties as far as he could tell.  And you didn't mind, stating that you were family now after all, right?

But what he didn't know was his brother noticed how he acted around you, when you gave him a good morning hug or a goodbye one, he noticed how stiff he got, a light  blush rushing to his face. Furoko noticed the way his brother would stare at you, eyeing up your pretty body, but he surprisingly didn't mind. Getting a kick out of the fact that you had him swooning just from being in your presence.

He loved showing his pretty girl off, loving the way men would stare at you while you clung onto his arm, you short little skirt blowing in the wind, giving them a sneak peak of what was his. He also caught his little brother gripping his cock to you, knowing that you were the cause after you shoved him into your arms, thinking that he was fukuro, your chest being shoved in his face while squeezing him tightly.

You just laughed when you realized that it wasn't him, giggling out “You two look so much alike... but daddys bigger, and I couldn't feel his scruff.” Slowly letting go as you skipped into your boyfriend's arms with a fat innocent smile. Did he just hear you right, daddy? Was that a slip up or did you not care, he looked up at his brother also not reacting to it other than giving you a kiss. 

You left him there going to ‘take a shower’ as you said, not knowing what you did to him, or did you?

----------------------------------------------

His birthday dinner was going great until his parents brought up the fact that you and fukuro were so good together, jealousy festering inside of him but pushing it to the back of his head. Knowing he was acting immature.

But he couldn't help but  hink how you always get left home alone, waiting for him to come back from his job, thinking that he wouldn't treat you like that. Knowing that he’d give you all the attention you needed, fucking you when and wherever you wanted. Not realizing your boyfriend did the same, coming home in the middle of the night after practice then fucking you back to sleep.

Again he crashes at your place, going to his room adjacent to yours after you gave him another goodnight hug. Just in your tank top and little shorts, hugging you back and he felt your soft tits squeeze up against him. 

Fuck.

He can't sleep, not with your angelic moans distracting him as his brother plows into you, not even trying to hide it, The bed creaking loud as ever, while your voice gets higher and higher. He gets up eventually, going to the kitchen to get some water, but stops walking once he sees the door left slightly open, your bare pussy on display for him.

He leans against the wall, watching as you get your body felt up, tits being squeezed perfectly in his big hands. And he can't help but lean his back against the wall and stroke himself through the fabric of his briefs, the need to please himself greater than the need to sleep, doing anything to see your body again.

He finds himself watching the stroke of his hands on you as you whimper for him to fuck you already, his grip stiff as he pulls his briefs down, freeing his cock as he starts getting off to the thought of you and your pretty body. He’s so caught up in his own world that he doesn’t notice until your moans have stopped and fukuro had joined his hiding, until he jumps hearing his brother speak behind him.

“I could say this wasn't expected.” fukuro grinned, a hint of possessiveness in his voice as he locked eyes with him, resting his arm on his shoulder. “But i'd be lying.”

“She sounded so nice, didn't she?” kuro muttered, his tongue licking his lips as he looked back at you, hiro following his gaze. Their eyes grazing you with your ass spread in the air, clinging on the pillow with fat tears dried on your cheeks, not being able to control movements as you back up, arching more.

Hiro turns his head back and stares at his brother, disbelief coloring his features because is fukuro expecting them to have a conversation about how hot you sound while he was getting off to the thought of you, while his hand was still holding his hard cock.

He drags hiro into the room before he can say anything, almost throwing him onto you. His face landing next to your tits, nipples hard and wet, so inviting as he freezes pulling himself up closer to you. Fukuro sets himself behind you as he slips a hand into his own pants while grabbing your cunt with his whole hand, slick slipping between his fingers.

 He has no shame, if any less than hiro, he’s just being a good older brother is his mind and just kisses your forehead when you give him those eyes.“You two though...,” you feel your cheeks grow hotter as you get even more wetter under the pressure of their stares.“ I don’t mind sharing if it gets you like this baby” 

Hiro’s movement stutters as your hand reaches out to grab his neck, fingernails dragged across his collarbone. “Don't tell me you're a virgin” Fukuro said, as your eyes grew needier with every second, not wanting his baby to feel teased anymore tonight.

 “What! No, it's just that...” He couldn't express how he never thought this day would come, his puppy crush on you turning into reality for one night as your bare body laid underneath him, needy little hole begging to be fucked.

He looks at you, his cock growing harder as he leans up into your ear, wrapping his arm around you resting his hand on your tummy. “You okay with this baby? I don't wanna do anything you wouldn't like even if it is hot, not gonna lie, but...” He waits for you to respond, inviting you to get fucked by both of them and you eventually respond by grinding on hiro’s cock, moaning like you were in heat.

Mumbling out your consent while Hiro’s still in awe, just nodding as you continue you wrap your pussy against his length. “yeah” you whimpered out, faintly smiling as your hazy eyes grew darker while you opened your legs further. “I can give the birthday boy what he wants.”

“Fuck you're so wet” kuro said reaching around spreading your folds open, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. “You like being shared, huh?” he teased, gazing at the sight below him, moving his thumb down to rub your throbbing clit, so swollen and needy.

“You gonna let him fuck that sloppy little cunt baby, hmm?” You quickly nodded, trying to fuck yourself on him, getting impatient as kuro laughed at you for being such and needy baby.

Your breath is held as he lines himself up with you, catching on his name while his eyes meet your, staring almost into you. Still looking dumbfounded as he rocks his hips up into you, your wetness sucking him in while your croaky voices whines out.

“Fuck y/n. Jesus christ, you gotta loosen up, okay?” he groaned out, his cock never feeling so suffocated in his life while kuro was wondering why he did a 180. The way you cant even respond, being limp in their arms is proof enough that he’s doing a good job. Never caring about anyone before, just using them to get off if anything.

He bottoms out, resting for a minute before deciding that he had to get you comfortable manually. His hand wandering up from your thighs to your pretty tits that he's been wanting to hold for so long, so soft, so jealous that his brother gets to sleep on them every night as he flicks your nipples making you squeal.

He still holds that one, never wanting to let go while he lets spit fall onto your tiny little hole swallowing him up, acting as lube as his other hand moves up to your clit, gently rubbing it in circles with his thumb. Loving the way you were falling apart on him right now as he could finally start thrusting into you, not being able to take his time after easing into you.

 “Can I u fuck your ass baby” kuro said into your ear, his finger replacing hiro’s as you were quickly getting rocked back and forth.

 “Y-yeah, please daddy, hurry up, ple-” You mumbled out, words getting choked out as his thrust knocked the air out of you. Kuro kissed the top of your head before grabbing the lube on the dresser, putting an obscene amount, that was needed, onto his fingers. Stretching you out before sliding his cock into, mouth left open at the movement, always feeling like a virgin with him.

 “Shh…. we got you baby, don’t we?” he said looking up at his younger brother who was again in his own world. Pinching your nipple as he was watching you cream all over his cock, swearing that he's never seen something so entrancing in his life. Fucking into you harder and harder, trying to make you see stars as your cried out his name over and over again, just how he dreamed of.

 “Daddy!” you cried digging your nails into hiro’s chest, his cock almost stretching you out as much as your boyfriends, ramming into your cervix with each thrust like he was trying to prove a point.

 “I feel betrayed baby, he fuckin you that good? Kuro chuckled out, holding back a groan as your tight little ass clenched around him. He looked down at your tongue lolling out, eyes rolled back. Never feeling this full in your life, both your greedy holes being fucked at the same time, only one being left as he read your mind, shoving his fingers down your throat, making you gag, so pretty.

“m-m’gonna make a mess.” You cried, his dripping wet fingers leaving your lips as your mouth stayed open, drool escaping down your lips onto your chest, running down your nipples. Looking like a blessing before his eyes.

“You are? Show him what you can do baby.” he said bringing his fingers back up to your clit rubbing harsher, wanting to show you off.

“Lemme cum- please-”

His mind racing with what his brothers done to you to have you begging like this, asking permission to cum. He responds quickly, it being the only thing on his mind since he’s first saw you. “Yeah love, cum just like this,” He grunted out, sweat falling onto you as you gripped onto his arms. “Cum round my cock baby c’mon.”

Your back arches in a quiet, mouth opening scream as your orgasm hits, vision going white while hiro speeds up, getting rougher as he seeks his own release. Your cum getting everywhere, making his abdomen and kuro thighs a soaking mess. He lets out a “fuck” as he brings it up to his mouth with his free hand, sucking on his digits, tasting heavenly.

“You gonna take his cum like a good girl? Kuro’s warm breath mouthed out in your ear as you clung onto him now, back still arched, spread so pretty for him. His thrusts making you jiggle in this position now, the sight of your thighs and tits bouncing sending him into overdrive.

“Yeah” you shook your head nodding into his shoulder, wanting to be even more stuffed full. “That’s my girl”

You shake as he continues to abuse your aching cunt. Kuro gripping your hips, curses leaving his lips along with him warning his brother. “don’t knock her up hiro, that’s my job.” Your tears crying out so weakly until his hips stutter and stop thrusting completely, shallow pushing himself deeper into you as you milk his orgasm for all it’s worth finally letting you go limp.

You collapse in their arms after he pulled out, hiro resting his weight on your chest, you already half in your dream world, dozing off. His eyes about to close too until kuro pushed him off, complaining that he was too heavy and that his baby needed beauty rest.

“Go shower and sleep” he uttered out.

He took one last look at your fucked out body laying in him, before walking out of the room. The thoughts of you still plaguing his mind, knowing that nothing would ever top this, this was his best birthday yet.

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Four of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: THANK YOU FOR WAITING!!! I reaaallly hope you enjoy this chapter ;) This one is a little longer, to make up for the shortness of the last chapter. Let me know what you think!!!

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It’s late, your phone tells you that much.

Blinking quickly awake, you catch your breath and reach immediately for the device, checking the time with a deep frown. You feel as though you’d only just managed to fall asleep, which makes the loud knocking on your door even more annoying.

For several seconds you just sit on your bed and listen. Perhaps it was one of your neighbours, coming home drunk and not realising this wasn’t their place, but then the sound comes again and you have to cross that option off.

The banging was too precise, too sharp to be someone inebriated.

You’re pulling a thick sweater over your head as you make your way through your living room, cautiously. The knocking hadn’t come again, and you wonder if your visitor had left.

You pull open the door quickly, frowning deeper still at why on earth Bucky was on your doorstep at three in the morning. You don’t even manage to take him in properly before he’s stepping forward, his wide, wild eyes sweeping over you, searching.

“I came as soon as we landed, what happened?!” He asks, deep worry filling his voice, his features pinched in panic. You blink in confusion, taking a slight step away from him, but only so that you can properly take in his completely overwhelming appearance.

You’d seen him return from missions with minor scrapes and bruises before, but nothing about his current look was ‘minor’.

A large cut on his forehead that reaches up into his hairline is caked with both drying and still wet blood, the rest of his face filthy with the clear remnants of a brutal fight. You can’t tell if the blood on his lips was from his nose, or if he’d cut there too. Even his uniform is all but ruined, ripped and torn in various places, blood splattered all over his jacket, and even worse, a large gash along his thigh, deep and still weeping.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky!” You exclaim, unable to stop yourself. Bucky’s brows only knit further together and he steps closer.

“Are you alright? I couldn’t call, my phone got– it doesn’t matter, are you okay?” He looks you over again, as if you were the one currently bleeding, but you realise rather suddenly why he had come and why he was so worried.

Your face heats up approximately a million times hotter than the sun.

“I’m– I’m fine, I… That wasn’t– I didn’t mean for you to–!” Your voice cuts out as mortification fills you and you drop your face into your hands. Bucky’s face floods with relief, and then a small amount of displeasure as he seems to fully relax, shoulders sagging a bit under what you can only assume is a very sore body.

“You said to call you ASAP.” He mutters, and you wince.

“I know, I know… But I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I’m such an idiot, I didn’t even think about how it might sound…” You scold yourself, finally lifting your head from your hands to look at him apologetically. Bucky sighs, and you can see him forcefully reigning back his ire.

“As long as you're okay…” He sighs again. You want to apologise again, but a drop of blood seeps out from his hairline and you straighten.

“What the hell happened to you!?” You ask, stepping aside and allowing him to amble into your home.

“Got blown up.” He states shortly. He doesn’t make to elaborate, but you don’t think you need him to.

“It’ll mostly be healed by morning.” He informs you, turning his head to look back at you as he peels off his blue leather jacket. With his back to you now, you can see even more large gashes in his back, having torn right through his clothes and left his back looking as though he’d been lashed.

You can remember the Winter Soldier returning from missions looking just as terrible, the gore was sometimes too much for you to handle.

As if realising for the first time that he’d entered your home, Bucky looks around with a frown and then quickly grabs his ruined jacket back from the countertop he’d just placed it on.

“I should go. Let you get back to sleep.” He tells you, already moving for your door again. You don’t exactly know why, but panic lances through you, making you hurriedly step in his path, blocking him off.

“What? No, no, no, you need to clean up!” You blurt, swallowing thickly when his expression shifts slightly, into something unreadable.

“It’s late… and I’ll be fine.” It sounds less like he’s making his excuse to leave and more like he’s trying to reassure you, his voice softer and more soothing than you’d expected.

You blink at him, and try to figure out why exactly you didn’t want him to go.

Granted in the past few weeks you’d become increasingly close, it was actually something you’d started worrying about. It was as if time ceased to exist when he wasn’t around, only starting up again when you saw each other. More and more you’d started to feel lonely, had started to look at the little scar on the back of your hand and yearn.

And that was scary.

Scarier was the way that any and all reservations you’d had about Bucky had completely dissolved, replaced instead by a sense of warmth, and comfort and safety.

You swallow again, and shake your head.

“I’m not letting you go home like this.” You tell him.

“Seriously, you need to sit down and clean up as soon as possible. You look bad.” You gesture at his head and thigh.

“I’m fine, really–” Bucky begins, but his voice hitches when his knee seems to momentarily give. He catches himself quickly, one hand steadying himself on the wall, and you know he’s lying to you through his teeth because he doesn’t even try biting back the curse he lets out.

“Bucky…” You scold warningly, crossing your arms over your chest, even as he relents. You don’t think about the fact that he’d barely put up a fight, or that when he carefully begins moving again, that he knows his way through your home, even in the dim light.

He groans as he sits down on the toilet seat, looking even worse under the harsh lights of your bathroom.

“Dislocated my knee.” He grunts, eyes keenly trained on you as you move around him, procuring a clean towel and a couple of washcloths from the cupboard, and getting the water in the shower running for him.

“Do you… are you okay to get in yourself, or…?”A sudden sheepishness fills you, having not considered the realities of making him stay, but he shakes his head, and reaches to pull his black shirt off.

Dumbly, you stare for several seconds too long as the fabric is peeled from his body and tossed into your tiny bin, your eyes glued to the broad expanse of his chest and abs, a body you’d seen a hundred times before, but somehow, feels brand new now. Bucky notices, of course he does, but thankfully doesn’t say anything as you hurry to avert your gaze, jumping around to face the mirror, which doesn’t really help.

“I– I have some mens clothing. Some sweatpants and a jumper. I bought them for me, but they’re big enough… they should fit you okay…” You ramble, pretending to tidy up the multitude of things you have on and around your sink.

“Thanks.” He says quietly, grunting softly as he works on his boots.

You pause again, stuck staring, as for the first time since you’d met him two months ago, you were able to see his metal arm completely uncovered.

You’d picked up that it was new, the black and gold colouring of his hand a give away, but he hadn’t said much on the subject. You knew it was a gift from Wakanda, and had theorised from that information that it was made of vibranium.

Your eyes travel over the sleek, geometrically interlocking panels, of how it moved and folded almost organically. You turn back to face him to get a better look, your curiosity too much as you take it in. The fingers were deft and far more slender than the arm you’d worked on, much more like his flesh hand. The joints and knuckles were traced in gold and you realise that the black vibranium (?) was actually encasing a layer of more delicate golden panelling underneath, allowing for both acute fine-motor skill and reinforcement to lend added strength–

You’re shocked from your thoughts when you realise Bucky stares right at you, his movements frozen in place. When you further realise that you’ve moved away from the sink and now hold his forearm in both your hands, you let out a startled gasp, and jump back, releasing him.

You can’t even think of what to begin saying to him, and for several moments you both just stare at one another.

“I– I, um…” You stutter, face growing warm. Bucky slowly tears his eyes from you to look at his arm, but his gaze quickly returns.

“You can… You can have a look, if you want…” He offers, voice even and unreadable. You blink.

“I know you were working on this kind of stuff before… prosthetic limb enhancem–” He continues, but you’re snapped out of your daze, cutting him off quickly.

“No. No thank you.” You say, a little more harshly than you intend, but a cold prickle has begun creeping it’s way up your spine. Bucky closes his mouth and just watches you. You step even further away from him and shake your head.

“I don’t– I don’t ever want to think about any of that again.” Your voice feels stiff, and both embarrassment and discomfort force your decision to exit out of the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

You feel bad about your behaviour, and as you lay in bed and replay the events again and again, it almost makes you want to step out of your bedroom and apologise. It wasn’t as if you’d have to go anywhere. After he’d finished cleaning up, looking a hell of a lot better already but still walking stiffly due to his knee, you’d quietly insisted he at least stay until his leg healed.

Bucky hadn’t argued, and you try not to linger on his seeming willingness to stay. It makes your blood pump a little faster, and your mouth feel both dried and over-salivating at the same time. You think again about your strange relationship, how things were evolving, and about how you could almost trick yourself into thinking you felt tingling on the back of your hand sometimes.

You’d been trying to ignore the feeling, not only because it was insane for you to feel as such about him of all people, but mostly because Bucky’s soulmark was black. Black, meaning he already had a soulmate.

Somewhere out there, Bucky Barnes’ perfect half was waiting for him to find them. Maybe they were even looking for him. The thought feels like a punch in the gut, but it wasn’t the first time recently that you’d had to remind yourself of the fact.

Whatever weird, strange feelings you’d developed, it was all pointless.

You roll over and brush the thoughts from your mind. You’d never fall asleep that way. Sleep didn’t always come so easy to you, and it had already been late when Bucky had arrived, and so you let the warmth of your blankets and the knowledge that your home was a hundred times safer with him inside it lull you into unconsciousness.

