#Slack Radio

[mrbopst]

Good News: Bopst Show, the only music variety radio show that guarantees to get you up by putting you to bed, airs Monday-Friday, 4-5 AM & PM (EST-USA) on Slack Radio. Listen online: slackradio.org. Available anytime: chrisbopst.podomatic.com or wherever you get your podcasts.

[xenofact]

Learn from "Bob"

"Bob" doesn't teach, but you can learn from him.

"Bob" doesn't instruct, but he is instructive.

"Bob" is the teacher in the classroom of life who doesn't have to say a word.

Are you going to trust him or some Pink teacher?

For a great educational experience, send money to https://www.subgenius.com/

After that go to: https://www.patreon.com/dobbstown https://www.vaultofslack.com/ https://askdrhalshow.com/ https://slackradio.shop/

[flowerakatsuka]

WELP LOOKS LIKE WE'RE FINALLY GETTING SEASON FOUR 😭🎉✨️

[radioroxx]

sifdile tag so sad and empty where all the poasts

[myost]

[now-playing] - ost - various artists - reveille with beverly & jam session - 1943 / 1944

[aeolianblues]

Laughing at the state of this. This is how we get through work huh. (For anyone offended, I don’t use Firefox for work, all the ‘confidential’ stuff and internal sites are away on Chrome and you aren’t seeing them.)

We’re googling, writing bad articles for my music mag, YouTubing, radio, making gifs and listening to Apple Music (Spotify’s blocked on the work laptop). As life should be I suppose

[dullahandyke]

You guys arent gonna believe this but doing stretches actuslly helps when your body is fucked up. Wowwww my knee is soooo fixed (its wicked not but it's like 90% better)

[mrbopst]

Good News: The Bopst Show, the only radio show that gives better than you get, airs weekdays, Monday-Friday, 4-5PM (EST-USA, on Slack Radio. Listen online: slackradio.org. And for anytime and anywhere free listening, the Bopst Show gives meaning to your otherwise meaningless life at: chrisbopst.podomatic.com

[xenofact]

LET "BOB" WATCH

"Bob" is a surprise. "Bob" is watching. "Bob" likes to watch. Having "Bob" watch isn't a kink, it's THE kink.

But you want "Bob" to watch. If he sees you, who knows what blessings will come? Better he watches than not!

Pay money to "Bob" to draw his eye to you at https://www.SubGenius.com/

You can also get more SubGenius stuff at

https://askdrhalshow.com/

https://www.vaultofslack.com/

https://www.patreon.com/dobbstown

https://slackradio.shop/

[radioproto]

Step one of making Callie’s cosplay is complete.

Armor pads: painted

[plainclothesdisaster]

Danny’s on the Suicide Squad. He’s the defacto team moral compass and ray of sunshine. He plays the role of the camp counselor that keeps everyone in line. He’s not afraid of working with even the gnarliest of baddies.

Everybody on the team wonders how he ended up locked up with the villains- he never talks about what he did to end up behind bars no matter how much they pester him. Then one day they’re out on a mission and Harley or somebody is caught and tortured. Danny snaps. It’s the opposite of brutal- he takes down everyone in the room with clinical, dispassionate efficiency.

After it’s over and the team is safe he comes back to himself and is almost sheepish. He radios Belle Reve.

“Whoops. Add another couple notches on my power dampener collar, would you Waller?”

“Can’t, it’s already at max.”

“Ah. Well. I’ll have a look at strengthening it when we’re back then.”

The team just stared at him slack jawed. Good thing he’s on their side.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

[teaboot]

Acab applies to security guards too.

Okay, so there's two basic kinds of security: public and private

Public security is for government employees like police

Private security is stuff like security guards, bodyguards, and bouncers

As a security guard, you need to pass different licensing exams for different privileges. Someone who might handcuff people needs a license to carry handcuffs- someone who might need to carry a weapon needs a license for that weapon.

I passed my BST exam something like five years ago and stopped there, so I am allowed to carry: A radio

And as private security, again, there are two basic kinds: in-house and contract

Contract security means a company or a person or a location like a park can pay my boss' boss money to send powerless scarecrows in uniforms to walk around and provide what is called "visible presence"

which is, essentially, a life-size cardboard cutout of a guy wearing the classic Spirit Halloween costume, "Black Slacks Law Professional" in size L

So if the entire chain of authority, from a toddler at the mall food court all the way up to whoever happens to have access to the majority of the planet's nukes at this time, you should know that someone like me currently ranks somewhere very slightly above Janitor, but still definitely below Cinnabon Assistant Manager

Which means that if I chose to go rogue and use my powers for evil TOMORROW, I would maybe manage to punch a Cinnabon employee and shoplift half a dozen chocolate bars from the gift shop before I am fired and in jail being sued off my ass with my licenses revoked for life, unable to leave the country or apply for a job at Walmart with my new shiny criminal record

Security guards and mall cops ain't police. We're dressed like police so you don't try and do something illegal in the area, but the vast majority of us can't actually do anything.

