#imagine if they hadn't been interrupted though

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

+Bonus

[vexic929]

mentor mentiroso

Chapter 2

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: link

Hartley stared at the closed door where Cisco had disappeared, flanked by security, and while satisfaction bloomed in his chest, it mixed with something dangerously close to guilt. For weeks he'd held his tongue, his composure, played his part, bid his time as the man-child's enthusiasm and audaciousness wore on his patience. And now, with him gone, the lab was quieter, their team smaller, but the lab felt more...his. And he'd been right, Harrison had said so himself, Ramon was a liability. Still, that damned guilty conscience of his...

"Indulging in a bit of schadenfreude, Hartley?" Harrison asked, settling into the chair across from him.

"I didn't think you'd fire him-" Hartley started to explain as he set up the chess board between them but Harrison interrupted him.

"Didn't you?" Harrison's tone held a subtle challenge. "Don't apologize for achieving exactly what you wanted, Hartley. It's unbecoming."

Hartley bit back a smile, focusing on setting the white pieces up in front of Harrison. Dr. Snow was irritated with him for the firing - she and Ramon had become fast friends for reasons beyond Hartley's understanding - but Harrison, at least, didn't seem bothered. Good, that meant Harrison didn't know the full extent of his participation.

He wasn't foolish enough to think that Harrison was entirely oblivious to his part in Ramon's downfall. No, Harrison knew, or at least, he suspected. It was, after all, Hartley that he had allegedly tried to sabotage - he wasn't stupid, Ramon wasn't manipulative enough to try and sabotage anyone, and it was Hartley's calculations he'd looked over before disappearing downstairs. Hartley knew exactly what he'd been doing down there.

"You two seemed to be getting close," Hartley commented as though it hadn't driven him insane. "I almost thought you were friends."

"There was never any risk of friendship between us," Harrison replied easily, reaching for a piece and setting the game into motion. "Not unless you're redefining the term."

Hartley's mouth twitched upward into an amused smirk. That was one of the things he'd come to appreciate, even admire, about Harrison - he never felt the need to soften the truth, to bury it beneath niceties.

"Nomen amicitiae sic, quatenus expedit, haeret." Hartley countered as he studied the board.

For a moment, silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft click of chess pieces. Harrison's gaze, however, lingered a little too long on Hartley's face, as if sifting through layers of veneer to find the truth beneath.

"I’m impressed," Harrison finally murmured, his voice low. "You've grown into quite the strategist."

Hartley allowed himself a small, smug smile. "Thank you, but I'm simply following your example. After all, I am nothing if not observant."

Harrison's lips tilted upward in a smirk, one that Hartley couldn't decide was genuine approval or something far more foreboding. "Would that we all had your diligence, Hartley."

Hartley glanced through the glass windows at the team across the hall, considering his next move. Harrison knew, so that meant he knew of the anomaly too. Hartley didn't have to inform him of that and he assumed, prideful though he was, that Harrison would deal with it privately.

Months later, he wished he hadn't.

Hartley hadn't expected this. He'd thought- he'd trusted Harrison to fix it before- trusted that the anomaly he'd spotted had been caught in time. That had been the whole point of setting Ramon up - or, most of it, anyway. If Harrison had seen it as an excuse to fire him, so be it, at least he knew. Hartley had never imagined Harrison would simply ignore the warning.

Harrison had never intended to stop this.

The anxiety pressed on his temples. As the minutes stretched and the readings edged far past dangerous territory, his own confidence wavered. Watching the door shut behind Ronnie, Hartley felt a pang - maybe even something like guilt.

"Just shut it down, Raymond," he muttered under his breath, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

Harrison wasn't the kind to make mistakes. He was calculating, sometimes ruthless, but never careless - never this careless. The disbelief burned in his chest like acid.

He didn't have time to dwell. The lights flickered and a deep tremor shuddered through the floor beneath him. And then the world exploded.

The next thing Hartley was conscious of was blinding pain holding his entire head in a vice; piercing through his ears, and what sounded like syncopated gunshots - sharp, crackling bursts that sent fresh waves of pain through his throbbing skull. He pressed his face into the grit-coated floor, gripping the sides of his head as he tried to orient himself. His glasses were broken on the floor in front of him but it didn't matter, he could hardly see for pain, smoke, and debris anyway. The worst had happened. He needed to get up. He had to get out. There was nothing he could do now.

He couldn't make himself move.

Hartley took a shaky breath and then another before finally managing to lift a hand, fingers brushing the smooth wall - nearly hot enough to the touch to burn him, grounding himself in the painful reality he so desperately wanted to avoid. This had been intentional, and Hartley was a goddamn coward.

Somewhere close, the crackling grew louder along with a relentless, high-pitched whine - A5 or maybe A6 he thought dimly. Each step was a battle against his own body, against the spinning and roaring that drowned his senses. Distantly, he was aware of people shouting, Caitlin's frantic voice mingling with another but he could barely hear it over the cacophony. He tried to stand straight and a wave of pain and nausea hit him so violently his shoulder slammed against the wall as he nearly collapsed.

"Over here!"

An unfamiliar voice broke through, far too loud, and Hartley groaned, slumping down the wall. The ringing in his ears grew worse, drowning out every coherent thought with a blinding screech, no longer a recognizable note. All he could think of, amidst the noise, was that Harrison hadn't even tried to fix it.

The moment fire and rescue found him, Hartley lost consciousness.

-----

translation:

Nomen amicitiae sic, quatenus expedit, haeret - the name of friendship lasts just so long as it is profitable

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni Enemies to lovers with some massage therapist Bucky. Breeding kinnk, aftercare, Bucky is a secret softie, all that.

Imagine Rival Biker Bucky x f reader. A smutty, slutty little concept while I add the finishing touches to another fic, just getting this out of my system first. I just love the idea of a sexy, bad boy Bucky getting his hands on the one girl who won't give him a second glance because she's too good for him and they're from opposite worlds. Since childhood. Now he's a biker. Covered in black ink. He works in an auto shop. Owns the bar that brings in chaos. He's smoke, whiskey and leather.

She, however, is soft, pretty, smart and does not have the time to entertain someone like him. She has her degree. Working on a second. She has a career. She does not associate with the likes of him, not as the police chiefs daughter. She'll be damned if she has to even breathe the same air, especially when his gang is the cause for half the problems in the town that her father has been trying to get rid of.

Now, imagine that hours of working on her notes and papers leave her with unbearable knots and kninks in her back. She doesn't want to take a break but the pain only gets worse as the week goes by. It doesn't take long for her to shoot her regular massage therapist a message to book the very first available appointment.

-

You unclasped your bra, folding and setting it off to the side while waiting for Wanda in the warmly lit room. You could have sworn she was a witch with the way she made pain disappear; she’d also become a good friend after your many visits.

The knock at the door interrupted you as you slid your shorts off, leaving you in your panties, not rushing to jump onto the table considering it was just Wanda anyway.

“Come in!” You smiled, making your way to the massage bed as the door clicked open- “Oh my God!!” You nearly shrieked seeing Bucky walk in, a shit eating from spreading across his face as you scrambled to grab the tiny towel to cover yourself though it was a futile attempt. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

"You have an appointment, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow as if it was clear as day why he was there.