---

The Winter Soldier sits bloodied and battered in the chair before you, his chin turned down toward his chest, but his eyes flickering around the room, looking as dark and as menacing as always. His gaze lands on you for mere moments before it’s moving on, clearly not deeming you as a threat.

Around you, the room bustles with an unusual amount of people, talking rapidly and low in Russian. Your shoulder is jabbed harshly and you quickly continue to move forward, gingerly pulling up a nearby stool and moving to place your small bag of tools on the trolley provided.

A doctor of some kind stands on the Soldier’s other side, his gloved hands covered in bright crimson as he attends to a wound you refuse to look at. He seems distracted however, looking back and over his shoulder at another man every so often, gesturing and pointing at his patient’s body.

Perhaps the fact that the Soldier had been watching the room when you entered should have given it away, should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but you were so often surrounded by danger these days that the change in demeanour hadn’t made a mark.

You move to take your seat, just as the doctor leans back in and that's when the Soldier snaps.

His broken body lunges to his feet, moving faster than you have time to register, and you don’t even get to see what he does next. The air is knocked out of you, a pain pulsing in your abdomen and chest, and then your back as you suddenly hit the bare concrete wall, crumpling like fabric to the floor.

You’re aware the room has erupted into chaos, of shouting and the clicking off of safeties on guns, but for several minutes you’re only able to clutch at your stomach, gasping for breath. You aren’t hurt, not fatally anyway, there had been no knife in the fist that had swung out and batted you away like a ping pong ball, but the force would surely leave bruising.

You catch a brief glance of the Soldier with his hand around the doctor’s throat, until you realise that his hand is in fact around a scalpel that is lodged inside the doctor’s throat, and you look away again.

The guards and his handler all hurry to diffuse the situation, garbled shouts and threats in a language you don’t understand, as tears begin to prickle your eyes. You were lucky to be alive, all things considered, just unlucky enough to be standing so close when he’d snapped. But although you weren’t dead, or dying, the blow had hurt.

Too soon for your liking a hand is harshly grabbing your bicep and yanking you to your feet.

The room seemed to have returned to how it had been before, the only signs of change being the dead body lying on the ground beside the Soldier, and the cuffs that were strapped around his wrists, holding him to the chair.

The hand holding you pushes you to walk forward, and you dig your heels in.

“No, please, I don’t–” You start, feeling your whole body begin to shake in panic. You’re cut off by another man, Karpov, who steps into your line of sight with a curled lip.

“Fix it.” He demands, accent heavy around his words. Your fear of the man behind him outweighs your fear of him, and you find yourself shaking your head, struggling to try and break free of the tight hold on you.

“No, I can’t, I can’t! Please–” This time you’re cut off by a sharp slap that sends your head flying to the side, the sound ringing in your ears and seemingly bouncing off the walls. Your chin is grabbed roughly and yanked to attention.

“You will fix him. Now.” Karpov spits, releasing you just as the guard holding you jerks you forward once more.

You’re pushed down onto your seat, your trolley of tools shoved beside you, the noise making you jump. For several seconds you can only sob, your whole body shaking violently as you try not to cringe away from the Soldier, who sits impassive now, his eyes turned down, his body slumped.

A harsh prod to your shoulder makes you move, and slowly you begin the process of opening up the metal arm, diagnosing the problems, and fixing them.

Your hands tremble the whole time, and your crying gets softer, but doesn’t stop, the pain in your abdomen pulsing and aching.

You wake with a sharp inhale, but as the dream fades and the morning sets in, you release it with sigh.

The dreams hadn’t become less frequent since Bucky had come into your life, but the power they once held over you, the ability to put you on edge and send your anxiety spiralling for the next few days had all but disappeared.

It was as though the fear of him specifically had become detached from your memories, and regardless of your friendship, you were grateful to leave it behind.

The events of last night begin to trickle back to you as you stretch and groan, waking up properly and considering all that had happened. You don’t know if Bucky had stuck around through the night, or had taken off in the early hours, but you know you still needed to apologise for your reaction in the bathroom, so forcing yourself out from your sheets, you pull on a thick sweater and stuff your feet in your slippers before making your way out of your bedroom.

It was still early in the morning, the sun only just beginning to rise, and you find yourself pausing in your doorway, eyes transfixed on the sight that was Bucky Barnes lit up in the morning light.

He wasn’t asleep, nor did you expect him to be if he had stuck around, but the view is no less breathtaking, the sun illuminating his side profile as if to tease you, to put on full display what you knew you could never have.

Bucky looks up from his phone after a moment, spurring you to move again, absently making for your kitchen.

“Morning.” You greet, mouth dry still.

“Morning. I already got coffee.” Bucky’s words make you pause again, and you blink at the sight you’d obviously missed with ogling him; two large takeaway cups, still in the little cardboard holder.

The cups are marked with the labelling from the cafe you’d often meet at, the one Bucky had revealed was his favorite only after you’d gushed about how good their coffee was.

“Oh,” Is all you’re able to say for a moment, changing paths to move slowly, almost gingerly toward him and the cup and now holds out for you.

“Thanks…” You continue when you’ve carefully plucked the drink from his fingers, and made the decision to take the seat beside him on the sofa.

Bucky takes his own coffee then, and you realise he’d been waiting for you to wake up before he’d started on his own. The thought makes your tummy flutter, but you tell yourself it’s only the memory of your dreams.

“Thanks for letting me stay… I probably shouldn’t have been getting around on my knee as much as I was.” Bucky says after he’s taken a sip from his cup. You watch him scrunch up his nose and fiddle with the lid, pulling it off and placing it aside. He always hated how small the drinking holes were.

“Of course. You looked awful, but I would have felt worse sending you off… especially since you’d come all this way to check on me.” You shrug, shooting him a smile.

Bucky grimaces momentarily.

“Yeah… You had me worried.” He tells you, and your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“You were?”

Bucky frowns dramatically and nods his head.

“Sam almost insisted on coming, just in case.” He informs you, and you have to tsk at yourself.

“Sorry…”

You both sit in amiable silence for a while and you try to hold together your mess of a mind, a scrambled concoction of thoughts and feelings.

“I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories last night… about…” Bucky speaks first, breaking the quiet and you blink at him for several seconds as his meaning sets in. You duck your head and try to keep from sighing.

“No, I shouldn’t have reacted so sourly.” You shake your head, and begin to fiddle with your coffee cup, tracing the printed sides.

“All I ever wanted to do was help people, I’d studied for almost ten years, and I was going to accept my dream job at Stark Industries… and then HYDRA happened…” You don’t look at him, you can’t. You’d never spoken about this before, not with anyone, even during your ‘trial’ after you’d gotten free.

“I could have fixed my window,” You say, gaining the courage briefly to lift your head and make eye contact. Bucky’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t speak.

“I could fix my shitty shower head, and noise my garbage disposal makes,” You gesture wildly to your kitchen and shake your head.

“But I can’t even pick up a screwdriver without my hands starting to shake.” You sigh, feeling almost lighter for confessing, despite the distress in your words.

Bucky drops his head, looking to his lap as he swallows, before he lifts his eyes again. You suddenly regret bringing it up. You know he felt guilty, you know divulging your reasoning would only make it worse. He opens his mouth, but you speak before him.

“It’s not your fault. Please don’t…” Your words catch in your throat at the way he stares at you, and you have to break away for a second, take a sip of your rink before you can continue.

“Please don’t apologise.”

He doesn’t apologise, but he doesn’t speak either, sitting back further, slumping over slightly. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for it. For anything. He’d done so much for you, had helped you more than he’d ever hurt you, but you aren’t sure how to tell him that.

“I had a dream last night,” You blurt suddenly, catching his attention again. You can see that the hand he doesn’t hold his coffee in is balled up, his whole body rigid and stiff.

“It was… I don’t know if you remember, but you’d come back from some mission, and you looked like shit,” You half chortle at the way he lifts his brow tightly.

“You were on edge, I guess, something not quite right… You attacked a doctor…”

“I remember.” Bucky nods, brow furrowing again, likely at the memory of what he’d done to the man. But then he looks sideways at you, his frown turning curious more than anything else.

“I don’t remember you being there…” He murmurs. You swallow and force a tight smile.

“That’s because you batted me away when you stood up.” You joke, and he makes a face as he ‘ahs’.

You watch him stare at the coffee in his hands for several seconds, sorting through his thoughts and emotions silently.

“I’d stopped having those kinds of dreams so much before you came around, and then they started up again.”

He looks at you then, expression sad but unreadable, his eyes flickering across your features as he tries to figure out your tone.

“That first day, when you came and apologised, I couldn’t help but be terrified. I knew what had happened to you, what they’d done, and that you’d been getting better, but I couldn’t help it.” You almost regret telling him that, watching as his eyes turn even sadder, but you needed to, to make sure the next part made sense.

“I wasn’t able to sleep for days… I kept thinking it was all some trick and… and you were going to come back and take me away again.”

You purse your lips and turn your cup around in your hands, your pulse speeding up with nerves and anxiety.

“... And I think that’s so funny now,” You can’t help but laugh around your words, shaking your head as Bucky looks up at you sharply, confusion clearer on his features now.

“Funny?” He asks, voice flat, as if he suspected you might be making fun of him. You nod.

“It’s funny because these days I feel safest when you are around.” You confess, feeling very raw and open, feeling like perhaps he would see right through you.

Bucky just watches you for a while, his face returning to that unreadable expression he often wore, the confusion now gone. You start to wonder if he’d understood you properly.

“It feels like even if somebody did try to take me, you might not let them…”

“I would never let them.” Bucky says quickly, hurriedly, as if snapping out of a trance. You blink at him, a little surprised by the intensity behind his words, but he just shakes his head, frowning as he leans forward to put aside his coffee cup, and turns to face you on the couch.

“Listen to me; I will never let that happen again.” Bucky reiterates, firmer this time, making you jump slightly when his hand curls around yours. You inhale sharply, suddenly thrown off kilter and off course. You’d only wanted to make him see how much he’d done for you, but now you have no idea what was happening.

You look down at his hand in yours, and then back to his face with bewilderment, startled again when he squeezes your fingers in prompt.

“I… I believe you. I know.” You stutter and stumble over the words, feeling suddenly like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Bucky nods, and swallows, and then he’s kissing you.

You can’t help but gasp against his lips, and you’re almost certain that this whole morning has been a fake out, and you hadn’t really woken up yet. His hand not held in your own comes to gently hold your face, and even though you felt like you were drowning, responding feels bizarrely natural.

His kisses you sweet, contrary to the suddenness of it all, lips dancing slow and smooth across your own, tentative and hesitant behind the bold move. Your mind spins, elation and happy disbelief shooting through you, that you weren’t alone in having developed strange feelings. Your hand is released for a moment, only for your coffee to be tugged lightly from your other, and you don’t know where it goes, don’t really care, because now you were free to return his hold.

It feels a little awkward at first, it wasn’t as though you’d done anything like this in more than a decade, but you eventually let your arm wrap around his shoulder, slipping your hand a little shyly up to the hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky hums against your mouth in what you think is approval, and you scratch the spot a little more confidently.

And then, as if a brick had been tossed through your window, you’re shocked back to your senses.

You pull away from him quickly, jumping back and tearing yourself apart. Bucky looks surprised, and you can only stare back at him with wide eyes, breathing harder than you’d like to admit.

“What are you doing?” You manage to get out, your voice far too breathy and affected. Bucky’s brow furrows.

“You– You have a soulmate!” You tell him, trying not to sound like you were scolding him, gesturing to the hand that had previously been holding your face, the little black mark on his wrist clearly visible.

You wait for him to reply, and his expression seems to go through a journey before he focuses back on you.

“You said to me once that soulmate or not, there was still choice involved,” He speaks carefully, looking as anxious as you felt. He sucks in a breath, and looks at his wrist, before pulling his sleeve over it, and slowly holding his hand out toward you.

“I don’t– I don’t know who this is. But I know you.”

The words may as well sucker punch you in the gut, and you feel just as winded as you had in your dream. You can only stare at him, and his hand, in mild disbelief, but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t take it back.

“… Really…?” Your voice is meek, small, and belongs to the tiny part of you that didn’t feel damaged, or broken, the part of you that had still held out hope. Bucky’s lips quirk in the corners, and understanding that you won’t be able to reach for him yourself, he moves closer again, both hands cupping your face now, but instead of kissing you properly, he leans up to press a kiss to your forehead. Somehow it feels even more intimate, confirms the truth in his words even more than his lips on yours would have.

“Really.” He promises you.

If you like or enjoy, a comment or reblog is always highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!!!

[untaemedqueen]

When It Rains, It Pours (M)

Roommate!Namjoon x Reader

WordCount: 4.6k

Genre: PWP, Smut, Fluff, Roommates to Lovers!

Warnings: Soft Dom!Namjoon, Dirty Talk, Begging, Praise, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Joon Tiddie Worship (You Just Gotta), Huge Cock!Namjoon, Face Fucking, Spanking, Cum Swallowing, Unprotected Sex, Choking, Possessive!Namjoon, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

A/N: A really big thanks to my women @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​ for hyping me up as per usual and reading through it! The loves of my life! I hope you guys enjoy it! 

Summer showers are usually delightful. There's something incredible about sitting on your balcony with your roommate as you both sip wine and listen to the rain patter against the streets and your apartment building. You love the smell of the rain, the dark overcast that seems to highlight your roommates handsome features. And, above all you love the coziness that sets deep into your bones. 

You should have been home two hours ago, listening to the rain with your braniac of a roommate and yet, you had gotten stuck at work for what felt like the fortieth time just this month. 

You didn’t bring an umbrella to work, expecting to have been home before the rain began to barrage the Earth. 

You didn’t bring a jacket because it was hotter than Hades outside and the humidity was eating you alive. 

So here you are, drenched and disappointed that you missed out on a beautiful evening on the balcony.

Thunder crashes loudly, lightning highlighting the apartment door as it gets kicked open. Namjoon jumps loudly at the noise as the door knob slams into the wall. 

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck!?” he yells, putting his hand over his heart. 

You glower at him as you enter the apartment, hair in tendrils as small droplets of water plop onto the white ground beneath you.

Closing his book, his eyes go wide. You can only grimace grimace, picking up your hair and slinging it over your shoulder unceremoniously. The slap as your hair hits your back is loud and you purse your lips, shaking your soaked bare arms. 

“Oh my God!” Joon mumbles, jumping up and rushing into the hallway to the linen closet. 

You groan gently, throwing your bag onto the floor. The puddle that seems to seep from the sodden fabric makes you give an unamused scoff as Namjoon reappears with towels. 

“You should have called me, idiot! I would have picked you up!” he chides you, putting a towel around your shoulders. 

You hum to him, looking out the window as lighting ricochets through the sky. He bends down to your level, throwing a towel over your head and patting your face dry. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” you mutter, rolling your eyes when he clicks his teeth. 

His eyes look over your face before looking at your clothes. 

“You’re going to get sick. You have to take these clothes off.” he whispers and you raise an eyebrow at him as he runs the towel down your soaked arms. 

“Are you trying to get me naked?” you quip. 

He chuckles, flicking your forehead. 

“If I wanted to have you naked. I would have already done so years ago.” he retorts as you rub your forehead with a pout. 

With an unattractive snort, you take the towel off of yourself. 

“Lift your arms.” he instructs, grabbing at the soaked hem of your shirt. 

You do as told whining at the cold fabric before meeting eyes with him as he hauls the soaked fabric over your head. He keeps his eyes on you, the soaked tank top slapping to the floor from the heaviness of the rain. He trails his eyes slowly down your face, your breath hitching as you tilt your head.

The lightning highlights his handsome features once more. And the way his tongue swipes over his lips makes you go rigid.

 Fuck, what is wrong with you? 

You’ve lived together for years now. The man before you is your best friend. You've had ideas of such things before but you've worked so hard to keep them at bay. How could you be reacting to him in such a way? 

He unbuttons your jeans, tugging at the waistband, the fabric is so soaked it clings to the globes of your ass. You hiss as he pulls down harshly, your legs coated in a sheen layer of wetness as he bends down. 

“Put your hand on my shoulder and step out.” he orders. 

You shiver, feeling the cool air drift over your body in the dimly lit room.

Stepping out of your pants, Namjoon catches sight of how wet your panties have even gotten, the light grey cotton fabric dark and soaked by the rain. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose, looking at you as he stands tall. 

“If you get sick I’m not staying by your side waiting on you hand and foot like the last time you had the flu.” he says sternly.

You give a lopsided grin to him. He grabs the towel, swiping it over your legs. He can feel your muscles tense and grow terse when he rubs away the rain. 

Your skin is so soft. He's noticed this over the years, but he had never paid too much mind to it (he tried anyway) until now. 

His eyes flit to your panties again, watching your thighs press together out of embarrassment of him being so close. 

"Dry your hair." he tells you, drifting his hands along your calves. 

Gripping the other towel, you squeeze your soaked hair into it. Your gaze averts to the window as you watch the rain patter along the sides of the balcony. 

"I wanted to come home and listen to the rain with you. I didn't know I was going to get stuck at work." you whine quietly, making him chuckle. 

His deep set dimples appear as he looks up at you. 

"We can listen to it tomorrow. It's supposed to rain for a few days." he replies, looking at your lace bra. 

Through the wet black lace, he can see your nipples stiffly peaked and he widens his eyes before looking back down. 

Fuck, your nipples are nice. 

There’s a short silence. He’s drinking you in at this moment, looking over your stomach, the wet sheen highlighting your soft skin. It takes every ounce of his strength to look away. 

"Go take a warm shower. I'll lay your clothes on your bed for you." he whispers, turning around. 

You clear your throat, nodding.

Walking away, his head turns slightly. 

He shouldn't look and yet, he is. 

He watches the globes of your ass jiggle with each step towards the hallway. He can’t help but ogle the way your soaked panties cling to your skin. 

He furrows his eyebrows, pressing his hand to his crotch before sighing loudly. 

"You've made it through so many years already, the fuck is wrong with you?" he chides himself, adjusting his erection as it strains against his basketball shorts.

He lays your pajamas out on your bed, sitting down on the edge. 

His fingers run over your clothes, looking up at the ceiling. 