Calm down

[adyophene]

Radiotrio day 6: Roleswap!

Alastor - Charlie

Husk - Vaggie

Niffty - Angeldust

Deets under cut!

"Alastor":

Alastor is actually Cain going under a pseudonym. He's trying to redeem sinners not out of the goodness of his heart, but as a fuck you towards Adam, his estranged deadbeat Father. He vaguely believes redemption is possible, but on the outside he gives off the vibe of thinking its nonsense. Eve, who is in hell, is the one payrolling the whole thing. As the first Sinner in hell she holds a bit of power. (Eve - Lucifer swap)

Al exclusively advertises the Hotel through radio commercials and jingles and doesn't really care that it is probably is why no one knows about it.

"Husk":

A fallen angel who always fucked off and drank and gambled during exterminations instead of killing sinners. When he caught his wings were chopped off and he was left for dead. Alastor found him and offered him a deal. Al would keep Husk's identity secret so long as Husk worked for him. Husk tried to refuse and goad Al into finishing him off, but was instead lured into a bet. He lost and became Al's right hand cat.

Husk doesn't believe in redemption at all. He is trapped in Heaven's mindset that once you fucked up you're done forever. He puts up with Al's antics with a heavy amount of booze.

Niffty:

Hell's favorite killing machine. Niffty is a weapons spokesperson working for Carmilla. She's recorded by a camera crew when she goes out to kill his rivals and its all pitched as a fun and brutal reality show with a star who revels in the thrill of the hunt. Niffty loves her craft and is extremely skilled, but is becoming burnt out. She suffers from an addiction to amphetamines to keep up her 'high energy camera persona'. (When exhausted she just ends up freezing out and staring into the camera ala the gag in the show.)

Niffty is ambivalent about redemption, but likes to stay at the hotel cause she likes Al and Husk, and because it gives her a break from work.

Charlie: A former human who made a deal with Lucifer so she could come down to hell and try to help the undeserving sinners there. She is absolutely ecstatic about the hotel and is all but overbearing in trying to help Alastor achieve his goal.

Vaggie: A sinner who went to hell for her 'extremely violent tendencies', despite the fact that all her actions were in the protection of herself and family/home. Charlie found her in the aftermath of a territory dispute, and after helping her/hearing about her backstory, all but glued Vaggie to her side. Vaggie doesn't believe in redemption, due to her guilt/shame over her violent past, but is dragged along by Charlie.

Angeldust:

Charlie's mysterious and excitable friend. Angel loves a good 'naughty boy' and doesn't so much as clean, but rather struts about posing in whatever meido costume he likes for the day. Charlie knows his past and is the reason he works at the hotel. She thinks he is a good candidate for redemption. Angel doesn't really care either way and is just happy for a shit easy job that he can dress up cute for and slack off all he likes!

I don't know when, but I might come back to this roleswap idea in the future and expand out other swaps!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

more gentlemen thoughts 🫧❄️

gentleman! katsuki, who cooks for you. who acts annoyed when he does it, but who’s heart feels warm when he sees you enjoy it. who insists you lay your head on his chest, his shoulder or his muscular biceps, loving the way your body goes slack with tiredness when you’re against him. who facetimes you every night and makes sure you’re not paused so he can see your face. who tells you he loves you right before drifting off.

gentleman! shouto, who enjoys reading to you. who shares with you little excerpts of poetry and stories that make him think of you. who was never really a fan of love songs of matching accessories until he fell in love with you. who randomly texts you photos of things that make him think of you. who holds your hair back when your sick or drunk. who takes your hand and twirls you around so he can admire how beautiful you are.

gentleman! izuku, who is a sucker for back hugs. who presses kisses all over your neck and underneath your ear, whispering you a good morning and staying glued there. who feels comfortable enough with you to ramble on about what he loves, getting flustered when he realizes how much of a nerd he’s sounding like. who kisses your scars or your birthmarks. who loves to show you off, whether its to his friends, family, students, or anyone he knows. who’s loved ones know about you merely because of how often he brings you up.