"Yeah, with Wanda, why are you here, did you get lost on the way to jail?" Your face scrunched in a mix of confusion and disgust ignoring the roll of his eyes while you snatched your shirt to better cover up.

"Well Wanda couldn't make it in but she sent me" He said with a shrug, sighing when he saw your less than impressed face, "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just training under her as part of my physiotherapy internship"

"I'm sorry, you're trying to tell me you of all people are learning how to give massages? Please"

"Physiotherapy" Bucky corrected, "You're not the only one who has a degree, princess" Bucky watched as you groaned realizing you hadn't put your bra on, opting to stuff it in your bag instead of putting it back on in front of him.

"You are NOT laying a finger on me-ow!" You hissed, feeling the knot in your back tug at the rest of your muscles.

"You're not gonna be able to do a whole lot with that much pain" Bucky smirked, only half joking. He wasn't wrong. The pain was worse than before and you needed this an you really didn't have the time to reschedule.

"Fine" You mumbled, turning away from him so you could take your shirt off again, glaring at him when you noticed he hadn't turned away. "Could you at least give me some privacy instead of lurking in the corner like a pervert"

"Whatever you want, princess" He bit his lip as he faced the wall, hearing your feet pad across the tile to lay down on the massage table.

"Alright" You huffed after covering your lower body with the towel, now laying face down, immediately second guessing yourself as he walked over.

"Let me know if anything's uncomfortable or if you want me to stop" His voice was no longer snarky; in fact he sounded professional. "Where do you feel the most tension?"

"Um-shoulders and-lower back" You mumbled out the last bit, he was going to massage you there anyway so there so no pointed hiding it. You tensed at the feeling of his oiled fingers starting to work at your muscles, he had no right to be that good. At all.

“Shit” you hissed trying to keep your voice down, ignoring the clench of your stomach feeling his rough fingers press down on the areas that were tight. Little did you know Bucky was struggling far more than you were.

It went against every bit of professionalism he had. Every moan you tried to silence went right to his cock, his hands making their way lower before trailing up again. Fuck, you sounded so pretty...

"Better stop making those sounds"

"Or what" You challenged back before you could even stop yourself.

"Princess..."

"Your attitude is what needs fixing" Bucky growled, professionalism be damned, "fuck this"

-

You have no idea how you ended up here. It didn't matter though, not when there wasn't a single cohesive thought in your brain as you wailed letting Bucky absolutely rail you. Your back didn't feel an ounce of pain as he took you on all fours, pulling your hips to slam back against him, gripping your ass with enough strength to leave you sore.

"Feel better now huh baby, not trying to stay quiet anymore, are ya" He let out a low chuckle which melted into a groan feeling you tighten on his dick, "Such a good little princess like you letting me put my dick in you, dirty girl"

You hate to admit it but the clench of your cunt betrays how much you love this. It was so wrong. You had no business fucking someone like him and yet where you were letting his precum paint all over the inside of your walls.

"What would your daddy say princess, if he knew where you were right now, what you were doin'? Thinking you're studying when you're actually all pretty and naked, letting me rub that gorgeous body up and down, bet you'd let me put my cum in you too, huh? Bet your dad would love that, his perfect little girl all knocked up with some bikers baby"

You could have said no, stayed silence, just about anything but nope. You screamed feeling his fingers reach around the massage your clit, your orgasm wasting no time hurling towards you.

"Ja-Ja-JAMESSS"

"MMMPHH I love the sound of that baby, could get used to hearing you sayin' my name, say it again princess, say my name with my cock in you, c'mon, that's it"

"Fuck-James-I-James" You were a mess and loving every bit of it, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, all the pent up stress you were feeling finally releasing. You felt your throat tighten, a sob escaping your lips as you let go, your arousal making a creamy mess on the dark curly hair on the base of his cock.

"God, you're milkin me, you want my cum that bad huh baby, want a little biker baby in that tummy of yours, I'll give it to you, give you so much I might even put twins in there-FUCKK"

-

"Shhhh" Bucky cooed, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel while cuddling up your limp body, wiping away any remnants of tears while you stayed floating in a subby, post sex haze. "I got you, you did so good princess" You only manage to let out a weak whimper, giving into his warm, thick arms that rock you.

"You alright angel?"

"Mph" you mumble against his chest and he reaches over for a glass of water that's nearby, bringing it up for you to take a sip. You're surprised at how sweet he's being, drinking up before snuggling into him again. Damn him for being so warm and comfy.

"Y'know, there might be a little Bucky in there" He whispers with a playful smirk in his voice, fingers tickling your lower belly, chuckling when you narrow your eyes at him.

"You wish" You sass back, ignoring the butterflies you feel.

"I do" He admits, biting his lip, his previous cocky demeanor replaced with a shy one, though he tries to mask it. Poorly. His cheeks are pinker than the time you threw paint on him for pulling your pigtails. When you were both 4. "I'd want Bucky jr. to have your brains though"

Imagine that incident sets off a very interesting chain of events. A confession of feelings. You both couldn't be happier, meanwhile your father is grumbling about how he knew this fuckin' day would come, God damn it.

"I never liked that boy" He struggles to keep a scowl on his face watching you giggle like you were 4 again, running to the door as soon as you hear the rumble of his bike.

"Shut up, you love him" Your mom chides, watching Bucky swoop you up for a loving kiss, heading you a bouquet of yellow flowers as he always does.

-

"I still don't like 'em" Your dad says while you roll your eyes, your arm linked with his as he walks you down the aisle.

"Is that why all the files you had to build a case against him all suddenly went missing?" You tease and your dad shugs.

"Wasn't me"

-

just an idea.

[sukunasteeth]

Marks

Sukuna doesn't understand the hold you have on him.

He's never particularly been a people person. In fact, people annoyed him. This has held true ever since he was a child with his twin brother, Yuji. That is, until Yuji brought you home one fateful day in middle school, claiming to have met a new friend. 

You, with your sweet little smile, and your boundlessly generous heart. You with your giggle that chimes through his darkened soul like a golden bell. With the innocent rosy lips that he'd dreamed of having his first kiss with until high school, when it finally came to fruition. You had been irrevocably his ever since then, and it had been almost seven years.

So why does it still feel like you're the one with all the power here?

Why does it feel like you could create a monster out of him if you truly wanted to? Why does it feel like he's constantly at your beck and call? Why are you the one person on this green earth that reduces him to the feeling of an emotion as pathetic as helplessness?

"'Kuna...hurts..."

He'll admit, he takes it out on you.

Like now, when you're lying naked beneath him (his favorite spot to have you in) and begging him to take it easy on you. He's got you covered in sweat, exerting you to your ultimate limit. He loved to see you train until failure, after all. Adored the way your legs quivered when he relentlessly made you keep riding him, despite your exhaustion. Cooed at the way you begged him to be gentle, even though he knows you prefer it rough. You were quick to submit when he had you behind closed doors, despite how independent you appeared outside of them. Sukuna knew you better. Knew how much you loved following his direction. Receiving his praise.