"Yeah. You're fucked." he hisses to himself, standing tall. 

He sighs gently watching you enter the bedroom, a towel wrapped around your now clean body.

"Feel better?" he asks as you walk towards him. 

"Totally. Thanks so much Joonie." 

He hums at your words, giving you a small, unsure smile that makes his chin dimple sweetly.

You noticed how he looked at your nipples when he was drying you off. You noticed how affected he was by touching your skin. And, it begged the question. Did Kim Namjoon have a thing for you? Like you have for him? 

You've been trying to hide it for so damn long that it seems almost ridiculous after all these years. 

"Let me know if you need anything." he whispers, walking towards the door. 

Well, let’s find out just how much he likes you then.

"Joon." you call to him, gripping the towel. 

He turns his head to you, eyes looking expectantly as he gives a small smile. You open up the towel revealing your body to him and he lets out a small gasp. His eyes shoot straight to yours and you can see his inner battle of where to look. 

"Jesus, Y/N." he sounds breathless, shifting from foot to foot.

"I want you to look." you whisper and he hums unsurely, running his hands over his face.

"Do you? Because you're going to open a can of worms I've been trying to keep hidden for a long time." he breathes, eyes flitting to your nipples. 

"I want you to look." you say surely and he licks his lips before letting out a low whistle.

"What do you think?" you ask, sitting down on the bed. 

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, walking towards you. "I think you're very sexy." 

The tinge of color to your cheeks makes him all the more eager as he bends down in front of you. 

"Really?" you inquire quietly.

His tongue trails over his lips slowly, watching your nipples harden under his stare. 

"Oh yeah. Really." he whispers, looking up at you.

You lay back before looking up at the ceiling, trying to tame your heart beat as it pounds away in your chest. 

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Namjoon quips, running his hands over your thighs.

"Maybe." you reply, earning a chuckle from him. 

He kneels on the bed, fingers digging deeper into the skin of your thighs.

"We can't come back from this, y'know? I fuck you, I keep you. You know how I am." he tells you, fingers kneading at your skin. 

You wriggle at his ministrations, a gentle sigh leaving your lips. He tilts your head to look at him expectantly. 

"Do you hear me?" he inquires.

"Yes, I hear you." you breathe. 

That's all he needs before he is spreading your legs wider. 

"Fuckin' hell." he mumbles, letting his eyes roam over your body.  

"I tried so hard not to think about this. I swear to God. But, fuck, you're gorgeous." he hisses, running his hands run up your sides.

Your breath hitches at his warm hands. His touch is gentle and you find it hard to focus on almost anything other than his handsome face as his brown hair falls into his eyes. 

"Years. It's been years trying to ignore this feeling." 

His head bows down, pressing his lips to yours. 

The kiss is slow, as if Namjoon is calculating every small thing like he normally does. He's always in his own head, always thinking of what to do next. It has always been an admirable trait but right now you just want him to act. Not think.

"Show me how much you want me." you whine as he grips harder at your sides. 

His ragged breathing stirs something inside of you, stomach unfurling with wanting as his lips trail downwards. 

He leaves gentle pink petals on your skin as he suckles the column of your neck. Your fingers card through his hair, gasping his name with gentle sighs. 

His hands cup your breasts, pushing them upwards slightly as the tip of his nose drifts over your pert nipple. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” he whispers. 

The sound of your name spoken like a calm prayer upon his lips has your hips lifting off the bed. His lips part for your areola, sucking them harshly before flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue. Your hips roll in circles as he situates himself better between your legs. His knees push your legs open wider, an electric current seemingly sweeps through your body as his hands run over your sides. 

“So many times I’ve thought about being in this room. When you bring guys home and let them fuck your tight little cunt. I hear how you moan for those random guys, how you beg for more. Drove me fucking crazy.” 

There he is, the beast let out of his cage. 

This is the Kim Namjoon you were dying to see. 

Grabbing your wrist, his lips trail over the valley of your breasts before showing love to your other breast. He presses your hand snugly to his shorts and your whine is low as you feel his hard cock strain against the fabric. 

“Joonie.” you whimper, gasping when he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingertips. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” he whispers as thunder crashes throughout the sky as if Thor is pleased at your encounter.

His fingers are so warm to the touch. They drift down so slowly your breathing practically stops. You can feel your arousal beginning to weep from you as your lips part for air. 

“How wet is your pussy for me? Hmm?” he hisses, dipping his hand lower on your stomach.

His fingers make a V motion, opening your lower lips for him. A choked groan echoes throughout the room as his fingers drift lazily over your sodden folds.

 “Fuck.” he curses as his fingers become coated in your arousal. 

It’s practically sinful the way he bites his bottom lip. The way his eyes trail over your body before lewdly staring at your soaked cunt makes you feel frazzled. 

“Look at you. Your pussy is begging to be filled with me.” he murmurs with wonder.

“Joon. Please.” you beg, running your hands run over his shoulders. He hums gently at your words, licking his lips. 

“Please what?” he asks, each word punctuated with a quick slap to your pussy. 

Through sharp gasps you find the words. “Please fuck my pussy. I’m so horny for you.” 

He smirks, bending down over you, his lips connecting to yours. His thumb collects your arousal, rubbing smooth circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You gasp into his mouth, thighs beginning to shake and he takes the opportunity to thrust his tongue into your mouth with a gentle moan. His hips rut into the air, begging for relief as you whimper against his lips.

His fingers, coated in the slick juices of your cunt, thrust into your tight core without warning. Your back bows off the bed as your eyes screw shut, euphoric pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave. Moaning against your lips at the tightness of your cunt, his fingers find a steady rhythm inside of you.  

“Yes! Fuck!” you cry out, running your fingers run through his hair.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he mumbles against your jaw before rearing back and spitting on your cunt. 

The sound and feeling sends a shiver up your spine and your legs spread wider accordingly.  

The obscene squelching of your pussy sends the man above you into a frenzy. His teeth nip at the bare mound of flesh above your core before licking at your clit. As if his life depended on getting you off, he suckles earnestly at your bud. Loving the way your hips roll and undulate on his face for more. 

Tugging at his hair, your moans are almost screams, watching him eat you out so diligently -- the handsome man you denied feelings for for so long finally between your legs eating you out like it was his last fucking meal. White-hot pleasure courses through your bones as his fingers curl inside of you and he groans adding a third. You whimper his name and he finds his eyes rolling back in his skull at your sweet taste. 

It was building then, the bubble inside of you growing expansively as your thighs begin to quake. 

“You’re going to cum for me? Hmm? Make a mess all over my fingers like the pretty little girl you are?” 

Your nod is fervent at his words, your breathing becoming shallow. 

His fingers begin to scissor open your pussy and you groan at the stretch. 

“Gotta prep your sweet cunt, your pussy is too tight for my cock.” his words goad you towards the precipice. 

His lips attach back to your clit, suckling harshly against you and your eyes screw shut. Raking the pads of his fingers against the spongy nerves inside you, you find your mind growing fuzzy. Everything you hear sounds as if you are underwater as he praises you against your clit. 

“Cum for me, baby.” 

With those four words you tip over the edge, screaming his name as your eyelids go white from the pleasure. 

Your thighs quake, hands tightening in his hair as you run your clit over his tongue until you’re completely fucked out before him. 

“Good girl,” he praises.

He still continues to stretch you out for him. Murmuring words of praise to you until you come down from the cloud you were just upon. He pulls out of you slowly, watching your cunt gape for him and the groan he emits has your stomach churning for more. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” he announces, entering his fingers into his mouth. 

His eyes flutter closed at the taste, running his tongue through every finger to get every bit of your essence. 

He slips his shirt off of his body and you can’t seem to rip your eyes away from his golden skin. The lightning highlights his pecs and the small abs that contort against his stomach with every harsh breath. You’ve seen him walk around without a shirt on before. Always drooling over how sexy he was. 

But this. 

This is a fucking god send. 

His fingers find the waistband of his basketball shorts before his tongue trails slowly over his bottom lip. 

Pulling down the waistband of his shorts, your breath catches at the size of his cock. Most cocks you’ve seen in your life slap up against a man's stomach when they’re released from the confines of their pants. 

Namjoon’s cock is so large and thick that it bobs in the air at the heaviness. Two toned and sinfully hard, he chuckles at your gaping mouth. You watch as his thumb runs over the dusky rose colored veins of his length. Precum pools at the slit of his bulbous head as your pussy twitches around nothing, wanting to be filled with his cock. 

“Fuck,” is all you can say as he strokes his cock languidly. 

“Come.” he whispers, sitting back on the balls of his feet. 

You find yourself scrambling onto all fours, mouth beginning to water for him. You want to feel the heaviness of him on your tongue, taste the precum that seems to endlessly release from him. 

Your lips trail over his pecs. Suckling sweetly at the taut skin and he hisses gently in response. 

“God, your lips feel so fucking good.” 

You hum to him, shooing his hand away from his cock. 

Your hand grips at the base, eyes almost rolling back as your thumb can’t seem to meet your index finger. 

“You’re so fucking big.” you whisper, running your tongue over his dark nipple, feeling it pucker between your lips. 

“I’m gonna fuck you right open, baby.” his promise makes you preen and you trail your lips slowly to his other pectoral muscle. You can feel the thick muscle ripple underneath before suckling at his other nipple. He groans gently, body wobbling as his fingers run through your hair. 

You kiss down his golden skin, lightning highlighting his features still as the rain begins to patter harder against the window of your bedroom. Your tongue rakes over his small abs, hearing his breath catch and then stop as you descend lower. 

“Y/N.” your name is breathlessly spoken as you come face to face with his hard cock. 

Your tongue licks at your lips, watching his cock twitch with excitement in your hand. Your eyes meet his and you find it wildly attractive how his eyebrows furrow with concentration. 

Licking over the base, his body shudders. He curses quietly, a sound swallowed by thunder outside your window. Swirling your tongue over the head, you gather his precum on your tongue. Heavy and tasting like sea salt from the deepest ocean, you simply moan at the taste. 

The sound ricochets through his body as tingles are sent down his spine. His hands grasp tighter at your hair as you begin to fuck him into your mouth, slowly worshiping at his large cock and he can only gasp for you. 

“Shit, your mouth is amazing.” he mumbles, watching you with blown out irises. 

You swallow around him, beginning to fuck him quicker into your mouth to hear his moans grow louder for you. It’s the way your tongue laps at the base as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat that he puts all caution to the wind. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth, do you understand?” 

You whimper against him in confirmation, gripping his thighs.  

Taking a sharp inhale through his teeth, he begins to snap his hips to you. Your eyes well up with tears as you gag on his length. 

Swallowing around him, you groan happily as he fucks your throat. Your muscles clench and coax him and he hisses through his teeth. 

"Fuck, your mouth is so willing, isn't it? Letting me just fuck your filthy little throat like a cocksleeve." 

You moan at his words. 

One hand leaves your hair to drift down your back, the other pulling your head quicker against him as he moans loudly. His hand reaches the globe of your ass, caressing the skin before rearing back and spanking you roughly. Tears stream down your cheeks as you moan for him, spittle and precum stream over your lips and chin. 

"Look at how pretty your ass is when you get spanked. Nice and red for me." 

He rubs at the smarting skin, your thighs shake as the sting radiates through you. 

"You want more? You want your ass to be branded with my hand print?" he asks. 

You can feel his cock thickening and throbbing within your throat. 

You moan in confirmation, the new wave of arousal dripping out of you and down your inner thighs. 

He spanks you again, shorter and harder until your skin sings with a color he's pleased with. 

"You're such a good girl taking that. That was for fucking other men so loudly, you gave me no choice but to pine for you." he murmurs, running his thumbs over your tear soaked cheeks. 

He gasps gently as you hollow your cheeks, begging for him to cum down your throat. 

The thought sends your clit throbbing, wanting to have his cum stream down your throat and tongue -- wanting to feel the warm of him spread throughout your mouth. 

"Fuck! Y/N! I'm cumming, baby! Swallow it and show me." he punctuates his words with harsh thrusts, groaning loudly. 

His hips stutter before you feel the warm of him burst in your mouth. You moan as he whispers your name repeatedly. Thrusting shallowly, he milks himself of every drop. Swallowing, you find the musky taste pleasant,

When you pull off of him, you open your mouth. He smirks, running his hand over your cheek smoothly. 

"That's my girl." 

He crawls over you and your hands run over of his arms. His lips, smooth as silk drift over your nipples once more adoring how they harden all over again for him. His hips rut against you, splaying open your pussy lip as he coats the underside of his cock in your arousal. You whimper, feeling the bulbous head of his cock stimulate your clit. 

"God, I adore you." he coos, kissing you languidly.

The head of his cock prods at your entrance and you whimper against his lips as he begins to fill you. The stretch is pleasant albeit the twinge of pain from his large length but his tongue snakes into your mouth as you gasp to distract you. He groans against your lips, as he buries himself to the hilt. 

"You're so tight, baby. Fuck." his voice drops an octave, as if he's restraining himself and your walls flutter around him at the sexiness of it.

"Oh you like that? Hmm? You like hearing how fucking restless you make me?" 

He gives a shallow thrust, the bulbous head dragging through your velvet walls. Your head lolls back as his hands grip at your hips. He begins a steady pace, fucking you so well you begin to droll at the pleasure. 

"You're so goddamn wet!" he seethes through his teeth. 

Here you are, beneath him like he had dreamed so many times over. His bottom lip becomes sheathed behind his teeth as he snaps his hips quicker to yours. Your moans are loud, echoing throughout the room and through the thunder as it crashes throughout the skies. 

"Pretty little thing underneath me." he praises, grabbing your ankles and throwing them over his shoulders. 

The new angle sends white-hot pleasure coursing through your bones. Your roommate begins to fuck you faster and you can’t help but curl your toes at the feeling. 

"Choke me!" you beg him as his hand moves towards the apex of your thighs.

His grip is perfectly tight, rubbing quick circles onto your clit as he moans loudly. 

"Your pussy is so fucking messy. God, look at how you soak my cock. It's because you know who you belong to, don't you?" 

You whimper out as he fucks you deeper. 

"Who do you belong to, baby? Tell me!" 

"You! Namjoon! I belong to you!" you cry out out, the pleasure taking over your senses as tears pool in your eyes.

"That's fucking right you do. You're mine, gorgeous. All fucking mine." 

He can feel your cunt beginning to throb around him and he whimpers out as he feels his ball tighten. 

"I've wanted to cum so deep in your tight little cunt for so long. Fill you up to the brim and have people see my cum drip down your pretty legs. I want people to know who you fucking belong to. Who you beg for cock at night." 

Your fingernails rake down his skin when he lifts your hips higher.

The head of his cock caresses the sweet spot within you at each thrust and you find your mind going blank, babbling nonsense. 

"Getting dumb on my cock, baby? Is that it? Am I fucking you stupid? Hmm?"

"Joon! Fuck!" you whine, leaving bright red lines over his golden skin.

"Cum on my cock, baby. Cum and show me who you belong to." 

You can feel your pussy begin to milk him, the bubble within you about to burst. 

"That's right, baby. Show me how much you love my big cock." 

With a loud gasp, you tip over the edge. Galaxies of stars paint the back of your eyelids as tears stream down your face. 

"Fuck! Good girl! So fucking tight." he moans, shoving your ankles off of his shoulders. 

He buries his face into your neck, suckling harshly at the skin as his cock thickens once more. His hips snap harder, your name floats through the air as he finds himself coming to the same euphoric state. His thrusts stop with a loud groan and ropes of cum lather your soaked cunt. 

"Oh Jesus." he gasps, pressing his forehead to your cheek.

With a loud sigh he grabs hold of you, pulling out of you slowly before falling beside you. He pulls you to his chest and you can hear how fast his heart is beating while his eyes flutter shut. 

"Open your legs." he instructs.

You do as told and he hums happily watching your pussy begin to cream with his cum. His lips press to your forehead, looking out the window as the rain still barrages the window. 

"Why don't we get you cleaned up and I'll get us some wine, hmm? We can go out on the balcony and cuddle." 

You turn towards him, chin on his chest as your hand drifts over his stomach. "I'd love nothing more than that." you whisper. 

He smiles widely, dimples appearing for you before kissing you gently. "Me too, baby."

[paisley-print]

9:00am : The Water’s Getting Cold

About: A morning shower. 

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2005

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings:  Brief verbal spat,  mentions of vomit , implied age gap, pregnancy, family drama, fluff.

Series Master-List    also on a03

Notes: Sorry this took a little longer then usual! I was plotting out the rest of the series!

Tag List: Nobody :O 

“Jesus H Christ almighty girl. How are you not fuckin’ dead - golly” Jack said pressing himself up to the corner of the shower 

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? It’s hotter than a billy goat with a blowtorch - turn that shit down.”

You reached for the nozzle, turning it to a temperature that you found to be far too cold, then faced him, crossing your arms. “You can’t come in here and start calling the shots. I’m trying to get ready for the appointment and you’re yelling at me-”

“Yelling at you? Now who’s the dramatic one-” 

“Jack” you warned. 

He smirked, genuinely expecting you to shoot back at him with some witty comment. It was a game the two of you played often; he didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t playing it this morning. “Besides, if I remember correctly this is my house, so I can turn the water to whatever temperature I goddamn please.”

Your face contorted in anger. “You could be a real dick sometimes, you know that?”

“I never hear you complaining darlin’.” 

He reached for you, intending to kiss you, but you put your hand up to keep him at a distance and turned your head away from him. “No, I’m serious,” you said, pulling open the curtain and stepping onto the plush bath mat. “Like why the fuck would you even say something like that?”

Jack was genuinely dumbfounded by where things had escalated in such a short amount of time. “What?

“Sorry I don’t make as much fucking money as you Jack-”

“Whoa” he pulled back the shower curtain to look at you. “I was just playin around darlin’ put the guns down.”

You took the towel from the rack and wrapped it around yourself. “No, it honestly makes me upset though.”

“What? That I made a joke?”

‘That you don’t consider this our house’ you thought bitterly. You didn’t say that though, instead you just shrugged, not wanting to get into it with him this early. A rough night and an unpleasant morning was not justification to explode on your husband.

His voice was soft. “Ok look, no more jokes, scout’s honor. Now come on.”