gentleman! eijiro, who loves to pick you up, whether thats princess style or throwing you over his shoulder. who is a mountain of a man, but is so gentle and so clingy towards you. who always sends you selfies of him pre and post workout, oblivious to the pink it paints on your face. who loves long drives with you, your feet on the dashboard while you both sing along to whatever’s on the radio. who turns it up when he knows its a song you love. who is such a good driver its actually sexy.

gentleman! denki, who knows your coffee order better than you do. who will pull all-nighters with you, staying up and making sure you’re not alone. who loves to tickle you and acts like a baby when you tickle him back. who likes carrying you on his back and shoulders, doing dumb shit together. who lets you sit between his legs while he plays video games on the floor. who makes you his profile picture on instagram, and who makes his gamertag your birthday. who is really good with younger cousins and siblings, it makes your heart flutter.

gentleman! hitoshi, who wears your scrunchies, your hoodies and your big t shirts when he misses you. whose clothes are mostly at your house, in your bedroom on your bed. who won’t even think about going to sleep until your comfortable, and even then likes to watch you to ease his own anxieties. who is really good with validating your emotions, easing your worries and comforting you through sadness, since he’s had so much himself. who has the deepest voice when he’s tired, dragging out his y’s when he’s talking to you. who loves to lazily kiss you good morning and goodnight.

[loserboysandlithium]

Best friend Eddie will always be one of my favorite things. He’s such a dick, teasing you constantly. Doing the dumbest shit to piss you off. You fight about everything. Who picks the station on the radio, where to eat, who’s better at this or that.

He’s always picking on you and talking shit about any guy you’re seeing. Going on and on about their hair or how they walk, the smallest things about them just pissing him off.

But it’s because he wants you. He always has. And then one day he can’t help himself. You’re in the middle of some dumb argument, shouting back and forth when he pulls over and slams his lips to yours. And then it was over.

18+ below hoes

You’re grinding on his cock in the front seat of his van, practically clawing at each other, not seeming to be able to get close enough. “H-Holy shit… fuck, baby.” Eddie groans as you spread your knees, allowing him as deep as possible.

The nickname makes your pussy even more wet as you slow down, rolling your hips with precision, feeling his thick cock stretch you out. “Why haven’t we done this before? Pretty stupid of us.” you laugh breathlessly, feeling so fucking full, fuller than ever before.

Eddie grins widely, his dimples popping, as he gives your ass a hard slap. “Mmm, fuck. I agree… stupid. That was stupid of us.” his little chuckle turns into a low moan as you begin to bounce.

“Shit.. just like that. Just like that, baby.” Eddie murmurs as his head falls back against the seat. His cheeks are flushed, sweat sticking to his forehead from the summer heat and the shitty air conditioning in his van.

You bring your hands to back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin as you rotate your hips, slow circles on his cock, your pussy being stretched in the most delicious way.

“You’re. So. Fucking. Hot..” Eddie stammers, his eyes falling lower, watching carefully as you lift up revealing his cock covered in your slick before you sink back down. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy, so fuckin wet..”

Praises continue to pour from his lips as you start riding him faster, slamming yourself onto him, feeling him deep inside your stomach. You couldn’t stop the filthy moans escaping as you came down harder and harder on his lap. The lewd sound of your soaked pussy ringing loud in the confined space.

“E-Eddie, I’m so close..” you whimper, your thighs shaking slightly as you struggle to focus on your movements.

His hands are quick to grab your hips, his ringed fingers digging into your skin roughly as he lifts his hips, thrusting up into you. “Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, fuck!” you almost shout as he drives into your pussy at an insane pace.

“Come on, sweet girl. Want it all. Give me all your cum, baby.” he encourages, bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bud. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his once more, his kiss swallowing your cry as your pussy spasms around his cock, your cum soaking him completely.

You can feel his thrusts becoming more and more uneven as he fucks into your drenched pussy, every thrust making your legs shake even more. “Cum inside me, Eddie. Please.” you beg against his lips, making his eyes roll. His hips buck up a few more times before his jaw falls slack and you feel his warm cum fill you up.

“Holy shit.” Eddie pants, resting his forehead against yours. You both sit there for a moment catching your breath.

“So does this mean I can pick the station?” you pout up at him, your chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“Fuck no.” he scoffs, shooting you a wink before reaching behind you to turn the volume back up, Ozzy blaring through the speakers.