You were lucky you were such a good girl.

Sukuna was torturing you now already, and you hadn't even disobeyed him. He can't imagine what he would do if you were unruly. Actually, he can. And the thought has him salivating even more as he sucks relentlessly at the nape of your neck. You're covered in marks from his teeth or the raw scrape of his tongue. Your throat has been tormented by his worship to the extent that he's even broken skin in the spots where he can feel your pulse beneath his lips.

Even Sukuna has to admit that you didn't deserve this abuse. You hadn't done a thing out of line, besides selfishly tearing the heart out of his chest for good. It was yours now.

The thought makes him growl against you.

God, you weren't even trying.

Your victory over him was so effortless.

It pissed him off.

He doesn't realize that he's bitten you particularly hard until you're suddenly recoiling away, burrowing yourself into his pillows with a small yelp. Your hand has sprung up to press your palm over Sukuna's mouth in some weak attempt at getting him to stop. Your other hand holds your throat as you purse your lips at him, which have also seen a good amount of Sukuna's biting that day.

You looked good in his teeth marks, what can he say?

"Are you mad or something?" You're blinking up at him like a confused little deer. Sukuna can't help that it makes him hungry. You were a perfect prey to him and he would be chasing you to the end of this lifetime. He could tell solely in the way that your stupid little nickname for him makes his heartstrings snap.

He takes a frustrated breath through his nose over your hand, nipping at your fingers over his mouth like a muzzled dog. Before you can pull them away, he's grasping your wrist tightly, his unforgiving grip a warning in itself. Easily, he pins it to the side of your head, rendering you halfway useless.

"Don't interrupt." He murmurs, his gaze burning into yours.

A helpless sob escapes you, but otherwise you stop trying to squirm away from him. You allow the onslaught to continue without a peep, bracing yourself each and every time a new hickey is being bruised into your skin. He doesn't offer you any words in terms of praise, but his grip on your wrist eventually loosens a bit. He never fully lets you go, though.

While he appreciates your cooperation, you eventually go almost too quiet and Sukuna thinks for a moment that maybe he's pushed you too far. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, finding your pink little face screwed up in an intense mixture of pleasure and agony. He feels a content smile spread across his face but it's cut short when his eyes hone in on your lips, which you're currently biting hard enough to draw blood from.

His free hand reaches up and grasps your chin, pressing his thumb below your bottom lip and forcing you to relinquish it. You blink slowly, your logical brain having exhausted itself up until this point. You easily let him pry your teeth apart, panting in his grasp. 

"Mouth. Open." He commands.

You squirm in your overwhelming frustration, whining. "It hurts, 'Kuna!"

Sukuna hums in a mock sympathy, watching you suffer with a satisfied grin. You would have these marks for weeks. There were so many now, some more intense than others, and he wasn't even close to being done with you.

"You're being cruel." You accuse, watching your own hardship twinkle back at you in the reflection of his eyes. Your pout is purple and bruised from your attempts to keep quiet. Sukuna leans in closer and presses the sweetest kiss to your lips, as soft as the brush of a feather.

What was cruel was the fact that you had broken down everything Sukuna had ever known about himself. His strength was putty at your feet. His hatred for the world was a joke in your presence. His pride, a mere memory at the touch of your fingertips against his soul.

"You think this is cruel?" He whispers, mocking you. His voice is the taunt of a devilish trickster. "I think I've been going too easy on you. Allow me to rectify that."

There really is no curse more cruel than love.

[inkedinshadows]

Echoes of the Bond

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: part 2 of 3 of "A Helping Hand". When mates are reunited, Y/N grows curious about what the mating bond is, causing Azriel's brain to short-circuit.

Warnings: none I guess?

Word count: 3.7k

A Helping Hand (part 1)

֍֍֍֍֍

Y/N got out of the tub, wrapping her body in a soft towel.

For the last three weeks, she'd been able to take a bath on her own. Azriel had helped twice after that first time, and even Mor had tried when Azriel wasn't around. But Y/N wasn't comfortable with her there, not as she was with the Shadowsinger. Knowing she couldn't always count on him for something as basic as washing herself, she'd learned – or relearned, actually – how to do it herself. There were still bad days when the first few minutes in the water had her gasping for air, but they were now few and far between. And when they did occur, she usually imagined Azriel's heartbeat beneath her palm, just like the first time, and she'd calm down. She never told him that, though.

Sliding on a dress, she headed out of her room and toward the dining room. She was getting used to living in the House of Wind, almost looking forward to having meals with the Inner Circle. Elain and Nesta were still having a hard time adapting to this new life and refused to leave their rooms, and Y/N would visit them sometimes, but they'd never really been close. Out of the three sisters, Feyre was her friend, and she missed her. Things would be easier if she were back in the Night Court.

When Y/N entered the room, Azriel and Cassian were already there. She offered them a smile as she sat at the table, a plate of her favorite pastries appearing before her as soon as she did. Even after a month in Prythian, she was still trying to wrap her mind around magic. Real magic, right in front of her.

“How are you today?”

Y/N turned to Cassian with a small smile. “I'm feeling better every day.” She glanced at Azriel, who always seemed worried she might be lying about it. “And I haven't had any nightmares in a few days.”

Azriel inclined his head, a barely-there gesture she might have missed if she hadn't grown used to his subtle movements. Ever since he first helped her, she had become keenly aware of his every move.

“That's good,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her for a second longer before he returned his attention to his breakfast.

With Cassian's focus still on her, she picked up one of her pastries as she addressed him again. “And how are your wings?”

“Feeling better every day,” he answered, repeating her words with a mocking smile. He even extended them behind him to demonstrate the truthfulness of his statement. “Biggest wingspan getting back on track, I can tell you that.”

Y/N chuckled. “You have the biggest wingspan?”

“Oh, you bet I do.” Cassian's grin was nothing less than smug. “I could show you exactly how big–”

Azriel's snarl interrupted him. “Watch it, Cassian.”

But Cassian didn't seem particularly bothered. “Why? She asked,” he replied with a shrug. “I was merely offering her a chance to see for her–”

He was cut off by Azriel's low growl. Y/N looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion at the reaction. She'd never heard such a tone from him before, never seen him so on edge. Glancing from one Illyrian to the other, she realized there might be something she wasn't aware of, or maybe wingspan was just a very sensitive topic for them.

Cassian lifted his hands up in surrender, finally picking up on his brother's rising irritation. “Relax, Az.” He glanced at Y/N, then back at him. “It was just a joke, brother.”

But Azriel still seemed tense, and Y/N reached over to him to place a hand on his arm. “Azriel,” she said gently, “are you alright?”

He’d always been there for her since she’d arrived at the Night Court, and she now wanted to do the same for him, even if she didn’t know what had triggered such a reaction from him.

Those beautiful hazel eyes slid to her hand touching him, then to her face, and he finally relaxed as he gave her a nod. “Yeah… sorry about that,” he murmured, casting an apologetic look in Cassian’s direction, receiving only a dismissive wave of hand in return.