You didn’t turn back around. 

He sighed and hung his head a little. “Y/n. Y/n….please come back? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, honey. ”

You turned to face him, voice stern. “You’ve reached your sass quota for the day.” 

“Alright I have- now come on.”

After a moment you gave in, dropping the towel and stepping back into the shower. Your eyes were big as you looked at him, “you know I don’t feel good.”

“Ok- come here I’m sorry” he reached out for you again, and you allowed him to touch you this time. Large hands came to rest on your waist and pulled you flush with his body. You sunk into his embrace. The feeling of his damp skin against yours instantly calmed your mood. 

His hand came up, fingers tracing slow lines up and down your back. He loved the curve of your body, and not in a sexual way. He just thought that your body shape created wonderful arching lines, like a marble statue in a quiet corner of a museum. You shivered at the feeling, pressing yourself closer to him, and yawned.

“Is someone still tired?” He asked, hand coming up to move the tendrils of wet hair from your face.

You had spent the better part of the night vomiting; the doctor diagnosed you with Hyperemesis Gravidarum on your last visit after you had explained your morning sickness seemed to get worse each day. It wasn’t life threatening as long as you monitored it carefully. There wasn’t a cure for it either. Some days were better than others, but today seemed particularly bad. The only reason you pulled yourself from the sanctuary of your bed was for this checkup. 

What made it worse was the knowledge that Jack wouldn’t be with you for the next few days. It was some business trip to New York, since he used to manage that branch of Statesmen. Sometimes you find it ironic that the two of you used to live in the same city at the same time. Perhaps you had even crossed paths once or twice without knowing it.

“I don’t want you to go,” you told him.

“I know, trust me honey, I don’t want to go either. I told Champ that this was the last one until after the baby. It will only be a few days though, and hey - we’ll have our dinner video calls.”

Since the mere thought of food usually made you sick, Jack made a few meals and packed them in the fridge for you to reheat. It had been difficult, but you kept your weight up. A Lot of it was because of your husband and his gentle persistence in making sure you got enough calories every day to sustain your weight.

“I love you so much,” you told him, lifting your head a little. He looked funny with water dripping from his mustache. You quirked a smile at him and he must have taken this as a sign that it was alright to kiss you.

Slowly, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your chapped lips. You sighed against his mouth as his fingers threaded gently through your hair. After a moment he broke the  kiss and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. “I love you too, honey.” 

He moved your head to the side a little, allowing him enough room to press a few lazy kisses to your jaw and the side of your throat. He sighed and pulled you against him again. The two of you stayed holding each other for a long time.

 Jack had noticed the goosebumps on your arm and turned so you were in the stream of water. You felt his hand reach for something behind you, then the temperature of the water increase.

His chin came to rest on your head, “has my sister responded to you yet?”

“Um...no, but I think she must be busy,” you mumbled

Since the wedding you had found yourself in a rather odd situation, getting to know the family you were now a part of.

The first time either of you had met each other’s families had been only a day prior to the wedding. Of course, your family was charmed by the cowboy instantly…. but Jack’s, not so much. They viewed you as an outsider and undeserving of Jack. It was clear that they were comparing you to his first wife. You noticed it in the way they interrogated you with those sweet southern smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. To them, you were a downgrade, a cheap impersonation of their beautiful late daughter-in-law. 

You didn’t tell Jack, but you had laid in bed that night feeling incredibly upset by the whole interaction. You watched him sleeping comfortably beside you, and brushed your fingers over his hair and around his ear as gently as you could. He seemed to like it because he never once woke from his slumber. Jack marrying you out of obligation was a fear you had carried since that first day, and his family only cemented that fear in your mind. You wanted to be enough for him, needed to be enough, because you loved him deeply and you doubted whether you could feel this way about another. 

But how could you ever measure up to a dead woman?

One that they’ve had years to grieve and idolize in the way the deceased often are. Emily was perfect, for all of Emily’s faults had died with her that day. She would always be young, beautiful, and the one who left far too soon. While you would grow old and make mistakes because you were a part of the living and didn’t have the luxury of being recreated in a perfect image. 

What hurt the most was when they inquired about your finances, as if it was any of their business. Even though Jack was your senior, you weren’t marrying him because of his money. It had never even crossed your mind. It had made you contact a lawyer and sign a post nuptial agreement that same week. Jack was against it and it humiliated you, but if it proved a point to his family...then so be it. 

The way they treated him blew your mind. Why wouldn’t they want him to just be happy? Had they not seen how years of loneliness had taken their toll on him? 

The biggest opposition you faced was Jack’s sister, Kelly. She hated you and made it no secret. Emily had been her best friend since kindergarten…. of course she was going to hate you. That didn’t stop you from trying with them though. You figured that after some time the Daniels might warm up to you, then you’d all be a genuine family.

That was why you had invited Kelly to attend a pottery night class that they were running at the local art school. It was juvenile; you knew, but you figured everybody liked pottery, right? She read the message four days ago and never gave you an answer. Jack never really acknowledged the way his family treated you, you didn’t even think he knew. 

A thought crossed your mind the other day, and it made you feel incredibly guilty. For a brief moment in time you toyed with the idea that the new baby could make the family love you how they had loved her, but more.

It was terrible and disgusting. As soon as you realized what you were thinking, you scolded yourself just as you did when those jealous hateful thoughts ebbed their way into your mind. 

 ‘It was not her fault, and it was not Jack’s family’s fault either,’ you had to keep reminding yourself. Your presence must have made their grief resurface, and nobody should be punished for grieving. ‘Time will pass and things will get better. They just have to get to know you. Don’t be an insecure little brat.’

You realized it had been a long while since anybody spoke. “Do you think we’ll find out the sex today?” 

Jack made a noise that showed you he was skeptical. “Dunno, might still be too early. We can ask though.”

You hummed in response, letting yourself lean on him than remembering what he said about his shoulder a few days ago. You shifted your weight back on your feet. “Don’t forget to ask Ginger about getting you one of those shots before you leave, and I packed that bottle of aspirin in the front pocket of your suitcase. I can rub it when we get home -”

He shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Darlin’, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s not that kind of trip, mostly I’ll be doing paperwork in an office. Holdin’ down the fort until the new guy comes.”

“You’ll call me when you land?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You closed your eyes and focused on the sound of his heartbeat. Soon the running water faded away, leaving only him. “We should probably get out,” you murmured softly 

“We should,” he agreed

Nobody moved.

“Jack?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Where do you think we’ll be in five years?” you asked.

“What do you mean, darlin’?”

“Like when you picture us in five years, what do we look like?”

He drew in a breath.

You could feel the weight of it against your chest.

“I don’t think about things like that, I’d much rather focus on the here and now.”

You had a million more things you wanted to ask him in those moments, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it, besides, it was getting late. “That makes sense….. I think I’m going to get out though, the water’s getting cold.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

[blossom-hwa]

valentine’s day + stray kids ✧

the enablers: @wingkkun​​ by virtue of their existence and @thepixelelf​​ bc of her @newskynet​​ valentine’s day prompt list (which can be found here! check it out :D) anyway you can blame them for my word vomits tonight tomorrow <3 happy early valentine’s day and I hope you enjoy these blurbs!

pairing: stray kids x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 3.5k (total)

genre: fluff, lots of fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

golcha version | the boyz version

SKZ Scenarios Masterlist | SKZ Drabbles Masterlist

1. “shit, what day is it again?”

when chan opens the door to a beaming you, he has no idea what’s going on. he still has headphones around his neck, there are definitely bags under his eyes, he hasn’t slept in maybe close to twenty hours, and there is definitely something important that he’s forgetting, judging by the nonplussed expression that has now slid over your face. 

“chan, when did you sleep last night?” you ask, stepping into his dorm. you’re holding something behind your back that chan’s craning his neck to see, but you catch sight and twist away. “hey, no looking.”

the knowledge that you have something is more than enough, though, to get his overly tired brain actually thinking. his eyes narrow. what the heck is he forgetting - 

oh. 

oh no. 

chan scrambles around for his phone as you look over, eyebrows rising as he pats his pockets. “shit, what day is it again?” 

you hold up your own phone, giving him an eyeful of your lock screen set to a picture of himself laughing into the camera. he isn’t focused on that, though - he’s focused on the words underneath the time that say “february 14, 2021.”

“oh my god, it’s valentine’s day.”

“no shit, sherlock.” you put a finger to his forehead and press hard. “i made reservations.”

“what? okay, no, i swear you didn’t tell me about this -”

“i didn’t, chan.” you smile, shaking your head. “it was supposed to be a surprise. and i knew you’d forget the day or something because you always do lose track of time - hey, don’t look at me that way, i even made a bet with minho on the way and i’m right - so i came early to force you to sleep for several hours before we go out.”

okay, that’s fair, but chan’s lips curve downward into a pout anyway. “i didn’t forget,” he protests. “well, i forgot today, but i still have something for you! i got it last week.” he looks around frantically, then drags a box out from underneath his bed. “here!”

a wide smile splits your face and you pull your own present from behind your back, a red-wrapped box that chan begins to open as you cuddle the teddy bear he’s handed over to you. “chan, you sap,” you say, words muffled in the bear’s fur. “god i love you.”

“and i love you too,” he replies, pulling out a box of his favorite candy. “kiss?”

laughing, you press your lips together once, twice before pulling away. “sleep time,” you announce. “no kisses until you’ve gotten at least three hours.”

chan all but lunges into bed, trapping you with him between his arms. “sleeping now,” he says, voice muffled into your shirt. “goodnight.”

“good afternoon, more like.” you smile anyway, stroking his hair. “but good night.”

18. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

minho is about to lose his shit in this tiny hospital bed with the sterile white sheets and curtains barring sunlight from streaming on his body. back when his ankle wasn’t broken to high hell, he really hadn’t given the sun enough appreciation. after three days of almost zero movement, though, he swears he’ll actually go outside voluntarily once he gets out of here. 

the door opens. a head peeks in. 

ah. there’s his daily dose of human sunshine. 

a smile slides onto minho’s face as you come in, arms full of snacks and flowers. you place a bouquet of red roses on the little table beside his bed and dump the snacks onto his sheets. “happy valentine’s day, idiot boyfriend who broke his ankle just three days before today.”

minho scowls. “it’s not like i tried to.”

“i know. even you’re not that dumb.” you pat his head mockingly, laughing as minho’s scowl deepens. “sit up, idiot. here, i’ll help.”

he allows his frown to turn into a grudging smile as you help him sit properly in bed, careful not to jar his ankle before passing him one of the bags of chocolates in his lap. “jisung gave this to me for you and asked me to ask you if you would be his valentine.”

minho pauses in opening the bag. “what.”

“jisung for you.” you laugh. “his partner was right next to him laughing their ass off. try the chocolates.”

he picks one out. puts it in his mouth. chews. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

“what - how the fuck do you know what chalk tastes like?”

“i don’t, what the fuck? i just imagine it would taste like this.”

you snort. “so my boyfriend first breaks his ankle dancing three days before we valentine’s, and on this romantic day i learn he’s definitely eaten chalk.” you sigh, snatching a bag of gummies from the sheets. “what a day.”

“i don’t eat chalk!”

“bet.” 

he opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off with a kiss. “eat your chalk chocolate,” you direct when you pull away. “or jisung will get upset.”

“ugh fine.” he rolls his eyes. “but i’m only listening to you because i love you.”

“cheeseball.” you smile. “i love you too.”

20. “babe.” / “since when do you call me babe?”

grinning, jisung picks up the bouquet of roses you were about to hand him before falling to the ground in laughter. “these for me?”

“no, they’re for my valentine.” you snatch them back, still wheezing. “which was going to be you, but you ditched me for minho, so now i need to find someone else.”

“aw, come on.” jisung pouts, pursing his lips actively even as you try to hide the smile on your face by turning away. “y/n! y/n. y/nnnnnnnnn. y/n, look at me. please? y/n. babe.”

“what the - jisung - since when do you call me babe?” your half disgusted, half amused face sends him into hysterics as he glomps you in a hug, laughing into your shoulder. “hey, sung! get away! you’re drooling on my clothes!”

“am not!” jisung pulls away, trying to pout but laughing too hard to do so. you just looked so fucking funny. “and what’s wrong with me calling you babe?”

“don’t do it again.” you push his shoulder. “do not. you won’t like the consequences.”

“consequences?”

“one, you don’t get these flowers. i’ll put them in my own room.” you wave the bouquet in front of him. “two, i give chan the all clear to play ‘wow’ on his campus radio station.”

“you wouldn’t dare -”

“three, no kisses for a week.”

jisung falls to his knees. “no, no, y/n, my beautiful and wonderful significant partner, i will never call you babe again, please don’t sentence me the barren world of no kisses for a week just because of my idiot mouth -”

“jesus christ, jisung, get up. you’re making a scene.” you laugh anyway, pulling him up before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. “i was just joking. but please don’t call me babe if you don’t want me to cringe to the next dimension.”

“done deal.” jisung holds his out his hands. “flowers?”

you roll your eyes, handing them over. he breathes in their scent, smiling widely. “they’re so pretty!” then he looks up and winks. “but not as pretty as you.”

at that, you laugh again, crushing the bouquet as you wrap him in a hug. “i love you so much, jisung,” you murmur into his ear.

his arms reach out to loop around your waist as he pulls you closer. “i love you too,” he replies, smiling.

for a moment, you two only stand, finding peace in each other’s warmth. then jisung’s mouth runs once more.

“you know, i wrote my lyrics for ‘wow’ thinking of you.”

“do you have to ruin every moment?”

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin doesn’t even bother to reply to the picture jisung’s just sent of the flowers his partner gave him. he’s too nervous, his stomach literally fluttering as he stops his motorcycle by the curb and wheels it into the shop.

“hi, welcome, what can i - changbin?” you raise an eyebrow. “did you seriously bang up your motorcycle on valentine’s day?”

changbin’s ears turn bright red. he knows it even if he can’t see them. you think he always comes here because something else has magically gone wrong with his motorcycle, but what you don’t know is that he’s been pretending things are wrong with the vehicle for months at this point just so he has an excuse to see you. 

and now it’s valentine’s day. the day he chose to fess up and admit how he feels and ask you on a date. 

heck. 

“nothing’s... broken.” changbin scratches his neck. “uh...”

both of your eyebrows are now high up on your forehead. “so why are you here?”

“i...” he coughs, feeling his ears flare even hotter. “i wanted - i wanted to ask if you -” he looks down, unable to look at you. “i wanted to ask if you would go out with me today. like. on a date.”

silence. he doesn’t have the courage to look up. 

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin shrinks behind his motorcycle. holy fuck, this was the worst idea, you’re about to reject him and his heart is going to shatter -

then you step forward, place a hand on the vehicle. “okay, that came out wrong.” you tip his chin up gently so he’s forced to look into your soft, teasing eyes. “what i meant is that i’d love to go on a date with you today. i just didn’t expect you to ask me out on valentine’s day. didn’t seem like a very you thing to do.” you pause. “though i guess considering that song you played for me last time, it isn’t that surprising.”

oh, god. on track. changbin wrote that thinking of you. 

“wait, seriously?”

he really just said that out loud. changbin groans, slapping his forehead. “why am i dumb,” he mumbles into his hand. 

you laugh, peeling his hand away with grease-covered fingers. “you’re not dumb, bin. just sweet.” as he melts from the use of your nickname, you wave your greasy palm in front of his face. “let me go wash and tell seungmin to close up early. i’ll be out in a second.” you grin. “looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

(later, when you wrap your now clean arms around changbin’s waist on his motorcycle, he smiles so wide it feels like his face is going to split.)

25. “i love you.”

with a relieved sigh, seungmin locks up the shop, wiping grease-stained fingers on a towel. despite the fact that he mostly only handles the register, dirt still manages to get everywhere, even when he tries to be careful. 

doesn’t matter. seungmin likes his job, likes it even though it’s a little hard to be independent from his parents after so many years of living off their credit card. the freedom is sweet, though - now he can learn what he wants, do what he wants, and best of all...

now he can date whom he wants.

seungmin smiles, running up to his dorm so he has just enough time to change and shower before meeting you. he cleans up quickly before grabbing the singular rose in a glass on his desk and racing downstairs once more, hair still slightly damp, to meet you in front of the building. 

god, you’re beautiful, standing against the backdrop of the afternoon sun. in the moment that you don’t notice him walking out the door, he runs forward, smiling, before engulfing you in a back hug. 

“hey - oh, seungmin.” he can hear the smile in your voice as you clutch his hands hanging around your shoulders. “you scared me!”

“sorry,” he says, pulling away to spin you around. god, looking into your laughing face, seungmin knows everything was worth it. he may have lived in the lap of luxury before, attending parties every other weekend and drinking the finest champagne while dressed in the most resplendent clothing (courtesy of the kim family empire), but luxury doesn’t mean much when he was missing real, true love, right? you were one of the first, other than hyunjin, to see through his cold facade and break into the warm heart underneath. 

as he hands you the rose, he’s glad, so glad that you gave him the courage to go head to head with his parents for the first time, to finally break away from their strangling control over every bit of his life. what did he need parties and designer clothing and jewels for, anyway? he’s still living, still able to support himself even if it means a little more work. and even if he’s tired, he has your lips to come back to, every day. 

“i love you,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, sweetly. “i really do, y/n.”

“so do i,” you breathe, smiling against his lips in reply.

12. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

hyunjin kind of wants to hit you, significant other or not. judging by your shit-eating grin, you probably know exactly how he feels, but you keep your eyes as soft and innocent as possible. “no, i don’t know what day it is, hyunjin. isn’t it just february 14?”

“y/n.”

“hyunjin.”

he groans, sinking dramatically to the ground. “it’s valentine’s day.”

“oh. right.” you adopt a thinking expression, raising your eyes to the sky. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

“y/n!”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” you finally laugh, reaching out a hand to pull him up from the university quad. “hey, get up, hyunjin. you’re going to get your designer clothes dirty.”

shit, he is. hyunjin accepts your hand, dusting grass bits off of his shirt. “you’re so mean,” he whines. “to think i had a whole evening planned and all, just for you to pretend to forget the entire day.”