As Y/N pulled back, a few tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered between her fingers and curled around her wrist. Their master looked at them as if they were disobedient children and Cassian's eyes widened, but she only chuckled.

Shadows lingered in the darkest corners of her room, swirling under furniture or inside cracks as if they were trying to hide. But she knew they were there – she'd first noticed them one day when Azriel had brought her a tray of food, back when hunger was an unknown feeling and she didn't eat. Though neither she nor Azriel ever said anything about it, knowing his shadows were always with her was a comforting thought. But they'd never openly approached her before.

“They seem to like you,” Cassian pointed out, his voice muffled by the food he had just stuffed in his mouth.

Y/N watched the shadows linger around her wrist as a bracelet, a warm feeling sparking in her chest, there and gone as soon as the shadows hurtled back to their master. “I think they’re cute,” she said with a smile, her eyes meeting Azriel’s for a moment before they both looked away. She could have sworn a faint blush crept up his cheeks. It only made her smile grow.

Cassian seemed to notice it too, because he paused mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he focused first on his brother, then on her, then on Azriel again. And then his jaw almost dropped, his eyes now widened.

Y/N was about to chuckle at the sight, but Azriel was even more serious than usual and just gave Cassian a short nod. She frowned, aware once more that there was some kind of silent conversation going on between the two brothers. But neither of them bothered to enlighten her, and she didn't ask. She was still new to their world, and to their group. They would have told her if it was something they thought she should know, she was sure of it.

They continued to eat their breakfast, though a somewhat tense silence had now settled over them. Azriel kept his eyes on his food while Cassian was miserably failing at hiding his grin as he glanced between the two of them. On her part, Y/N felt like anything she could say would be the wrong thing, so she didn't say anything.

Once they were done eating, she stood up, intent on heading back to her room or maybe stopping at the library Rhys had shown her a few days before. But Cassian called out her name and she stopped in her tracks, turning around in time to notice Azriel's warning look at his brother.

“Would you like to leave the House for a few hours?” Cassian asked her with a smile. “Az and I could show you around Velaris. You said you wanted to see it yesterday.”

“I did,” she confirmed, surprised by the offer.

Azriel was now watching her, more relaxed than a few minutes ago as he waited for her answer. And she didn't even need to think about it.

“I'd really like that, yes.”

“Good!” Cassian almost burst out of his seat and guided her towards the doors that led out onto the balcony, Azriel trailing silently after them. “Then I hope you're not afraid of heights.”

Y/N frowned. “Heights? No, why?”

It was Azriel who answered this time. “The easiest way to reach the city is by flight.” He walked up to her, standing so close that his scent enveloped her, and she had to fight not to close her eyes and breathe it in. “Will you trust me to fly you down?”

She smiled then, soft and warm. “Az, of course I do.” After everything he’d done for her, there was probably nothing she wouldn't trust him with. “You know that.”

A coughing fit drew her attention to Cassian as he tried to suppress a giggle.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, nothing,” he snickered. “I'll see you down there.” He extended his wings and with a powerful beat, he shot skyward.

Y/N turned back to Azriel with a raised eyebrow, but he simply shook his head. “Ignore him,” he said, his tone somewhere between amused and annoyed. “He acts like a big child sometimes.”

She chuckled again, but it quickly died when Azriel stepped even closer. He moved slowly, as if he wanted to give her all the time to change her mind and push him away, but she didn't. And then his arms were at her knees and her back, and he effortlessly picked her up and cradled her to his chest.

Her heart skipped a beat and she tried her best not to blush at the proximity, the gentleness he was holding her with. It reminded her of when he'd washed her, every movement careful and studied so as not to startle her. That feeling in her chest came back, but it was more like a gentle tug. Toward what, she didn’t know.

“Are you ready?” His voice was soft, like he didn't want to ruin the moment, but his eyes bore into her and she could only nod, her ability to speak momentarily forgotten.

Next thing she knew, they were airborne. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck for more support when she realized just how high up in the sky they were, the House of Wind growing smaller behind them. She forced herself to peer at the city below them. And she stopped breathing altogether.

If the view from the House of Wind was beautiful, then there were no words to describe it from right above it. Velaris was sprawled below them, shining in the light of the morning sun, the river flowing through it to the sea, and as they slowly descended towards the city, Y/N could make out people in the streets, the sounds of music and laughter filling her ears.

“It's… so beautiful,” she murmured, her awestruck tone bringing a smile on Azriel’s lips.

“You should see it at night,” he replied, flying around until he spotted Cassian waiting for them. “There's a reason why it's called the City of Starlight.”

“Maybe you could take me flying at night, then.”

She didn't know where the words had come from, why she'd suggested it. Azriel definitely had more important things to do than show her a night view of Velaris. Sleep seemed like a good option, for example. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

But Azriel landed and gently placed her on her feet again, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he pulled away. “Maybe I could.” There was no hint of playfulness in his voice. He really meant it.

Before Y/N could answer, Cassian approached and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “There you are! I was starting to think you two would never come down.”

Azriel shot him a glare and simply gestured for them to start walking down the street. Cassian was still speaking, but she wasn’t listening, too busy taking in their surroundings to focus on anything else. She'd never seen a city before – none were left in the human lands – and Velaris was bustling with life. She marveled at every shop, every little corner, every painted house.

They had reached the end of the street, a bridge over the Sidra now in front of them, when both Cassian and Azriel tensed. Y/N turned to them, mouth already open to ask what was wrong, but a small cry of surprise came out instead as Mor suddenly appeared next to them.

“We have to go,” was all she said, her voice firm. She was wearing black leathers like the Illyrians, as if she was ready for a fight.

The three of them exchanged a glance, Y/N even more confused than before. Azriel simply said, “I'll take her to the townhouse,” and scooped her up in his arms once more. She only had time to see Mor grab Cassian's hand and winnow away before they were soaring through the sky again.

“Az, what's going on?” she finally asked, turning her face to look at him.

His unreadable expression only caused her to be even more nervous, yet Azriel didn't answer until he landed on the doorstep of a house and set her down. “It's Feyre.” Her heart jumped at the words. “She's in the Winter Court. We're getting her back.”

The door opened behind them, and Amren appeared. She lifted a brow at the sight of Y/N, probably not expecting her, but she simply looked at Azriel. “Go. Now.”

The Shadowsinger looked at Y/N one last time, gave them a sharp nod, and shot to the skies.

“Come inside, girl.” Amren stepped aside to let her walk by. “Looks like we've got some waiting to do.”

~~~~~~

Waiting must be some kind of torture.

Apparently, Amren didn't know much about Feyre's situation. She only explained that Rhys had spoken mind-to-mind with all of them, saying his mate had left the Spring Court. Other than that, she had no idea if Feyre was fine or hurt.

But Y/N wasn’t worried just about her friend. She was worried about Azriel too, as if he weren't a centuries-old warrior who could definitely look out for himself. Maybe it was just Amren's presence that set her even more on edge. The short female made her nervous, perhaps due to the power that seemed to thrum from her, or the way she seemed to look at her as if she could see into the depths of her soul.

After an hour that felt more like a century, five figures winnowed into the living room. Y/N flinched, then shot to her feet and ran to Feyre, not caring about the dirt that covered her friend as she held her tight. Feyre stumbled back a step, probably caught off guard, but hugged her back a second later.

“Y/N.” She pulled back, scanning her head to toe. “Are you alright?”

Y/N almost laughed at that. She wasn't the one who'd just needed a rescue party. “If I'm alright? Are you alright?”

Feyre nodded, but her attention quickly shifted. “Yeah, I'm… I'm alright.” Her eyes were searching the room, as if looking for something. Or someone, Y/N guessed.

Letting go of her friend, Y/N realized there was another person with them. A red-haired Fae with a mechanical golden eye. She'd seen him before – that day in Hybern. Now that her recollection of those events was clearer, she remembered him claiming Elain was his mate just as she came out of the Cauldron, right before they'd shoved her in.

Cassian, Azriel and Mor were assessing him, as if deciding what to do with him. But she paid little attention to what was being said, focusing instead on the Shadowsinger, searching for any sign of discomfort or – gods forbid – wounds. She sighed in relief when she found none, unsure of why she'd been so worried in the first place.

The conversation halted, and she whirled to see Rhysand appear in the doorway. Feyre sank to her knees, tears in her eyes, and he was immediately there to hold her. “My love,” he whispered, though they all heard it in the silence. “My mate.”

Once again, Y/N felt a slight tug in her chest, and her gaze was drawn to Azriel. She found him already looking at her, but when their eyes met,  he seemed to shrink into his shadows like he wanted to disappear. She unconsciously rubbed her chest as she averted her gaze.

“Go find somewhere else to be for a while,” Rhys ordered them.

One by one, they filed out the door and onto the street. Azriel declared he was going to fly her back to the House of Wind, the others announcing they’d be waiting in Amren's apartment until given the order to return to the townhouse. And so Y/N found herself in Azriel's arms for the third time in the span of less than two hours.

Despite her increased heart rate, she felt like a bit of a burden, needing to be carried around by him when he obviously had more pressing matters to take care of. Yet she couldn't deny the safety she felt in his arms while they flew toward the mountain and its house.

“Az,” she said after a couple minutes, “that male you brought back with Feyre–”

He looked down at her. “Lucien?”

Y/N nodded. “That day in Hybern, he… he said Elain was his mate.”

Azriel aimed for one of the balconies of the House of Wind. “What about it?”

“Fey and Rhys are mates as well,” she added, her brow furrowed. The High Lord had referred to her friend as such many times over the last few weeks.

The Shadowsinger landed and set her down, looking at her as if urging her to continue, not sure what she was trying to say. But he seemed to be holding his breath.

Maybe she should just let him go back to the others and keep her questions for later. But instead she asked, “What is a mate?”

Azriel tensed. She thought he might not answer, but then he spoke, his tone carrying a hint of reverence. “Mates are… equals, in every way. It's a very rare bond, but it's so deep and powerful that it's cherished and honored above others. Even marriage.”

Y/N rubbed her chest, the spot where she kept feeling that pull. Azriel cocked his head, noting the movement. She should definitely let him go, yet he made no movement to leave, and she found herself blurting out, “Do you have a mate?”

His shadows stilled their constant swirling around him. Maybe it was rude to ask, or it was a sensitive topic for him. Whatever the reason, she shouldn't–

“I do,” he answered, right as she was about to apologize. “I've found her recently.”

Her heart dropped. She didn't know why the idea of him with a mate bothered her, but that damn feeling in her chest grew stronger, and she had to resist the urge to rub it again.

“How is she?”

Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut, why did she have to keep asking questions? Why did she even care if Azriel had a mate or not? She'd just learnt what that meant anyway. At least her voice sounded soft and genuinely curious, not at all clipped – a small consolation.

“She is… kind, and gentle.” He spoke slowly, his words chosen carefully. But then his eyes softened and his shadows began to move again, a few tendrils stretching out towards her. “She's a lot like you, actually.”

All she took from his answer – what she chose to focus on, anyway – was that Azriel saw her as kind and gentle and that she reminded him of someone as important as his mate. Though it still stung a little, if she had to be honest. 

“Well,” she replied, her tone lighter as she took a step back. She smiled up at him. “She's lucky to have you, Az.”

She meant it. If he was even just half as sweet and caring with his mate as he'd been with her that first week after Hybern, then his mate was a really lucky girl. But the thought caused guilt to eat away at her insides. All those times she'd asked him for help – with her baths or to stay with her until she fell asleep – were all moments she'd stolen from him when he could have been with his mate instead. Every time he'd brought her food and checked on her, or even just spent a few hours in comfortable silence as she adjusted to her new life and body.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, unaware of the flustered expression on Azriel's face after her last comment. “When you helped me, I… I never meant to keep you from her. I hope she doesn't–”

“Don't worry about it,” he cut her off, a small smile now playing on his lips. “I'll always be there to help you when you need it.”

Y/N smiled again, whispering a ‘thank you’, though she was still not entirely convinced. But Azriel extended his beautiful wings, ready to return to his friends.

“You know how to get back to your room from here, yes?” he inquired, glancing behind her at the doors that led inside. When she nodded, he continued, “I'll see you later, then.”

A beat of his wings, and he was gone.

With a sigh, Y/N turned to walk inside, mindlessly brushing that same spot near her heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel used the few minutes of flight to reel in his nerves.

What was he thinking, telling Y/N his mate was a lot like her? The question had caught him off guard, and his brain had stopped working. He couldn't very well tell her they were mates – not there, not like that – but he should have come up with some better answer.

She’s lucky to have you.

The words echoed in his mind. He knew she meant it, like she seemed to mean everything she said. But would she still feel lucky once she learned it was her, that she was the one who had him from the first moment he saw her a month ago?

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N could feel the bond. He'd seen her rub her chest multiple times, always in the same place, right where he felt their bond in his own chest. She just didn't know what it meant. He couldn't blame her for it, not when she was still new to the faerie world.

Even as he joined the others in Amren's apartment, it was difficult to keep his attention on the conversation, on keeping an eye on Lucien, on what their next step would be. For the first time in decades, he was having troubles focusing, his mind constantly shifting to Y/N.

He couldn't go on like this. He had to tell her. He'd waited because she was still processing everything she'd gone through, but now she was feeling better. And she'd asked about mates. She deserved to know.

Azriel made his decision. Next time they'd be alone, he'd tell her the whole truth. Hoping she'd understand and not push him away.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it.

֍֍֍֍֍

Read part 3 here!