“ah, but i didn’t forget. i only pretended to.” you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “and to prove it, i have something for you! close your eyes.”

eagerness and apprehension flooding his veins, hyunjin shuts his eyes. for a moment, he hears you digging around in your bag, and then you put something in his hand. “here!”

opening his eyes, hyunjin looks down to see a pair of elegant earrings in his palm. you made them, definitely - he can see the tiny mark of your initials etched in the metal of one earring, his initials on the other - and he smiles wide, so wide, all of your previous transgressions forgotten in this moment. “i love them,” he says, already unfastening the hoops currently in his ears to put the new ones in. 

“i thought you would. hey, let me help.” your fingers take the earrings, deftly inserting one into each ear. “perfect.”

“i have something for you two, but you’ll get it later.” hyunjin pockets his old earrings before taking your hand. “right now, i’m taking you on a date.”

“what, i have no say in this?” your eyes sparkle. 

“nope!” hyunjin laughs, swinging your arms in the air. “come on, i swear the evening’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“i believe you.” you stop him to kiss him once, softly. “everything’s fun with you, hyunjin.”

15. “shut up and kiss me.”

with the brownie box in his hands almost empty, felix makes every effort to dodge anyone who knows for fear that they’ll ask for one of the last few treats left inside. hyunjin took like five earlier, jesus christ, even when felix warned him he was saving some for you. ungrateful brat. 

thankfully, no one accosts him, and he makes it to your meeting place without interruption. there you already are, mindlessly twirling a bouquet of roses around in your fingers. as he approaches, you look up, and felix is (once again) blown away by the intensity of your smile. 

some people liken him to the sun. others, with his freckles, compare him to the stars. both, though, felix thinks are more proper descriptors for you and your lovely grin that’s as bright as the sun and the stars combined. 

“felix!” you stand as he comes closer, handing him the roses. he passes over the box of brownies and you screech in delight, taking off the lid and popping one of them into your mouth. “oh my god, it’s so good.”

“don’t talk with your mouth full,” felix scolds, smiling anyway. “do you only love me for my brownies?”

“maybe” is the cheeky reply. you laugh as felix reels in mock astonishment, placing a dramatic hand to his chest. “i’ve been betrayed,” he wheezes. “stabbed in the back by my one true love who turned traitor to our romance, how will i live -”

“hey, felix?”

he looks up. “hm?”

your eyes sparkle. “shut up and kiss me.”

your lips taste like chocolate, sweeter even than the brownie you just finished. felix puts his arms around you, rose petals brushing against your back as he holds you close, close, closer - 

“oh my god.”

a familiar voice makes felix pull away from your lips as he turns around. “jeongin?”

“nope, nope, nope,” the younger boy chants, eyes fully closed. “i saw none of that, jesus christ, come on, let’s go -”

too late, felix notices the person standing next to his friend, eyes also screwed shut. a smirk rises on his face. that must be jeongin’s crush, he thinks as they race away, the crush he’s been sweating over asking out for the last few weeks. 

“aw, man.” felix frowns, suddenly coming to a realization. “jeongin probably wanted to confess here.”

“he’ll do fine,” you laugh, tugging at his arm. “now get back here. we’re not finished.”

felix smiles, pulling you close once more. “no, we aren’t.”

6. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

listen. jeongin did not need to see felix making out with his partner right before he was about to confess. not only did it completely ruin his plans to talk to you in the prettiest part of campus, but he also has an image seared into his mind that he really does not need. 

“sorry,” he mutters, still unable to look at you. 

“it’s fine.” jeongin can hear the second hand embarrassment in your voice. “it wasn’t your fault. uh.” you pause. “you said... you wanted to tell me something?”

right. jeongin squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the previous images from his brain. “yeah. i did. um.” he swallows, then forces himself to look into eyes that sparkle in the fading sunlight, eyes that he fell in love with so many months ago when you two first worked on that project together. 

thankfully, his words don’t fail him. “i just wanted to say i like you a lot, y/n.” jeongin keeps looking at you, even though all he wants to do is run away screaming. “as in... i want to ask you out. if that’s okay with you.”

silence. 

then you start giggling. 

jeongin frowns. why - 

“oh my god, jeongin.” you double over on the bench, laughing even harder. “i’m so sorry.”

his heart sinks as embarrassment begins to burn his ears. “if you don’t like me -”

“no, no!” you straighten, wiping your eyes. “no, it’s not about that. it’s just -” you snort - “oh my god, you wanted to ask me out in the garden, right? but felix was there, and... jesus christ. jeongin, i’m so sorry.”

his cheeks flare red, but he also lets out a major sigh of relief that your laughter wasn’t a rejection. “yeah,” he says, a grudging smile climbing onto his face. “yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”

you wipe your eyes again. “sorry for laughing. i didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything. i’d actually love to go out with you.” you smile. “really.”

“well, thank god for that.” jeongin huffs, cheeks still hot. “or i would’ve gotten this for nothing.” he holds out a small teddy bear. “this is for you.”

“oh.” you take it, eyes turning soft. “oh. no one...” you swallow. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

jeongin’s heart melts, it really does, seeing the slow, shy smile spread across your face as you hold the bear close. “thank you, jeongin.”

“you’re welcome,” he breathes, hardly able to find his words as the sun creates a stunning backdrop behind you as it begins to set. “happy valentine’s day, y/n.”

you smile wide, so wide. “happy valentine’s day, jeongin.”

[ghostiewriter]

I had an idea for 39, I can picture them dress shopping for a kook event kie has to go to and shes getting jjs opinion on them

Ahhh I���m sorry this took so long but I hope you like it! Also thank you for saving me having to come up with something totally alone 💀😂

Word Count: 2.3K

Prompt: “What colour do you like better?”

“So, what is this one for again?”

“The annual country club charity gala.”

“I thought that was last month.”

“Yeah, they have multiple galas, dude. Catch up.”

Kiara was appreciative of the life she was given. She understood her privileges, and she as grateful to live in a world where she didn’t have to worry about the food on her plate or the roof over her head or the money in her account. Her parents had worked hard and it paid off. When she met the pogues, her appreciation grew but she also learnt that she didn’t have to be the only one with these privileges. The boys were stubborn though, so most of it was subtle and never made them feel like she was treating them like charity cases. And the boys also appreciated that despite her background, Kie wasn’t like the usual kooks who rubbed their money in your face. She was humble about it. She used her privileges for good whenever she could.

However, it was easy to forget that Kie was a kook sometimes. Even she, herself, forgot sometimes. She was a pogue at heart, through and through. But then she was thrown into the deep-end of the kook lifestyle by her parents and it was always a harsh reminder. The worst ones were the galas—because what else did rich people have to do in their lives other than have countless parties and events they claimed were for charity and the greater good but was just an excuse to dress up and show off? The answer was nothing. They had nothing else better to do.

Kiara despised these events with a passion. She was all up for raising money for charities and supporting the local organisations that could achieve so much with enough funding. In fact, Kie had dragged the boys down with her to help in local beach clean-ups and charity events where they could help support. However, these kook events just sucked the charity out of the galas and left her with a night of dealing with passive aggressive comments and nosey adults who needed to mind their business.

But no matter how hard she tried, she could never get out of them. It seemed like her mother always had the perfect blackmail to use against her, she knew the perfect things to say that trapped Kiara and gave her no choice but to go to these galas. It was how she now found herself in the mainland boutiques, searching for a new dress. Originally, she had planned to drag Sarah with her but the other claimed she was too wrapped up on event planning that she didn’t have enough time. So, Kiara took her next best options: JJ Maybank, the only person who was free to join her on a day trip to the mainland.

However, dress shopping was a little out of JJ’s comfort zone. When Kie said that they were heading to the mainland, he was expecting something a little more exciting or action packed, not following Kie around some small boutique as he carried the dresses she was picking out of the racks and ignoring the judgemental stares he was getting from people far more appropriately dressed than he was. Apparently the rich weren’t huge fans of tanks and khaki short and combat boots. Sucks to be them.

“They really have no life beyond playing dress up, do they?” JJ muttered as he watched Kie pick up two dresses: one silver and one a light pink. She tilted her head, looking them up and down before she slipped them back onto the rack.

“It’s all they are good at.” She retorted with a snort, not giving JJ much warning before she began to head to the other side of the store.

“You know, for someone who is adamant that she hates these things, you sure take them seriously.” He commented, glancing down at the pile of dresses he had been lugging around since they entered the shop around forty minutes ago.

“Unless I want my head bitten off by my mother, I kinda have to.” She said with a shrug as she took out two dresses before turning to him. “What colour do you like better?”

He glanced between them. One was black—long sleeved, low back and the hem was brushing the floor despite the fact she was holding them up. The second one was red, and JJ noted the long slit that was running up the left side of the dress. The image of Kiara in either of them made him clear his throat a little, hoping that his cheeks weren’t noticeably burning up. “You look hotter in red.”

“Charming.” She deadpanned but she placed the red dress in the pile before she continued to move along the racks. Eventually, Kiara decided she had enough options and dragged him to the dressing room.

JJ sat on the small couch across from the dressing room, head leaning against the wall as his fingers tapped aimlessly against his thighs. “Kie, it’s been like two hours. How much longer?” He whined.

“It’s been like two minutes, dumbass.” She retorted from behind the curtain. “Just gimme a sec.”

“How long does it take to put on one dress?” He muttered. “You know, if you need help undressing, I am happy to offer my assistance.”

“I’m gonna pretend you want to keep your balls and didn’t say that.”

“Ooh, mama’s mad.” He could almost imagine the glare she was sending him through the curtain. “All I’m saying is—” But the words were lost the second the curtain opened and he saw Kiara on the other side.

She was wearing the red dress—the one on the top of the pile. JJ didn’t even know where to focus: on the slit that ran up her leg and made them look never-ending, or the way that it clung onto her body so perfectly like it was made for her, or how the crimson colour complimented her skin and made her look absolutely stunning. He was pretty sure some higher power was laughing down at him and the stuttering mess he had become.

“Uh, yeah,” He mumbled, scratching his nose. “You...it…yeah.”

Kiara smiled a little. “Yeah?”

“That one, should definitely wear that one.” He finally got out, gulping a little before he finally looked up at her.

“I still have five more dresses to try one.” She narrowed her eyes at him before she turned back around, closing the curtain behind him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He let out a sigh, running his hands over his face. He could barely survive one dress, let alone five more.

The next hour or so seemed to pass excruciatingly slow. JJ was pretty sure he was in hell and this was his torture, having to watch Kie model all these dresses and look jaw-droppingly beautiful and not be able to do anything about it. It was like the universe decided being stuck in the friend-zone wasn’t bad enough.

Eventually, she was done and sent him to wait outside whilst she paid for the dress she chose. He wasn’t sure it was a blessing or not that he didn’t know which one she would wear. Maybe because he knew that he wouldn’t be the only one that would see her in that dress, and unlike himself, maybe they had a chance.

When Kie exited the store, she gave him a grin before she began tugging his hand as they headed towards a store across the street—further away from the dock where he suspected they would be going.

“Did Cinderella remember she needed some glass slippers?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No,” She turned to give him a wink. “She just remembered that her Prince Charming needs a suit.” He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he convinced himself that she was just joking back with him.

You see, JJ was so caught up on the dazed state he felt after seeing Kie in all those dresses that it took him up until he was being shoved into the dressing room that he realised what it all meant. She was taking him to the charity gala. He was her date to the charity gala. And just when JJ assumed the torturing couldn’t get worse.

That was how JJ found himself standing amongst some of the richest people on the island, champagne glass in hand as he and John B tried to ignore the judgemental glares being sent their way. They had been told they would meet their dates at the gala, and now both of them were really regretting that plan.

“I don’t know, dude, she never said she was taking you as a friend. Maybe it does mean something.” John B suggested, sparking a little flame of hope in JJ that he quickly extinguished.

“She also never said that we weren’t going as friends.” He muttered with a shrug, downing the rest of the bubbly liquid with one gulp.

“You both are the most oblivious people, I swear.” John B huffed with a shake of his head. “And that’s coming from me of all people.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“THAT!” John B exclaimed, although after receiving some pointed looks, he quickly lowered his voice. “You just proved my p—holy shit!”

JJ’s head snapped around just in time to see Kiara and Sarah at the top of the stairs, however, the blond couldn’t even bring himself to look at the middle Cameron, his eyes were completely drawn to Kie.

And she was in that fucking red dress.

If JJ was struggling for words when he saw her in the dressing room, he was absolutely rendered speechless now. She looked beautiful—no, better than beautiful. She looked like a goddess. JJ had to pinch himself as she walked down the steps towards him just to make sure he was actually alive and hadn’t just died and went to heaven.

And when she stepped off the final step, she couldn’t help but smirk as she placed a finger under his chin. “Better shut your mouth, you’re catching flies, Jay.”

Oh, he was definitely dead.

JJ wasn’t sure how long had passed but he could barely take his eyes off her, and it seems like the other guests couldn’t either. He hated the jealousy that flared up inside him, mostly because he knew that he had no right to feel this way. But that didn’t stop him.

He tried to be subtle about it: stayed by her side for the whole night, casually had his arm around her in any situation he could, made sure to give slightly pointed looks to anyone that stared a little too long at Kiara. He thought he was being subtle but Kiara noticed. Of course she noticed, she wasn’t blind.

They finally had a moment together when they were on the dance floor, a slow song playing around them as the couples populated the dance floor. They were surrounded by people and yet, they still felt like they were in their own bubble.

“So, how pissed is your mum?” He asked, a small smirk on his lips. However, he noticed her confused glance and quickly continued. “You know, that you brought me and not some kook eye candy.”

“I’d say you offer better eye candy than any of them could.” She commented with a small laugh. “But, surprisingly, she wasn’t too bothered. She expected it.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “She did?”

“Jay…” She trailed off, her hands around his neck faltering a little as she stopped moving, now just staring at him.

“Have I told you how breath-taking you look?” JJ spoke up, desperate to change the topic of conversation. “I mean, I hate to say I told you so but you do look pretty hot in red—”

“JJ.” She said in a soft but firm voice. “Why do you think I brought you as my date?”

He gulped a little, putting on that usual smile he used whenever he was uncomfortable or hurt. She hated that he was using it with her. “Just thought you wanted to get some revenge on your mum since she dragged you to this thing.” He said with a shrug. “Who better to bring into the kook-fest than good ol’ JJ Maybank, right?”

“You can be really dense sometimes, Maybank.” She muttered, her words contradicting the soft expression on her face.

“What?” His voice barely a whisper. They both stood still in the middle of the dance floor, faces inches away from each other.

“I like you, Jay.” She whispered, smiling at him. “And I invited you because I thought you’d finally catch the hint.”

JJ looked at her, mouth slightly agape as he tried to process what she saying. “Y-You like me? As in, like-like me?”

She laughed a little, nodding her head. “Yeah, I like-like you.”

His grin grew a little. “I like-like you too.”

“Good, because otherwise it would be really awkward if I did this.” She murmured before she took his face in her hands, bringing his lips down to her own.

His hands instantly tightened their hold on her waist, tugging her a little closer. They became wrapped up in one another, neither one bothered by the judgemental looks and disgust from the people around them. In that moment, it was just JJ and Kiara. Just Kiara and JJ.

When they finally pulled away from each other, foreheads pressed against each other and matching grins on their faces, JJ found himself once again believing he was dead and in heaven. “I’ve been waiting so long to do that.”

She hummed. “Me too.”

“And to tell you that your ass looks great in this dress.”

“Always the charmer.”

“Only for you.”

“Your ass looks great too in those pants.”

“I know.”

[poguesofthebau]

Idea to write for OBX!!!! The pogues just having a good evening together, like playing truth or dare like 16 year olds before the events of the show take place!!

heyo all, writing is hard for me recently so i decided that i would do something based off what real life is like right now with a lil inspo from this request tossed in :) hope you like it!! (naturally, reader is dating jj in this bc i can’t help myself hehe oops)

summary: jj, y/n, and the rest of the pogues (including sarah) live in the world we’re all currently living in: quarantine. so what happens when the craziest friend group in the obx are trapped inside the Chateau for weeks at a time without any authority figures or outsiders? to put it simply, anarchy happens. (alternate summary: what i wish i was doing during this stupid quarantine instead of sitting in my room to avoid my parents’ hovering.) (alternate, simple summary: a hot ass day in quarantine with the pogues.) word count: 2101

sticky. why the hell were you sticky?

you opened your eyes with a deep groan, peeling yourself from jj with a disgusted look on your face. “jj, get off of me.” you’d both been laying on your stomachs as you slept, but the boy had somehow wound up directly on top of you. it would’ve been kind of endearing, cute almost, to wake up so close to jj, if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

someone across the room laughed lightly, and you slipped out from under jj and flipped onto your back, sitting up and squinting to see who it was. when you saw sarah, kie, and pope staring at you from the table a few feet away from the pull-out couch, you let out an annoyed puff of air, raking a hand through your bedhead to slightly calm it. leaning back on your hands, you glanced back down at your boyfriend. his nose was scrunched up, and his hand started rustling around the sheets until it made contact with your right calf. satisfied, his face relaxed again. before you could look back to your friends, pope was speaking. “i don’t know how the two of you managed to sleep like that all night. with those body temperatures combined, i’m pretty sure you should’ve burst into flames by like, 2am.”

“c’mon, pope,” sarah smirked. “they’re in love. their feelings for each other, they’re hotter than anything. like, hotter than--”

“hotter than the flames in hell!” kie interrupted proudly. “and the obx may feel like it’s hotter than that already, but--”

“nothing compares to their sacred, burning love.” sarah and kie both smiled smugly at their own ability to finish each other’s sentences, fist bumping as pope shook his head. “that was good. i love us.” the girls giggled again, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“can you corny fucks shut the hell up? a guy can never get a wink of sleep around here, shit.” with that, jj was rolling over, too, a very unimpressed look plastered on his face as he scolded his friends. not as eager to be awake as you had been, jj groaned as he stretched, flopping into your lap on his back when he was finally done waking himself up. your hands naturally found their way to his hair, scratching at his scalp subconsciously as you looked around at the mess of the Chateau. “where’s jb at? and why is it so fucking hot in here?”