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows

[vmlnrznotfound]

imagine sae giving u backshots while ur wearing his jersey🤤🤤💆‍♂️💆‍♂️

you hadn't meant to wear sae's jersey. it was just something you threw on in the morning without thinking.

you'd been too tired to dig through your closet for something else, and his jersey was right there on top of the laundry pile, freshly washed yet smelling like him. it was big and comfortable, and it made you feel a little closer to him even though he was in the next room.

sae was in the living room, sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on his phone when you walked in. you didn't think much of it at first—you often wore his clothes around the house, especially when you were feeling particularly shy or in need of comfort.

it wasn't until you caught the way he was looking at you that you started to feel a little self-conscious.

his eyes were darker than usual, following your every move as you padded across the room and sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

the jersey was loose on you, the hem falling just above your knees, and you found yourself tugging at it nervously, suddenly aware of how exposed you felt under his gaze.

"hey," you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating a little faster.

sae didn't respond right away. he just kept staring at you, his expression unreadable. it made you fidget, and you looked down at your hands, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you like a physical touch.

you glanced up at him then down, cheeks heating up. "i...yeah, sorry, i didn't mean to-"

"don't apologize," he interrupted, his tone soft but with an underlying edge that sent a shiver down your spine. "i like seeing you in it."

you blinked at him, surprised by his words. sae wasn't usually so vocal about his feelings, especially when it came to something as simple as you wearing his clothes. but there was something different in the way he was looking at you now—something that made your breath catch in your throat.

"really?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper "it's just...comfortable."

"comfortable, huh?" sae leaned back against the couch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "you have no idea what you're doing to me right now, do you?"

you swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at his words. you shook your head, too flustered to speak.

the truth was, you didn't really know what he meant—you were just wearing his jersey, something you'd done a hundred times before. but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made you feel things you couldn't quite put into words.

he moved closer to you on the couch, closing the distance between you. his hand reached out, gently cupping your chin to tilt your face up toward his. your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "you're driving me crazy."

the warmth of his breath against your skin made you shiver, and you could feel your face growing hotter by the second. "i...i didn't mean to," you stammered, your voice trembling slightly.

"i know you didn't. but that just makes it worse." sae says, his voice low and dangerous.

before you could respond, sae's hands moved to your shoulders, gently turning you around so your back was pressed against his chest. you could feel his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in even closer, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear.

"you have no clue how much i want you right now," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. his hands slid down your arms, fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made your heart race.

you were completely surrounded by him—his scent, his warmth, the deep, husky tone of his voice. it was overwhelming, and all you could do was lean back against him, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"sae…not here, not like this." your voice was soft, laced with hesitation, and sae immediately understood.

he paused his kisses on your neck, feeling your legs still wrapped around his waist. with a gentle nod, he pulled you closer, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. as he carried you, your lips met in fleeting, delicate kisses, each one sending shivers down your spine, making the walk to the bedroom feel like an eternity.

sae set you down gently, his touch reassuring as he whispered, "turn over." though your shyness made you hesitate, you found yourself complying, trusting him completely.

sensing your unease, sae guided you with careful hands, positioning you on all fours that eased your nerves.

sae took out the condom from the drawer, ripping the plastic with his teeth as he wore it on. "ready?"

tagging: @someprettyname @ikuaiku

[nena-la-fresa]

All Night Long | Good Ending |

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

All Night Long | Neutral Ending | /// All Night Long | Bad Ending |

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Warning: Flirting | Smut | Little bit of Voyeurism | P in V | Blowjob | Three way |

Word Count: 2551

Sometimes you still think about that night. You felt like Beth and Hannah were like sisters to you. You visited their house often for breakfast and dinner, so it really hurt what happened. You couldn’t even imagine how Josh felt. You still feel somewhat responsible, maybe if you hadn't been taking care of Josh that night things would have been different. 

They both knew you liked their brother. If anything they were the only ones who tried to get you together. They were the ones who set drunk Josh down on the same couch as you. You were so focused on playing with his hair and drawing lines on his face with your fingers. You even confused your feelings to him. You thought he heard you when he mumbled your name in his sleep. 

But then they went missing and Josh cut off you and everyone else. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt but what else could you do. He was mourning. 

You were a little surprised though at the invite you got. But still happy, you really hoped that he was doing somewhat better. 

When you got there it was like he was the same Josh, he didn’t look like he was mourning. He acted the same way. He still made his same flirtatious comments. He was still that boy next door kind of guy. 

He had noticed that you got cold, so he walked over with a blanket. You were about to take it when he opened it and wrapped you with the blanket. You looked up at him, a bit corny but looking into his eyes just made you feel like kissing him. 

And you feel like he noticed too, why else would he clear his throat and walk away. You felt a little disappointed. But you thought it was a good time to talk to him. You sat down next to him while he was crouching trying to light the fire. You weren’t alone so you just spoke softly so only he could hear.

“I’m really sorry for what happened Josh. I really loved Hannah and Beth. I still miss going over to your house on Sundays and eating breakfast with you guys. I really regret that day too, I should have been with Hannah that day. But I was so focused on taking care of you that I just didn’t- I didn’t think about what could happen.”

You looked up and saw him looking at you. “Thank you. I appreciate that Y/n.” 

You were about to say something when Chris interrupted, “What am I missing?” 

You rolled your eyes before looking at Chris who was crouched coming in between the two of you. 

“Everything, we just had full blown sex right now. How'd you miss it?” Josh turned slightly to look at Chris. 

“Oh shit no way. Was it hot?” Chris patted Josh on the back. 

“Oh yeah dude. It was, you couldn’t tell? Dude had me cumming three times in the span of a minute. That guys, a real sex god.” They both looked at you bewildered, not uttering a word. 

“Okay, guess I can’t joke around. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I’m going to sit on the couch where it's less awkward.” You got up and moved over to where Ashely was. 

Chris moved to where you had been sitting, “So uh, you and uh, you and her?” He nodded towards you. 

“What about me and her?” Josh continued to try and get the fire going. 

“You finally gonna ask her out?” Chris whispers, “Cuz if you don’t I might just have to. I mean have you seen that ass? Just thinking about it makes me wet. Picture it, her ass up in the air while you're pounding into her and it has her screaming your name.” 

Josh glares over at Chris. Chris laughs, “Just saying the same shit you did buddy. But seriously, I think you should finally go for it. She definitely wants you to.”

You slowly stopped talking when you heard Sam yell about there not being any hot water. Josh got up and was about to head to the basement. 

“Go.” Ashley whispered, but seeing that you didn’t get up she yelled. “Josh, do you need help? Cuz Y/n could definitely help you if you needed help.” 

Josh turned around, “Yeah I could use some help. It’s definitely a two man job.” 

“Alright well if you need me that bad I guess I’ll go.” 

You both stood at the entrance of the basement. “Oh fuck no. I’m not going down there.” 

You didn’t budge, “What you scared?” Josh smirked. 

“Yes actually. Haven’t you ever seen scary movies Josh. People die in basements. There are ghosts and shit down there, psycho’s who are waiting for people to have sex.” 

“You tryin to have sex?” He raised an eyebrow.. 

You glare at him, “Sure buddy. Let’s have sex all you want.” 

He pumps his fist, “Yes.” He sees that you still aren't moving. 

“Alright. Here.” He holds out his arm for you. 

“Come on. Just hold onto me.” You hesitated, “Trust me, if there was anything in there I’d protect you.” 

“Okay.” You wrapped your arm around his, pulling him close. He could feel your breast pressed up against his arm. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him a little hard. 

After watching Josh fix the boiler he asks for your help. “Alright turn that switch there.”

“Right here?” 

“Yeah.”

You turn the switch on and the boiler starts working. 

“Yes! High five girl!” 

“What are we kids?” You laugh but still give him a high five. 

“Nah cuz if we were kids you wouldn't have said what you did upstairs.” You could hear the flirtation in his voice. 

You could feel your face heat up. “Okay. Let’s just forget about it” You start to walk away but hear a loud sound that scared you. “What was that?” 

You backed up into Josh, the warmth that was radiating off of his chest had you melting. His hands landed on your hips keeping you close. You felt him lean down and talk in your ear. 

“That could be a lot of things. But what I’m focused on is the fact you called me a what was it again? A sex god?” 

You shifted a bit in his grasp, an exhale left his breath. “Don’t do that.” His voice barely above a whisper. 

You felt something boil up from inside you. Something about him whispering in your ear got to you. “Do what? Oh this?” You rubbed your ass against him. 

“Fuck.” Josh gripped your waist tighter. 

“What can’t flirt back.” You felt him start to rub himself against your ass. 

One of his hands shifted from your hip to your pants. He wasted no time slipping his hand down them. His cold hand against your slit was such a sensation. His fingers went past your folds and slipped inside. “Fuck.” You whispered. 

You were at a loss of words as he pumped his fingers in and out slowly. He used his other hand to move your hair out of the way so that he could suck on your neck. His hand going back to your hip to hold you in place. 

“What was that about flirting back?” He felt you tighten around his fingers. 

“Josh please.” 

“Please what?” 

“I need you.” He took his fingers out. Leaving you feeling empty. 

“Need me where.” He put his fingers in his mouth, “God you taste so good.” 

“In me. I need you in me please.” He got right to it. He took off your clothes and his. You could feel his hard dick against your ass. 

He pushed you against the way so that you could lean forward. His dick rubbing against your folds. You could feel his arousal. 

Your once empty hole felt full, the girth and length that this man had. He started out slow. But he picked up the pace. One hand on your hip and the other against your clit. 

“Your pussy feels so good.” He whispered to you. He stopped for a bit before putting you on all fours. Your face pressed against the blanket he gave you earlier. His hands on your waist, gripping them tight enough to leave a bruise. And the feeling of his dick reaching places you wouldn't have felt while being pushed up against the wall. 

Josh's pace starts to pick up. He starts hitting all the right places and it causes you to scream. 

Unbeknownst to you both but there was someone watching. Chris was getting ready to scare you both with the first sound but when you both didn’t go investigating he got closer. That was when he saw you two. He was watching as you were grinding on Josh, and the way Josh started fingering you. He felt himself get hard. He knows he shouldn't have. He had a crush on Ashley. But what he told Josh earlier wasn't that much of a lie. He did think you were hot, especially in high school. Even when Josh dropped out he’d still see you around campus, he always wanted to talk to you. Always wanted to have sex with you. He fantasized about it a lot. 

And now here he is. Watching behind a shelf, with his dick out stroking himself to the sight of his best friend fuck the girl he thought was hot. He could feel himself getting closer to cumming when something fell. 

You both looked up in the direction of the noise. Chris’s face was now visible to you both. “Uh. I heard someone scream.” 

Josh didn’t stop though, the room filled with the sound of skin hitting against one another.  If anything Christ standing and just watching made Josh thrust even harder, like he was trying to claim his dominance. Especially with what Chris was saying earlier. 

You’ve never thought of Chris in that way but being watched did something to you. “Josh” you moaned his name and felt yourself squeezing around his dick. 

“You just gonna stand there Cochise? Cuz it looks like our girl here is getting excited from being watched. I know you haven't gotten your dick sucked. Why don’t you let her get it wet. But don’t expect it again. It’s a one-time offer Cochise.” Josh watched as Chris hesitated. 

“Or you could go back upstairs and not get any from Ashley. Cuz I know you both wont put out.”

In a rush Chris keeps the robe on but gets down on his knees. You prop yourself up but grab his hard dick. You lick the tip before looking up at him and putting it in your mouth. 

“Fuck” Chris lens his head back and grabs a fist full of hair. 

“She’s good isn't she Cochise.” Josh kept ramming into you, saliva dripping down your chin from Chris, dick in your mouth. 

“She's better with her mouth around you. So why don’t I give you a turn and you give me a turn.” 

Anger built up in Josh, “Fuck no.” Josh grabbed your arms and pulled you back up. 

“I have an idea. I don’t think you’ll like it though.” You let Josh slip out of you. You turned around, your lips hovering over his lips. “But I really want to try it. And then after I’m all yours.” 

Josh nodded, you told Chris to lay down. You made Josh watch as you sank down on Chris’ dick. You bounced on it a few times before leaning back against Chris’ chest. 

“You just want me to watch you fuck another guy?”

“No. Just come here.” You wrapped your mouth against his dick and got it wet. You sucked on the tip before pulling back, “I want you to go in.” 

“I’m sorry what?” Chris showed hesitation. 

“Chris please. Come on, don't ever tell me that you two horn dogs never thought about a girl with two dicks in her.” 

Josh smirked at you, “Wow, you��re really taking that party like porn stars seriously.” 

“You said it yourself, ‘it’s a one-time offer.’” 

Josh wasted no time. He leaned you back against Chris. Chris held your waist with one hand and the other hand its way to your breast. You moaned feeling Josh spit on your pussy and his dick. He pushed his dick against your entrance, stretching it and pressing it against Chris’. 

“Fuck” You gasped at the feeling of being filled to the brim. 

Josh starts to thrust, your pussy dripping from arousal makes it easy for them both to move inside you. You could feel yourself coming closer. Your eyes started to water, you felt that tingling sensation on your nose. They could feel you tighten around them. 

Chris pulled out and began to jerk himself off. But Josh kept going even if you began to get overstimulated. He kept fucking you while you were still on top of Chris, he just slightly lifted you to not disturb Chris letting it lose. 

You could feel Josh getting closer. His thrust were erratic, his breathing was heavy. He kept whispering your name until he came inside of you. 

Josh leaned down and kissed you. 

You all stayed there for a moment to catch a breath. That was before Chris got up after cleaning himself. “So uh, we don’t tell Ashely or anyone right?” 

“Right.” You laughed as Josh helped you put on your clothes. 

“And it was a one time thing Chris.” Josh turned around after he finished buttoning his pants. 

“Right right. I get it.” 

You all ended up going back up stairs together. Ashley got up from the couch “What took you guys so long.” She paused before seeing Chris robe. “What in god's name are you wearing?” 

Chris did the Trinity on Ashley, “I found my true calling.” 

“Pretty ironic huh.” Josh whispered over to you, you stiffened a laugh before elbowing him lightly. 