“you can’t really complain about body temps when you’re curled up in your girlfriend’s lap like a cat, bro,” pope pointed out. jj rolled his eyes as pope continued. “but since you asked so nicely, it’s the first heat wave of the year-- you’d know that if you ever listened to anything i say throughout the day. john b’s out trying to get food and water and stuff before it’s all gone.”

jj muttered something under his breath about wishing pope had gone out with their other friend as his eyes closed again at the feeling of your fingertips on his hairline. “you know what we should do today?”

“make out? at least let me brush my teeth first, you animal,” jj interjected. you flicked his nose, ignoring the comment otherwise. “oh, so you don’t wanna make out? alright, y/n, but just remember, it’s your rule!”

“jj, why does everything always have to be about you?”

“i have needs, kie!”

“okay, okay, okay, i think y/n had an idea. let the woman speak!” sarah quickly redirected.

“thank you,” you smiled pointedly at sarah. “i think-- and tell me if there are any objections-- i think, maybe, we should day-drink.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, the door beside you was swinging open with a creak, john b bursting into the room. “did someone say-- DAY-DRINK?” he held up a six pack of beer in each hand, that bright and proud john b grin plastered on his face. the entire group cheered, jumping up to help him bring in the groceries he’d gotten his hands on. “thanks to mr. c’s non-existent credit card limit, we are now loaded. thanks kie!” he tossed her dad’s card back on the table, the curly haired girl laughing at his words. kiara had somehow convinced her parents that spending her quarantine with the pogues at john b’s house was an acceptable idea, and they had even given her an emergency credit line for necessities and necessities only.

beer was an absolute need for the pogues, to be fair.

----

a few hours later, everyone was pretty day-drunk, so to speak.

sarah was currently engaged in a deep conversation with pope about why, exactly, he wanted to be a coroner so badly. you were in the middle of an arm-wrestling tournament against john b, with jj and kie passing the group’s second blunt of the afternoon back and forth. “y/n, your hand is fucking slippery!”

“fuck you, john b! it’s sweaty! haven’t you noticed that it’s a million damn degrees in this place?”

the arm wrestling tourney came to a close soon after, and the group went back to sweating, smoking, and throwing back beers. your feet wound up in jj’s lap as you tried to fan yourself with an empty, folded up cardboard box that one of the six-packs had come in. “hey kie, do you think your dad would mind if we used his credit card to buy a decent air conditioning system for this shithole? no offense, john b.”

“actually, y/n, i kind of take offense to that. just a little, you know?” you stuck your tongue out at your friend, throwing your piece of cardboard at him.

“you know, guys,” sarah spoke up. “me and my sister used to play this game--”

“oh, sarah, please tell me it’s not truth or dare with no dare.” john b’s face twisted into disapproval, and it was sarah’s turn to stick her tongue out at him.

“it is truth or dare with no dare, and i don’t hear any better ideas from anyone else, so we’re playing.”

jj’s hand came down on your ankle as he sat up and looked at the other blonde of the group. “actually, i’m thinking me and y/n will just roll another blunt and go hide in the guest room. that would be a better idea, i think.”

“no way, dumbass! if we have to do it, you two are sticking around for it too. pogues never abandon pogues, remember?” kie and her rules. “so, who starts?”

“well usually when i’ve played before it’s only been two people, so maybe i’ll ask the first question and we can all go around and answer?” jj groaned at this new development, causing you to smile. you flopped around on the futon a bit until your side was pressed against his, and he threw his arm around your shoulders once you’d settled. “okay, first question. um, let’s see... i don’t know. what’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?”

----

“weirdest place you’ve ever had sex. three, two, one, go!” jj pointed to john b, and the entire group erupted into laughter. john b was clearly struggling to think of an answer, and jj, who had become strangely invested in hour-long game, was running out of patience. “c’mon, man!”

“jesus christ, jj, i don’t know!” john b choked out through his laughs. “a bell tower, i guess?”

“great! sarah? where’ve ya done it, kook princess?” that one earned a smack on the arm from you, and jj quickly rephrased. “sorry! i meant, uh, where’ve ya-- i don’t know. just-- what’s your answer?”

sarah glanced between john b and jj, hesitating before she answered. “conveniently enough, my answer is also... a bell tower.”

with the ruckus that answer caused, you weren’t expecting the game to end any time soon.

----

“oh, my god. i finally don’t feel like i’m burning alive anymore.” pope threw his arms victoriously above his head as he made the statement, kie smiling at him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“that’s how fucked the weather’s gonna be forever if humans don’t start taking care of the planet, pope. isn’t that crazy?” pope looked at her and nodded with a slightly terrified look in his eye, not finding the person kie became when drunk completely trustworthy to not flip out on him for his history of littering and excessive plastic use.

“you know, guys,” john b called out, quickly changing the subject. “this is kind of insane.”

“what do you mean, johnny boy? what’s so insane about a heat wave?” your head was pretty much buried in jj’s chest as you spoke, with his hands slowly tracing big circles in your back. the last blunt of the night had just been smoked, and it was hitting you both a little harder than the others had. for the past few minutes, you’d been thinking about you and jj finally making your way to the guest room for the more intimate one-on-one time that the weed had made you crave. as soon as he’d put the roach down, you’d crawled into his lap. the temperature had dropped reasonably, and the sticky feeling you’d experienced that morning was now completely out of the picture. your left hand was wrapped around jj’s neck, your right just hidden under his shirt as your thumb stroked back and forth just above his hip. jj had watched you nuzzle into that position through hooded red eyes with a little amused smile playing his lips, before returning the physical affection by sliding one hand reassuringly onto the back of your neck and letting the other draw shapes into your back.

by the time john b had finished gazing around lovingly at the group before answering, you had almost forgotten about having asked a question to begin with. “not the heat wave, y/n.” his correction reminded you of what the conversation had been, and your tilted your head up to make eye contact with jj. when you locked eyes, you knew jj was thinking the same thing as you: john b’s about to get corny and emotional. and you were both right. “seriously, look at us. isn’t this crazy?” you and jj smiled at each other, and you placed a loving kiss on his jawline before refocusing your sight on john b. “how did we all end up together? i mean, three losers who met in elementary school,” john b listed, looking to you and jj with a bright smile as you felt jj squeeze your neck lightly. “a weird kid who, for some reason, is totally obsessed with dead bodies and shit,” pope looked a john b awkwardly as kie giggled, slipping her hand into pope’s. “and a couple of fucking kooks.” sarah hummed from her spot next to john b, kie sarcastically saluting with her free hand. “you guys, somehow, we all got together, all found each other. what are the odds of that? what are the odds that we found this totally perfect, totally dysfunctional but perfect little family?”

before you could stop yourself, you felt the first tear slip down your face. “fuck you, john b,” you muttered quietly, taking your hand out from under jj’s shirt to swipe at the wetness on your face. scrubbing away the rest of the tears in your eyes before they could escape, you put your hand back down on jj’s arm this time.

“yeah, fuck you, john b. why you makin’ my girl cry, bro?” everyone chuckled softly, admiring each other in the moment. “alright, though, really. since she’s already crying, i guess i should say it now.” your head lifted back up to look at jj, and he looked back down at you as he continued. “i love you.” as you both broke into smiles, he looked back to your friends. “i love all of you guys. you’re all annoying as fuck, and i know i live for giving you all a hard time and stuff. but seriously. this is my family. pogues forever.”

“shit,” kie muttered this time, her thumb swiping under her own eyes as pope looked down at her adoringly. “pogues forever, guys. thank you for taking in us stupid kooks and letting us be who we are. pogues for-fucking-ever.”

“as corny as it sounds, i feel like we’re kind of required to group hug now,” pope added. “everybody up! i love you sickos and psychos, criminal records and all!”

and then, you all hugged the shit out of each other. pogue style.

[leonardcohenofficial]

black sails VIII

(obvious warning for spoilers)

“OH madame guthrie knows she’s fine with it” SJDKLFSDJLFJKL RACKHAM

“please don’t judge me but i really enjoyed that” that is just rackham’s M.O.

silver is too fucking much at all times lmfaoooo

this gates and flint scene mirroring the one in episode I where they talk about both knowing when flint is lying..............

of course everything is happening in the rain LOVE the symbolism

flint’s laugh is the only thing i care about 10/10 would kill to hear him laugh more

rackham and anne are so fucking funny even/especially when they’re pissing each other off

max knows. max sees all. she saw the gay gaze. she is knowing and perceiving the truth and i love her for it

vane rolling up on the boat like he wandered off the game of thrones set

wait what the hell

“that’s how we avoid the abyss”

FLINT

GATES

FLINT

GATES

the repeated “i’m sorry” NOPE NOOOOOOOOOOOPE did NOT expect to tear up at any point this episode

“take it from me; there’s always a way” oh so flint and silver just leveled up their relationship got it

vane you fucking dumbass

dufresne is stepping the FUCK up

eleanor’s “my life is my own” speech vs. vane’s “i know you better” speech

damn vane DID roast rackham and jack uhhhhhhh did NOT look happy about it jsdkfjksldfjlkjskl

NOT SILVER SCREAMING TERRIBLE SPANISH

JESUS H CHRIST

COME ON 

“HAD TO BE DONE” SILVER I WOULD DIE FOR YOU YOU FUCKING DUMBASS

WAIT IS THE WALRUS JUST COMPLETELY SHOT TO SHIT?????????

GO OFF MAX; SHOW UP TO YOUR EX’S HOUSE FACE DONE TITTIES OUT HOTTER THAN SHE’LL EVER BE AND SAY YOUR PIECE

OH SO FLINT AND SILVER ARE GONNA HAVE A MORE PROFOUND BOND?????????? IS THAT WHAT I’M HEARING????????????????

WAIT THAT’S HOW THE EPISODE/SEASON ENDS????????? WHAT

[just-my-sickly-pride]

In the Wings || John Deacon x Reader

summary || your official job, as a queen roadie, was to help backstage during a concert. your unofficial job, as someone who the bassist john deacon had taken a shining to, was to help backstage during a concert in a very particular way.

rating || explicit (18+). do not read if you are under eighteen. oral sex (m receiving), slight degradation kink, pretty much public sex (although there’s no exhibition kink). i guess there would be an age gap, but it’s not really explored or explained.

word count || 4.1k

author’s notes || so i finally was able to watch rock montreal yesterday, for the first time, and i adored it, obviously. through our conversations in the discord, i learnt what actually went on backstage during concerts (would you believe i genuinely had no idea), and i was inspired. some of the details about the concert might be a bit iffy as i just had to go off memory as whatever research i could find. this one goes out to katie @anotheronebitesthedeaks​, who works tirelessly to provide as much deacy content as she can. i hope this one does you proud, katie!

masterlist

     The adrenaline was pumping. Really pumping. If the hammering heartbeats of everyone inside the arena – assistants, roadies, lighting and sound operators, pyrotechnics, performers (yes, especially the performers) – could be converted into power, you could have probably run an entire city.

    Tonight’s concert was being filmed. You didn’t know much about cameras, but you knew it was apparently all very impressive. Really high quality.

    Rehearsals hadn’t gone all that smoothly. It was the nearing the end of the tour, which meant that, fifty percent of the time, Queen were all at each other’s throats, and for the other fifty, they were inseparable. Well, maybe more like sixty-forty. Or seventy-thirty. Maybe seventy-five-twenty-five, considering that they were almost in the midst of putting together another album. Which, if the screaming matches you’d overhead last week were anything to go by, was proving to be a particularly gruelling one.

    But if there was one thing that drew the band members back together in solidarity, it was having a common enemy – tonight’s director and producer, Saul Swimmer.

    Your official job, as a roadie, was to help backstage with anything that the guys might need whenever they left the stage. Water, snacks, new picks or drumsticks, alcohol, a towel, backup guitars, outfit changes. So you heard everything during rehearsals, when they were interrupted time and time again by Swimmer, calling for camera positions to be changed or sound levels to be shifted. He even had the gall to try to tell Freddie where to stand, which Freddie promptly shut down with a swift, I’ll go wherever I fucking want, darling, I’ll sit on Roger’s drums if I feel like it.

    Roger had tried to hide his laugh, but his mic had still been on from before, and it had echoed throughout the arena, which had made Freddie burst into a cackle. Brian had smiled. John had swung around to face away from the other three, his head tilted back, looking ready to murder.

    John had seen you in the wings, and had gestured to you with an impatient hand.

    You’d known what that meant. You’d grabbed the glass of whiskey and ginger ale you’d had ready-made to go, and had hurried out onto the stage to hand it to him.

    It had felt awfully naked to be on stage. Even with no audience members, you’d never felt more exposed. You’d found it hard to breathe, like you hadn’t dare take in any more oxygen than you deserved.

    You had no idea how they did it every night, perform on that stage in front of all those people, for weeks on end. You would’ve given up long ago.

    But you’d waited dutifully while John had taken a few gulps of the drink, your hands nervously balled into fists at your side. He’d barely looked at you, which you’d expected.

    “Oh, he’s getting a drink,” Freddie had said loudly from the front of the stage. “Come on, dear, we’re all waiting for you.”

    John had scowled, shotted the remainder of the drink, grimacing, and then he’d shoved the glass back into your hands, and you’d rushed off stage again while he’d retaken his place.

    You’d taken the glass backstage and had poured another whiskey ginger ale, in case it was needed.

    You’d taken a moment to breathe slowly and deeply a few times, willing your heart rate to slow.

    A fellow roadie had paused to ask, “You all right?”

    You’d nodded. “I’m fine,” you’d said.

    “Did John say something to you?”

    You’d frowned. “What?”

    The roadie had shrugged. Rick, you’d thought his name was. “Just saw you hand a drink out to him. I know he can be a bit of a dick sometimes. I’m sure he’s just pissed off or whatever, he wouldn’t have meant whatever he said.”

    Rick had given you a firm pat on the shoulder, and had left.

    But that hadn’t been the problem at all.

    John Deacon could be a dick sometimes, sure. A complete asshole, if the mood struck him.

    But, Jesus Christ, he was a hot one. And the fact that he clearly didn’t give a shit about you somehow made him even hotter.

-

    You were watching him now, as he moved across the stage. During songs he was always switched on, focused, his eyes often closed as he hopped and bopped to the music. Between songs, his gait switched to almost a lope, his head hanging either forward or back, his chest heaving, his bass hanging loosely across his body.

    He seemed extra fiery tonight, as did everyone else, which was undoubtedly influenced by the cameras. They were performers, after all, and you weren’t surprised that they all played a little harder, a little faster, a little sexier, when they knew that tonight they were being made immortal, eternalised on tape.

    But there was something about John, specifically, more than the other three. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The intensity of every note he played, his gaze on the crowd or on Freddie or on his bass, made your stomach flutter with butterflies. The lighting made his jawline look like it could cut glass, turned his profile into that of a marble statue of a Roman god. His hands looked huge on his guitar, his fingers moving with precision.

    He radiated power. You hoped tonight was one of those nights where you fulfilled your less-than-official roadie job.

    It was an open secret that bands like Queen used whatever spare time they had backstage to get off. John’s favourite time to do so was during Roger’s and Brian’s solos; you were his go-to. You couldn’t believe your ears the first time he’d propositioned you, but you had been more than happy to help.

    It was never more than a backstage blowjob or handjob, though. There was never enough time for an actual fuck – although John had made it clear in the past that, for once, it pissed him off that Brian’s solos weren’t even longer – and he’d never returned the favour.

    You weren’t all that fond of that part. You had to admit that it absolutely turned you on being used and then abandoned, left to catch your breath and clean yourself up while John snatched his bass from someone’s hands and re-entered the stage, but it would have been nice to receive something in return every once in a while. At least a real proper fucking after the show.

    But that was the way of the world, you supposed. And your blowjob skills had grown exponentially since the tour had started. Which you weren’t sure you should have been proud of, but you were.

    “Drum solo’s about to start,” you heard someone say, and your stomach flipped.

    The song drew to a close, and then stage went dark. John and Freddie immediately turned on their heels and ducked into the wings as lights came up on Roger and his solo began.

    Everyone worked quietly and efficiently. You handed a towel and bottle of water to Freddie while someone else took John’s bass at his request. “John,” you said, catching his attention. When his eyes met yours, everything you were about to say left your head completely, and you could have melted into a puddle right then and there.

    But it didn’t matter – as soon as he realised it was you, he said, “There you are,” and grabbed your hand, towing you away from everyone else, heading towards the stairs.

    It took a moment to register, but when it did, your whole body grew hot, as hot as John’s skin against yours. The leftover anger and frustration from earlier in the afternoon, the excitement and rush of performing for the cameras, the exhaustion and desperation that came with being so close to the end of a months-long tour – you could feel every part of it through the grip of John’s hand.

    “Your shirt,” you blurted out, as John pulled to a stop. You were on the first landing of the stairs – far enough from everyone else that there was the semblance of privacy, but not far enough that John would be too far away from the stage.

    It wasn’t really that private at all, though. There were people mere metres away from you, at the top of the stairs. But they knew what was happening, and politely began to shuffle away.

    John was already yanking his jeans open, and he gave you a baffled – and slightly irritated – look. “What?”

    “I was going to ask if you wanted to change your shirt,” you explained. “Before.”

    “No,” John said bluntly, unzipping his fly and shoving his jeans down. “Obviously not.”

    “Right, of course, sorry,” you stammered, and dropped to the floor, sitting on your heels, your hands fumbling against his as you both worked his tight jeans and underwear down just past his ass. He was already slightly hard, and you hastily took him in your hand and swallowed him down.

    He breathed out sharply, his hand slipping into your hair, and you closed your eyes to focus on your job, your tongue sliding around the head of his cock, over the vein on the underside of the shaft, working quickly. You felt him beginning to swell in your mouth, and his body shifted in response. It was impossible to ignore how much it turned you on to feel it, to hear him react to everything you did.

    It didn’t take long at all for him to be fully hard in your mouth – he must have been particularly worked up tonight – and you blew him fast and hard, as fast and hard as he’d been playing on stage. He was big, but you were used to that, and you used your hand to pump whatever your mouth couldn’t reach, every so often reaching down to fondle his balls in your hand, squeezing them a little. Your other hand gripped the back of his thigh, feeling the muscles tense, and it made you desperately want him to fuck you. Fuck you for real, feeling his cock stretch you out, feeling his hands all over your body, his mouth on your clit.

    “Fuck,” he grunted, his hand tight in your hair. You felt his other hand rest on your cheek, and you adjusted to let the head of his cock press against the inside of your cheek whenever you took him in so he could feel it.

    “Open,” he said. “Open your eyes, lemme…”

    You did so, blinking up at him. The look on his face made you want to touch yourself, give yourself some relief from the throbbing arousal coursing through your body. You suckled at his head for a moment before sliding him down into your mouth again, and he moaned, low and deep. His hips bucked forward, making you gag, tears springing into your eyes.

    You knew he liked the sound of you gagging, but you couldn’t do it too many times without starting to genuinely feel sick. You shifted your position, going up onto your knees to change the angle, and took a few steadying breaths before sliding your mouth down onto him, far enough that you gagged, and then drew back again. Saliva filled your mouth, collecting at the corners of your lips.

    “Shit, yes, that’s it, take me all the way in,” John panted. “Gag on my cock, fuck.”

    You moaned around him, and did it again, keeping as much eye contact as you could, and you felt his knees just about buckle.

    You blinked the tears from your eyes, feeling them trickle down your cheeks, and continued sucking him off. You could feel yourself beginning to drool, but you let it happen, knowing that it made you look like a mess but not even caring. You could hear Roger’s solo drawing to a close. You didn’t have much time left, and John couldn’t exactly waltz onto stage with an erection. Especially not tonight.

    You doubled your efforts, the scream of Brian’s guitar spurring you on. You knew John was getting close from how his back shifted against the wall, and he kept letting his head drop back to hit the bricks, his breathing growing heavier and heavier, his other hand gripping his own hair.

    His hand began pushing the back of your head, and you concentrated on breathing through your nose, closing your eyes again, letting him fuck your mouth. Your hand still massaged his balls every now and again, and you gagged a couple more times, making him groan through gritted teeth.

    You opened your eyes again to look at him, and he was watching you, his mouth hanging open. You wanted to kiss him, bite and nip at his lips, suck on them.

    “God, I wanna f– fuck you,” he growled. “Bet your cunt’s just as wet and – ngh – tight as your mouth, shit.” His head fell back against the bricks again, and your stomach clenched.

    Do it, you wanted to say. God, I need you to.

    But instead you just took him in again and again, feeling him twitch in your mouth, and within no time at all he was groaning out, “I’m fucking coming, I’m coming,” and his hips jerked and he spilled into your mouth, his body shaking.

    You swallowed, and drew him into your mouth a few more times, emptying him completely, cleaning him up, and then you were helping him to get stage-ready again with frantic hands, pulling up his underwear and jeans, tucking him in.

    He did up his fly and the button on his jeans, and then he was throwing you a quick, “Cheers,” and bolting up the stairs, leaving you on the floor, your breathing ragged.

    You heard Roger’s drums join Brian’s solo, and you knew John was going to make it on stage just in the nick of time.

    Someone hurried past you, heading down the stairs, and you mumbled out, “Sorry,” shifted out of the way. You kept your head low as you tidied yourself up, wiping your eyes and cheeks dry and making sure there was no come or saliva on your mouth or chin, or on your clothes.

    You were still aching with need, still soaking between your thighs. But that was part of the gig, and you were used to it.

    You cleared your throat and wobbled to your feet. You could feel a couple of eyes on you as you made your way back to your spot in the wings, but most of the crew were used to seeing you looking dishevelled partway through a concert. The familiar coil of embarrassment still burned in your gut, but it was eased somewhat when someone surreptitiously passed you a bottle of water. You nodded in thanks and poured about half of it down your throat.

    John did have a few more exits, but none of them any longer than a few seconds. He barely acknowledged you, apart from summoning a shot of whiskey or vodka. To an outsider, it would have been impossible to know that his dick had been in your mouth less than an hour before. It drove you crazy. Even just being near him muddled your brain.

    Again, all part of the gig. By now, the other roadies expected you to be much less helpful after you had disappeared with John.

    Then came the Bohemian Rhapsody break. The sound cue slid in perfectly, blasting the operatic section while all four band members scrambled off stage. Freddie dropped to the floor and yanked off his shoes, declaring that they were giving him blisters and he was done with the fucking things. You shared an uneasy glance with another roadie, but then John’s hand was wrapping around your elbow and he was towing you away.

    You stumbled, and John let you go. You follow him without another word, hurrying along behind him, baffled. This break was almost exactly only one minute long – you were good, but you weren’t made of magic. Especially not after John had already come tonight.

    “John, what’s going on?” you said. You were somewhere else now, somewhere dark, in a corner. “We don’t have time–”

    John pulled up to a sudden stop, and whirled around, taking you by the shoulders, guiding you against the wall. He kissed you without warning, roughly.

    You and John didn’t kiss much. It really only happened when you were pulling him off, and he preferred your mouth on his cock rather than your hand.

    But you didn’t even hesitate in kissing him back. He kissed you with urgency, one hand tangling in your hair and the other on your hip, drawing a whimper from you. You clutched him around his back. His shirt was damp with sweat, his body running hot, but you didn’t care.

    He drew back enough just to say, “Jeans.”

    You immediately went to unbutton his jeans. But he stopped you with a hand.

    “No,” he said. “Yours.”

    “What?” you said, the word coming out in a squeak. This was completely new.

    “We don’t have much time,” John said quickly, going for your jeans himself.

    But you stopped his hands. “No, wait,” you said.

    “What, don’t you want me to?” John said.

    You stammered, shaking your head, and managed to get out, “Want you to what, John?”

    “Finger you.”

    “W–” You shook your head again. “Well, yes, but–”

    Someone called John’s name, and he sighed in frustration. “Whatever,” he muttered, and went to leave.

    But you grabbed his arm. “Hey.”

    He turned back to you. “What?” he said. “I have to go.”

    “You wanna do something new with me, you ask me first,” you said firmly. “You don’t just assume I want it and go for it. I might get you off every other night, but I’m not your fucktoy.”

    He stared you, as if surprised you’d spoken up like that, but then he said, “You’re right. Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

    You nodded, and let your hand drop from his arm. “That’s all,” you said, crossing your arms. “Go, you’re gonna miss your cue.”

    John took one more moment to drink you in, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he was gone.

    Your hands shook. You couldn’t believe you’d just spoken to him like that. After he’d gone to finger you, which you’d wanted for weeks. What the fuck were you thinking, turning him down? Even just ten seconds would’ve been more than you could’ve hoped for. And you’d shot that gift horse right in the mouth.

    You sighed, and pushed that aside. You were still on the clock.

-

    God Save The Queen began to play, and you watched as Queen took their bows. Roger and Freddie were jumping around together – they’d had a lot of fun tonight, you’d noticed, giggling and pulling faces at each other the entire concert – and Brian and John bowed and waved.

    John was off first, as he usually was, passing his bass over and grabbing a bottle of water. You expected him to head straight to the greenroom, as normal, but instead he just watched Freddie and Roger pass by, the two of them sweating and panting, but grinning, shoving at each other playfully. Brian was last, carefully handing over his Red Special. He was always quiet right after a concert, and he followed his two bandmates to the greenroom without a word.

    As soon as all three of them had passed, John was beside you again. But instead of grabbing you, he said, “Can we go somewhere?”

    You were so stunned you barely knew how to reply. “Uh, y– yeah, course.”

    You followed him downstairs – but instead of heading to the greenroom, you went to his dressing room. You hovered in the centre of the room while he locked the door behind him.

    “I, uh, wanted to apologise properly for earlier,” he said, stilted in his discomfort. He cleared his throat, and gestured towards you vaguely. “You were right. You’ve been, um, very… helpful, these past couple months, and I don’t think I’ve been treating you with the respect you deserve.”

    “Oh, no, it’s fine,” you said with an awkward laugh. “Really, John, you don’t– You already apologised.”

    “No, I…” John put a hand on his hip, his other hand rubbing his jaw. “I’ve been going through a fairly, er, rough time as of late, with the album, and a whole myriad of other things that I won’t go into, but that doesn’t excuse my behaviour. So I’m sorry. And I didn’t realise just how I was, um, behaving, until you stopped me tonight. Which you were absolutely correct to do, and I’m sorry that it had to come to that. Like I said, you were right, you’re a person, not a, um…”

    “A fucktoy,” you supplied in a small voice.

    “A, uh, fucktoy, yes,” John said, glancing away from you. “So. Er. Sorry. About that.” His eyes landed on you, and you watched as his face turned bright red. “I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “This is… extremely embarrassing for me, but I– I can’t even remember…”

    You blinked at him. “Can’t remember what?”

    He gestured a little more, but you were still lost, so he squeezed out, “Your name.”

    “Oh,” you said, your eyes going wide in realisation. “Oh. It’s [Y/N].”

    “[Y/N]. Right. Of course.” John sighed, and nodded to himself. “Right. So. Did you… Was there anything you wanted to say?”

    You hesitated. “Uh, I – don’t think so. I wasn’t really expecting this, so, um…”

    “Right, yeah,” John said.

    There were a few harrowingly painful moments of uncomfortable silence, so you blurted out the first thing that popped into your head.

    “I like sucking you off.”

    Wonderful.

    John’s eyebrows rose. “Uh, good?”

    “Ah, shit,” you sighed. “I– I mean I… I’ve liked all of it. You, um, using me, and ignoring me, and being kind of a dick to me. If I didn’t like it, I would have told you to find someone else ages ago.”

    “You… like me being a dick?” John said.

    You nodded. “It’s– I–”

    “You, what, get off on it?”

    You bit your lip, and nodded again. “I know that’s really weird,” you said in a rush.

    “So would you mind if I…”

    “Continued being a dick to me? Not at all. Actually, this whole conversation is very strange for me.” You shook your head. “I appreciate it, and I appreciate you apologising and all, and I meant what I said earlier about asking me before doing anything we haven’t done before, but please don’t think you have to be really nice to me or whatever from here on.”

    John nodded. “Uh-huh.” You saw some of the tension leak from his shoulders. “Fuck, that actually makes my life a whole lot easier. I’m genuinely glad to hear that.” He laughed a little, relieved.

    “So, um.” You shifted your feet. “You gonna actually finger me now, or what?”

    He laughed again, a bigger laugh. You’d never seen that before. His smile changed his whole face – he looked like a completely different person. “No,” he said, shaking his head. He started backing towards the door. “Wish I could, but no.”

    “No?” you repeated, bewildered. “Isn’t that why we’re in here?”

    John rubbed his jaw again. “Thought about it,” he said. “But it really was just to apologise.”

    “Then why’d you lock the door?”

    “Like I said, I thought about it.”

    “So why don’t you?”

    “I have business to attend to,” he said. “We’re having drinks with someone important, I don’t know. Some kind of party, there’s always a bloody fucking party.” He added the last part in a mutter, rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business. See you tomorrow.”

    He opened the door, and then he was gone, without so much as a glance back.

    Your jaw hit the floor. “Fucking prick,” you whispered to yourself.

    You heard his voice from outside the door, heading back towards you. “Er, actually,” he said, and he poked his head around the corner. “Come by my room later, yeah? In about two hours?”

    You opened and closed your mouth once, then twice. “It– It’ll be after midnight by that time.”

    “I didn’t realise there was a curfew for fucking,” John said. “Or are you happy to just get yourself off alone in your room again, woefully unfulfilled and unsatisfied but left with no other option?”

    You just stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and you had no idea what to say.

    John gave you an exasperated look. “See you in two hours. Don’t bother making yourself look nice, I’m going to ruin you anyway.”

    And he was gone again.

    And then back one more time. He pointed a finger at you, squinting in thought, then said, “[Y/N]…?”

    You nodded.

    He nodded as well, looking chuffed with himself. “[Y/N]. Have to remember that. [Y/N].”

    And he was gone once more.

    He didn’t return.

    You squeezed your thighs together. It was going to be a very long two hours to wait.

[fanfic-corner]

Slow Burn

You ever want to read a fic that is probably as long (or longer) than a book series, but not have the main love interests kiss until chapter 300? Then you probably have some issues, but I'm not a therapist, so here we go.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31,252 words).

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Smut, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time. When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be. But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: One of the first fics I ever read, and one of my faves! The ending was slightly unsatisfying, but not so much that I would drop a star.

Angel's Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Wingfic, Hurt/Comfort, Wing Kink, Slow Build, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars. (If I could give it more, I would).

Description: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I didn’t read all these slow burn fics just so I could rec this. I would also be lying if I said this wasn’t my favourite fic of all time. The pining is so intense it is practically unbearable to read. Honestly, I don’t care if you think it is too long or it isn’t really your thing; I would rec this to anyone with ears. I will still be reccing this in Hell. It is absolutely phenomenal.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin on AO3. (95,274 words).

Tags: Time Travel, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, POV Dean Winchester, Alteration of s10 lore, Homophobic Language, Smut, Pining Dean, Preseries Dean, Mutual Pining.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic.

Notes: An absolutely excellent plot, which is excellently written, and is somehow simultaneously angsty and adorable.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison on AO3. (68,689 words).

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Firefighter Dean, Professor Castiel, Weddings, Misunderstandings, High School AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organisational duties. The more the merrier, right?Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

Notes: Jesus Christ, I have not read a single fic which sums up exactly how stupid Dean and Cas can be sometimes. I loved it.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering on AO3. (74,198 words).

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Human Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved Castiel, Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Depressed Castiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: 16 months ago, Cas became human.12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind. Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

Notes: So cute! All the angst! My favourite trope! (So many exclamation marks!)

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).

Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fanart. My Rating: 5 stars. Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved.  Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more. (This fic is slightly more Sabriel than Destiel, but only by a little).

In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Elsewhere by RhymePhile on AO3. (33,953 words).

Tags: Modern Setting AU, Teenage AU, High Scool AU, Romance, Best Friends, First Love, First Kiss, Slow Build, Minor Violence, Bullying, Homophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Texas, Slow Burn, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, No Sex, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Raised Separately, Mary Winchester Lives, Artist Castiel, Nerd Castiel, Grieving Castiel, Jock Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: It's 1995, and Castiel's high school years are destined to be difficult: home-schooled until eighth grade, he is awkward, shy, and socially inept. The weird kid with the funny name would rather isolate himself and draw in his sketchbook than deal with the constant bullying he faces every day. Things only get worse in his junior year when he excels in home economics class, leading the captain of the baseball team, Alastair, to start taunting him for being gay.Then new student Dean Winchester arrives at Flour Bluff High School, sharing many of Castiel's classes. Castiel has seen his type before -- handsome, athletic, arrogant, and sure to be the most popular kid in school. But Castiel eventually learns that he and Dean have more in common than he thought, and they form an unlikely friendship.

Notes: Pretty cute, and I did enjoy reading it. Not sure why like half the slow burn fics are set in a high school, but hey.

'Star Wars is Overrated' by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Drunk Texting, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...

Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was gonna happen in this fic, something completely different happened. I think I have whiplash (but I love it!).

The Elysium High by EllenOfOz on AO3. (44,768 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse AU, Los Angeles, Dystopia AU, Angels are Dicks, Addict Sam Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Witch Sam Winchester, Detective AU, Confused Castiel, Drugged Sex, Slow Burn, Cyborg Castiel.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In the not-too-distant future, climate change has wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles. When sea levels rose, and the Los Angeles Basin began to flood regularly like many coastal areas around the world, the population of the city moved up, off the ground and into the scrapers. Many years later, the city is divided into three rough zones: the Topzone, where the very wealthy live in the sunlight; the Midzone, where those of the less-well-off population live amid the flying traffic, the smog and their coffee addictions; and the Groundzone, what's left at close to ground level—dim, grimy and occasionally very wet. Sam and Dean Winchester are drug investigators in the LAPD. During a bust, Dean is saved by Castiel, one of the mysterious Angels, the elite fighting unit of the LA City Council. When Castiel insists on taking Dean to Paradise because he says they have work for him, Dean has little choice but to go along. But when a new drug, “Elysium”, hits the scene, people all over the city start dying. The brothers and Castiel must work out where the drug is coming from and stop its spread before it's too late.

Notes: There was nothing wrong about this fic, it just wasn’t really my cup of tea. I found the fic that it reminded me of though; I Know A Place by whelvenwings. It is fairly similar, but in my opinion a tad better.

So there we go: slow burns! And if you’re thinking, ‘Lina, where are all the ridiculously long ones? I want them to have their first kiss 300 chapters in?’ just know that I do not have the patience or the time for that. Mostly the patience. Okay, maybe I avoided them because they make me want to smash my phone. Whatever. Another day, maybe.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 59)

Split

So this chapter’s a little different (it’ll be back to normal next chapter if you don't like it so don't worry). It contains graphic descriptions of violence and injury, mention of sexual assault (none actually takes place, it is only mentioned), lottttsss and lots of conflict and betrayal. But we aren’t seeing it through the eyes of our girl... 

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Jet huffed and grunted beneath me as I urged him forwards at a gallop. The day I'd had was long and full, and all I wanted was to crash land by the campfire, eat some meat and have one of the beers I'd snuck into my satchel. Just lay back underneath the stars and have a warm body come up beside me, the finest company I could imagine. 

I thought about the events of the day, about Eagle Flies, how he'd been captured by the army. How Dutch had somehow had me leaping off a cliff into brutal rapids with nothing but faith, it must've been pure luck that I didn't land on a rock and snap my neck, or hit my head and drown. I remembered Dutch's bullshit about change and gravity, his words seeming flowery and empty, in a way I couldn't believe I hadn't heard before. In my mind I saw Bacchus Bridge collapse over and over, mindless destruction with the wishful purpose of making noise and somehow helping us lot out of here. Dutch's bidding. Nearly got me and Marston killed, flattened by a damn train, though what was new? 

Every day I seemed to find myself at the brink of some other gruesome death. Every day I seemed to be pushing my luck further and further. Soon enough my luck would run out, but I had to do my best. I had someone worth surviving for and goddamn it, I wasn't gonna let something kill me before I'm old and grey with her at my bedside.  

I saw a glow across the river as I approached Brandywine drop. I followed the trail 'round, over the train tracks and across the water where it was shallow enough to pass, and made my way closer to the occupied spot. I assumed that was our camp for the night, and I saw the tent pitched, but no person, and I figured she was inside, sheltered from the wind that was a little stronger that night than normal. 

I dismounted as I got close enough, leaving Jet next to where Rayna was already stood grazing. I gave the big girl a pat on the neck as I passed her, and she huffed and flicked that makeshift cotton tail of hers, braided into the short length from her dock. I spotted a sketchbook laying open on the ground, a half-finished sketch of the Ardennes on the page. 

"Hey sweetheart, it's me," I called out, my footsteps crunching through twigs as I approached the tent, expecting to see a pair of boots poking out, frowning when I saw none. I crouched a little, carefully pulling the flap of the tent back, only for it to be empty. "Sweetheart?" I called louder as I straightened up–

Snap.

I spun around, hand going to my revolver, drawing it.

"Woah, woah, woah, easy now, Mr. Morgan, you might not want to do that," said some smug looking bastard in a suit and a bowler hat, reeked of Pinkerton before he even introduced himself, "we're with the Pinkerton Detective Agency."

"Yeah, no shit," I spat through gritted teeth, eyes darting as four more of the bastards emerged, surrounding me. Every one of them had their sights trained on me. "What've you done with her?"

"Your lady friend? Oh, don't you worry, she's fine. Got a couple of the boys keeping an eye on her as we speak," I didn't like the way his moustache twisted with his smirk and I kept my hand closed around the revolver.

"You think I won't kill every last one of you? I swear to Christ if that lady has a single hair out of place when I find her, I'll string you up by your ball-sack and drag you all the way to Armadillo behind my horse," I spat, knuckles turning white around my gun.

"You won't get the chance to, you're surrounded, Mr. Morgan. Drop the gun or we'll be forced to shoot."

"I get it, you want me. That's fine. You got me," I began, loosening my grip only slightly, lifting both hands up, still not letting the weapon go, "but let the lady go, she ain't done nothing wrong. She's just been tagging along since she fell on hard times."

"Drop the gun," he repeated.

My eyes closed, I thought for a moment. If I let them have me, there was no telling what they'd do to her. I highly doubted they'd let her go, and I didn't trust any of them not to take advantage. I couldn't leave her under their control. I couldn't leave her.

"Okay," I breathed, "I'm gonna put it down," I began to bend my knees, getting low, leaning forwards in a way that shielded most of my torso, and made me as small a target as possible. It would be an absolute miracle if I got out of this without a bullet in me, and I could only hope that they'd miss my head. But I had to give it a shot.

I lowered my hand towards the ground, my eyes fixed on the main agent's face. He was smirking. A flash of rage gave me the push I needed, and I swung my arm up fast, locking onto him, pulling the trigger and catching a glimpse of the cloud of blood replacing his head as I lunged sideways in an attempt to dodge the bullets that instantly began raining down. I grunted as I collided with the ground, chest taking the brunt, but I couldn't stop to catch my breath before scrambling towards the nearest thing I could call cover. A tree was the best I was offered, but I took it, hissing as the outside of my ribs felt as though it'd been kicked by a horse, then began to burn hotter than a branding iron.

"Shit!" I growled, dragging in a sharp breath before pushing myself to twist around the tree – sending further pain flourishing across my chest – to fire at the men while they had to reload. I fired twice in quick succession, ripping a hole in one guy's throat and another in someone else's chest. They both went down with a mix of cries and gargles.

More bullets flew past my head, and I sucked everything in, panting and cursing under my breath as I turned sideways, praying the tree would be thick enough to shield me as they tried to land a shot. With two left, one made a run for me, spraying wildly with his gun like a maniac, allowing me to shoot him through the side of his skull just as a bullet splintered through the treebark right above my head. A puff of air left my lungs and a sound akin to a whimper went with it. My chest throbbed and I tentatively pressed a hand there, it came away smeared with blood. 

It was silent. There was one Pinkerton left, unless there were more hiding in the surrounding areas. I couldn't think of that though; I had to focus on the ones that I knew existed before I worried about anything else. He wasn't shooting though. I didn't know where he was. I carefully peeked around the edge of the tree, catching a glimpse of him before a bullet soared past my head; the bastard was crouched behind a rock, his gun trained on me, just waiting for me to move. 

I sighed and looked up towards the sky. 

"Alright!" I called out, taking a gamble on the assumption that if there really were other Pinkertons around, they'd have shown themselves by then, "I surrender."

"Drop the weapon," he called back.

I held out the gun so he could see, then threw it aside.

"Empty your other holster," he added, and with a sigh I tossed my secondary pistol aside. "Keep your hands up and come out from behind the tree."

"Alright, alright, jus– just promise me you ain't gonna shoot," I pleaded.

"You're worth more alive," he responded, "but no funny business, or I'll plant one right between the eyes."

"Okay. I'm coming out," I said, gingerly stepping out from behind the tree. 

"Come here, stop right here," he ordered, pointed towards a spot on the ground a few steps before him. He emerged from behind the rock as I did as I was told. He crept closer to me, his eyes wide; he looked like a rabbit, all twitchy and nervous. He let go of his repeater with one hand so he could reach for his cuffs, but he still had his finger precariously on the trigger, the butt of the gun balancing against his chest like he'd never held one before. It was clear he was out of his depth, taking me alone.

I took the opportunity as soon as he was close enough to swing my leg up, kicking the gun clean out of his hands. Then I pounced, tackling him to the ground as he shouted out in surprise. He wrestled with me for a while, grunting, landing a punch to the wound at my ribs. I growled in agony but kept my weight on him, quickly regaining my power over him. With a hand clamped over his throat, I slammed my other fist into his face, once, twice, over and over until my face was speckled with his blood and his struggles and cries died down beneath me.

Discarding his limp body, I got up breathlessly and shook out my aching knuckles, quickly marched over to my weapons and picked them up from the ground and re-holstered them. Panting, I looked down at my torso, pulling my shirt out of my jeans, lifting it and ripping open the bullet hole in my union suit to get a look at the damage. A bullet had torn past my side, taking a chunk out of me just beside my ribs, but luckily missing any organs. 

"Jesus," I breathed, inspecting my bloodied hand, unsure of how much was mine and how much was his.

Jet had bolted during the gunfight, so I whistled for him. He came trotting from between some distant trees, Rayna loyally following him. My hand shook as I wiped it on my trousers, and I took unsteady steps towards the horses. I was about to mount, had my foot in the stirrup, when I paused; my body seemed to sag, exhaustion suddenly hitting me out of the blue. I took a moment to steady myself, pressing my forehead against the saddle, gripping my side with my hand. Five seconds of rest was all I allowed myself, breathing deep and catching my breath, then I pulled myself up into the saddle.

But where was I going? 

I swivelled my head, looking around. My mind was blank. I didn't have a fucking clue what to do. Where was she? I had to look for her, right then, but with no idea where to start, no idea how many Pinkertons were guarding her, and with a hole in my side… I was useless. With a sharp sigh, I pulled on Jet's reins, riding him back towards Beaver hollow as fast as he would go.

–

The lather on Jet's coat was the thickest it'd been since running after the Valentine Bank heist, but I arrived at Beaver Hollow in good time, as half the camp was starting to bed down for the night. Charles was on guard duty, and he called out to me when I arrived, demanding I identify myself.

"Charles! It's me, I– I need help," I yelled back, halting Jet a few steps away, clutching my tender side. 

"Arthur! What the hell? Your horse looks like it's– you're hurt," his eyes bugged wide when he stepped closer and saw me better, trained on the blood smeared on my fingers and soaked into my shirt. 

"I'm fine, it's the–"

"You're not fine," he glanced behind me at Rayna who walked to join the other horses, "shit, where is–"

"She's been captured by Pinkertons. They was waiting at our camp when I got there, I killed 'em, was lucky they didn't send too many men, thought I'd co-operate pro'ly, considerin' they have someone important to me," I told him breathlessly, my head dropping down as the pain in my side drained the energy from me. Charles stared at me with wide eyes for a moment, frozen.

"Arthur, get down from the horse, let's look at you," he reanimated, speaking carefully and reaching his hand out.

"What's happening over there?" John's voice carried over to us, and I looked up to see more people noticing my arrival.

"We gotta go, Charles. I need help, I can't save her alone, not with this," I gestured to myself.

"John, go get Susan. Arthur's hurt," Charles turned and called.

"No! There ain't no time. If she's been captured we've gotta go find her before they– they–" I stammered, shaking my head, leaning away from Charles' outstretched hand.

"We'll go as soon as we've done something about that," he pointed to my wound, "you're no good to her bleeding out." 

"Arthur! What are you doing?" Dutch yelled, marching across camp with Micah in tow. I sighed heavily, slid down off of Jet and met Charles' eyes for a moment. 

"It's the Pinkertons. They found our camp and they took… took…" I sighed, frowning to myself. "I don't know how they even knew about her and me."

"I'm sorry?" Dutch frowned as he got closer.

"They knew we were together. They took her so they could capture me but how'd they even know I'd be bothered?" I thought aloud. 

"Arthur," Charles' low, quiet voice sounded as he touched my arm. I lifted my hand away from my wound and helped him pull up my shirt to inspect it. 

"I'm fine, just grazed." 

"Arthur, you haven't exactly been subtle these past weeks, running off with her and camping out together. Someone was bound to see you sooner or later," Dutch called out. I frowned for a moment, dread settling deep in my gut. I pushed it out of my mind for the moment, though.

"Dutch, I need some folks to ride with me, to go find her–"

"Son, you know that's exactly what they want," Dutch tilted his head at me, brows arching sympathetically but even I could see the emptiness behind his eyes, "they're banking on you turning up, with or without a couple others, so they can take you in." 

"No shit, Dutch, I know that's what they want. That don't mean I'm gonna sit back and do nothing!" I raised my voice, and I felt Charles look up at me. He didn't seem too concerned about my injury, and dropped my shirt back down.

"They'll let her go soon enough. They ain't got nothing on her, don't play their game, Arthur," Dutch warned and I stared at him, mouth agape.

"He's right, Morgan. They can't keep her for long, all she's guilty of is knowing us," Micah chirped, widening his arms to gesture to the group. More people crowded 'round, listening in. "Leave her. I'm sure she'll understand," he added, his mouth coming up into a twisted smile.

"Are you serious, Dutch? You're saying I should leave her there in the hope they'll just… let her go in what– a few days? Weeks? When she ain't got no more teeth left to pull or fingers to break? You know they'll do whatever they damn well please to try and get her to talk!" I yelled, taking a brisk step forwards only for Charles to stop me with a hand on my shoulder. He was wise to do that.

"No they won't, she's a woman! They ain't gonna hurt an innocent woman–"

"No, you're right, she's just a woman," I began softly, my voice turning sharper for the next part, "they probably won't rip her teeth out but they might just line up one by one and have their way with her! Come on Dutch, you ain't as naive as that."

"You're catastrophising, just calm down!" Dutch held his hands up to me and glared.

"Yeah, anyway, let the girl have a good time, if that's what happens, then it happens," Micah added, and even Dutch turned to look at him for that one. I wasn't in control of myself when my hand swung up and somehow my gun was in it.

"You test me again, fucker and I'll blow your head clean off, I promise," I yelled at him, my hand shaking where it held the gun trained dead on his face, my finger dangerously tense on the trigger. It would be so fucking easy.

"Calm. Down!" Dutch shouted, his voice breaking with its volume. Charles gingerly touched my arm, pushing it down. I took a deep, shaky breath, not once taking my eyes off of Micah. 

"I'm going to get her, Dutch. Damn what you say, I'm sorry," I muttered, shaking my head. I holstered my gun then turned and climbed back up onto Jet's back.

"I'll come too," Charles said, sticking his fingers in his mouth and whistling for Taima.

"Charles–" Dutch went to protest, only for John to mount up, capturing his attention. "John!"

"I'm coming too," he said, meeting my eyes. "If this was Abigail, I know you'd do the same."

I glanced to where Abigail was listening, expecting some sort of plea for him to stay, but she only smiled softly.

"I'll come," Sadie called out from beside her. "That girl saved my life once, it's fitting I return the favour."

"People! This is your goddamn funeral! Do my warnings only fall on deaf ears?" Dutch growled, his face reddening with rage. He was ignored as Sadie mounted up, and my three companions trotted over to my side. I turned Jet, and we set off up the path immediately, not looking back.

My blood thrummed in my veins and made me feel like I was being boiled, the adrenaline in my system dulling the pain as we galloped away from camp. I lead the group, hearing the thump thump thump of hooves at my side and behind me, like we were moving as one cloud of fury and determination. This felt different to all the times I'd ridden together in a group with Dutch up ahead. I couldn't describe it. 

"They took her from our camp at Brandywine drop," I yelled out to them, "my thinking is we head back there and look around, try and see if we can find some tracks."

"Might be difficult if there's a busy path, but we'll try," Charles replied.

"I can't believe Dutch was just gonna leave her," John started, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Actually, I can. He didn't even wanna help me."

"Exactly, I should've known he wouldn't show the barest of concern," I replied.

"Speaking of concern, you're bleedin' some, Arthur. You sure you're okay?" Sadie questioned. I couldn't think about myself. As injuries went I'd had much worse and come out just fine. It would wait. 

"Ain't that bad, Sadie. I'll be fine. This is more important," I told her. Nobody argued with me. "Thank you, all of you. I can't tell you– this just means a whole lot, you being by my side."

"Any time. You've helped with the things that are important to me in the past, those Bison in The Heartlands? And today with Rains Fall? I thought it was about time someone showed you the same willingness to help," Charles told me, and I nodded.

"You're my brother, Arthur. You know that," John added. "And she's… I guess that makes her my sister, in a way. And it's like Dutch says, never leave love aside," he said with a satirical laugh.

"We can't start leaving people to rot," Sadie called. 

"It's all talk with him. Spoutin' nonsense about loyalty and sticking together, but he don't give a damn when one of us actually needs help. Why he ain't no better than the likes of Cornwall, using people for his own gain, and cutting them off when they stop being of use," I muttered, my jaw clenched tight. All I felt when I thought of Dutch was rage and bitterness. It was a feeling I never thought possible. "If he thought I'd roll over and leave the one person who's ever really seen me–" I stopped suddenly, clamping my mouth shut. 

"We'll get her, Arthur," Sadie assured me.

"I'm done being his fool," I spat.

"You and me, both," John agreed, "how'd they find her anyway?"

"The Pinkertons have been patrolling this whole area," Charles noted. I frowned and shook my head.

"Yeah, but they ain't been nowhere near us. And even if they did, how'd they recognise her?"

"She was at camp when the Pinkertons showed up at Clemens Point," John said, and I released a sigh.

"Sure, but that was two fellers who saw her for a few seconds, just… just seems unlikely, is all," I muttered.

"Whatever the case, Dutch had a point when he said they don't have anything on her. She hasn't got a bounty or any real crime to her name. They really are just using her to bring you in, Arthur. I don't think they're gonna hurt her or punish her," Sadie called, and I tried my hardest to believe her.

We approached Brandywine Drop, dashed across the water and slowed before we reached the camp. We each dismounted and grabbed our weapons, on high alert in case more men had been sent. When we arrived the fire was dwindling, just faintly glowing embers. Everything else was untouched; the tent was still there, the five bodies still remained, cold and bloody. Her sketchbook still laid open on the ground; I picked it up, carefully closing it and sliding it into my satchel next to my own journal while the others looked around.

"Which way did you ride in?" Charles asked, inspecting something on the ground by lantern light. I approached him. 

"I came in the same way as we did, left that way too," I told him, squinting at the ground in the poor light.

"I think there's some tracks here. Looks like a couple of horses," he told me.

"That'll probably be them, then, come on. It's the best we got," I said, waving my hand to Sadie and John. We all walked back and mounted up again, though Charles stayed on foot. Taima followed the group as we slowly made our way away from camp, heading West, parallel to the train tracks.

"I don't think it leads to the main path," Charles said, pointing to the trail that ran some distance away from the railway, "looks like it's following the line," he looked back down at the tracks.

"Walking along the train tracks? Where're they heading?" John queried roughly. 

"Wherever it is, they weren't in a hurry. These tracks don't look like they were galloping. Maybe they didn't have far to go," Charles wondered.

"Maybe they wanted to be easy to find," Sadie pointed out, and I glanced at her. She was right. "How many men d'you think they'll have waiting for us?"

"I don't know. They had five at our camp, they were expecting to take me from there, I reckon. There can't be that many with her if they only had five waiting for me," I guessed, and Charles made a quiet humming sound.

"Here's hoping," he said.  

We were following the tracks for barely two minutes before we came upon a small shack with light glowing from between the decrepit wooden planks barely holding the thing together. Four horses stood outside, gathered like a small little herd, grazing. All of us stopped.

"That's the old trading post," Sadie said. 

My heart began to race, the blood flow making my side ache and throb, dampening my shirt more. I pressed my hand against it firmly and clamped my lips together, releasing a shaky breath from my nose. I tried to pull myself together, reminding myself that I'd had far worse.

"I bet they're keeping her there," I said.

"Looks like it's where the tracks lead. Not too many men," Charles mused and John let out a sharp exhale of a laugh.

"Ain't too smart, are they? They think they can take you in with just a handful of men?"

"They're expecting me to be alone. And distracted," I offered, "maybe they didn't think it'd require that many. So they put, what– ten men on the job?"

"Ten against one. That should've been enough," Charles snorted. "So how're we doing this?

With my eyes on the trading post, my ears strained to make out any sound. I could just hear distant voices, but by the tone they appeared to be all male.

"Alright, there's one way in, but plenty of windows and holes in the walls," I began as the others looked to me for guidance, "I suggest that I go in first, unarmed, and see what kinda situation they have her in. We don't wanna go in all guns blazing in case they– I don't know," I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on any possibilities. 

"Okay, and the rest of us?" Sadie nodded.

"If you surround the building, take cover by whatever openings into the building you can, then you can cover me if anything happens. I do plan on shooting every last one of 'em, but only if I know she's safe," I explained, and each of them nodded. "I'll… I'll try to get her out of there somehow. Only start shooting once she's out of the way."

"And if you can't manage to get her out of there?" John asked. I looked at him, blinking.

"Then you better aim real damn carefully, Marston," I deadpanned.

There was a beat of silence.

"Alright, are we ready?" Charles breathed. Each of us nodded.

"Ready," I said.