“Please tell me you're going to take a vow of silence.” Ashley joked.

“He better.” Josh spoke a little louder, confusing Ashley a bit. 

After you nudged Josh again he turned to you. “And you. What am I going to do with you?” 

You smirked at him, “With me? I did nothing.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I guess we just gotta go for round two huh.” Josh grabbed your wrist lightly trying to lead you. 

“Oh you mean round two with you know who?” You could see that he got irritated for a second. 

“Yeah sure okay.” Josh leaned down before holding your legs and throwing you over his shoulder. 

“Where are you two going?” Ashley laughed at the two of you. 

Josh started to walk up the stairs, “I gotta talk with her about some stuff. You two have fun down here.”

“Damn that basement really did something for them huh.” She laughed and looked at Chris. Who weirdly looked irritated. 

“Chris?” 

He snapped out of it. “Oh, yeah. It really did. Some kinda trauma bonding or something from the scare I gave them.” 

“Where did you even find that?” Ashley listened to Chris all the weird shit that he found in the basement. Excluding the sex and him watching you and Josh fuck before he joined in.

[changetyre]

Grid Uncles Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Max brings his first daughter to the grid for the first time and it doesn't go exactly as he imagined. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: None? Too much fluff.

A/N: This was requested over to me on Wattpad and it's a series I've expanded on over there which I thought to bring over to tumblr since I love it so much ;)

"But what about this one? You love wearing this one because it looks like Papa right?" Max held up the tiny Red Bull shirt in his hands. 

You laughed watching your daughter giggle laughing at her dad too adamant about wearing her orange McLaren shirt gifted to her by her uncle Wando as she called him still having trouble pronouncing her Ls. 

"What even is this? My own daughter cheering for the rival team?" Max turned to you. 

You shrugged. "You made her a fan, she picked a team, now deal with the consequences." 

"Papa up." Your daughter giggled making grabby hands at her dad too oblivious to how offended he was with her choice of attire. 

Max had been waiting for this day for the longest time, the day he'd finally be able to take his first daughter to work with him. When Lea was born you'd agreed that you would wait until she was at least 2 to take her to a race and since she turned 2 just before the Monaco GP Max thought it was the best race to take her being home. If she got too overwhelmed you'd agreed that you'd walk her back home and have her watch the race from your balcony like you'd done the year before. 

Cherishing every moment Max had with her Lea hadn't yet met the other drivers except for Daniel (Lea's godfather), Lando, and Checo who had been amazing at helping Max navigate the nerves of being a first-time parent. 

But practically from the day Lea was born, Max had put on races for her, despite the fact she couldn't physically watch them yet he put them on and you'd noticed that when Max was away for races Lea would find comfort in watching races stopping her from crying when she was having rough days. 

So Lea was beyond excited even though you were almost sure she hadn't quite grasped this sport's magnitude. Yes, Lea would watch Max on TV putting on his helmet and driving around and shouting Papa whenever he or his car would appear on screen but besides that, she truly had no idea about the other aspects of it, the loud noises and the crowds you were extremely nervous about. 

"Ready to go, love?" Max walked to you holding your daughter in his arms. 

"Ye-" 

"Yes, papa go." Lea interrupted answering the question as if it was meant for her. 

"I'm papa's love Lea." You spoke to your daughter. 

"No mama! My papa." Lea furrowed her brows wrapping her tiny arms around Max's neck possesively. 

Max laughed and your jaw dropped 'offended' at your daughter's attitude. This had been a problem for the last couple of weeks Lea suddenly became incredibly possessive of Max, not liking when you would hug or kiss and she would get jealous and upset when she caught you doing anything of the sort. 

"She's a daddy's girl just like her mom." Max joked. 

"MAX!" you slapped his shoulder gasping loudly. 

"NO MAMA!" Lea shouted at you upset for hurting her papa. "No hit papa." She started sniffling. 

"Lea I'm sorry Papa said something naughty but I shouldn't have hit him." You tried to comfort your daughter. 

"Papa okay?" Lea cupped Max's cheeks in her tiny hands. 

Max faked a pout. "Papa's okay baby," Max reassured his daughter who turned to glare at you with a pout just like her dad's. 

"Okay, big babies why don't we go before I make anyone else upset." You rolled your eyes at the antics. 

____________

"You ready?" Max asked you, looking back at you sitting at the back with Lea through the rearview mirror. 

You sighed. "Ready as I'll ever be." despite it being a short way for your and Lea's protection Max had decided to drive into the track. You unstrapped Lea from her seat and waited for Max to come around and open the door for you. 

As soon as he walked out there were already multiple screams and camera flashes calling for his attention. Max opened the car door and took Lea into his arms extending his other arm to help you out and shut the door behind you. 

Max kept a tight grip on you and Lea as you walked into the paddock, luckily Max had asked for extra security and they were closely around you preventing fans and cameramen from getting close to your family. 

"Papa." Lea got upset at all the camera flashes and screams for her dad's name burying her face into her dad's neck. 

"It's okay baby we're almost there." Max started questioning himself, was it a bad idea to bring Lea into a race already? 

You made it into the paddock fairly quickly and you could see Lea's head perk up. "PAPA Unco WANDO!" Lea screamed in joy recognizing the logo from the McLaren building further ahead. 

"We'll see him later Lea." Max laughed cheering up at his daughter's joy. 

She was about to get upset again as you walked into the Redbull motorhome but lucky for you someone came to save the day before Lea could start throwing a tantrum. 

"Oh my god!" Even if he wasn't right around the corner that loud laughter could be heard from a mile away. "Is that my favorite goddaughter?" Daniel asked loudly getting Lea's attention. 

"DANNNYYY!" Lea screamed squirming in her dad's arms as she tugged to get down. 

Max winced at the sharp scream in his ear before placing her down and letting her wobble the rest of the way to her godfather. 

"She's your only goddaughter Daniel." Max reminded his best friend. 

"That's why she's my favorite." Dani's smile looked wider than usual as Lea wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. 

"Yeah well, you're not her favorite." Max was still offended by her choice of attire. 

"Uh, Lea what's this?" Daniel took in her attire. 

"Unco Wando." She clapped excitedly. 

Daniel turned to look at you both disappointed. "You guys obviously didn't meet her expectations she had to be a fan of someone else." You joked. 

"AHHHH PAPA CAR!" Lea screamed excitedly once more as she noticed the 2 cars sitting in the garage. 

"Hello, princess." Checo walked over after hearing Lea's loud personality. 

"Unco Cheto!" Lea smiled high-fiving Checo who held his hand up high for her, he then greeted you and Max. 

"Has she had the tour yet?" Checo asked. 

"Not quite yet, just got her but am planning to do so now." Max smiled excitedly. 

"Lea why don't we go explore?" You asked your daughter still in Dani's arms looking around at everything, her mind must have been working overtime trying to make sense of all the screens, people, and noises. 

She nodded extending her arms and letting herself fall forward into your arms. "We'll see you guys later." You waved goodbye to Dani and Checo for now as you stepped into pitlane to walk along the garages which were still closed for fans and there were only a few cameramen around. 

You started walking down and Charles was the first to spot you. "Oh hello!" Charles walked over greeting Max before greeting you with a kiss on each cheek and finally pinching Lea's cheeks who suddenly got all shy and flustered, her face growing red. 

"Lea say hi." you laughed at her shy personality coming out which was rare in her. 

"hi." She giggled before burying herself in your neck. I guess she wasn't immune to Charles Leclerc's charm either. 

"Lea this is Charles." Max tried to get his daughter to interact. 

"I'm Wea." She finally pried herself away from your body but still avoided Charles's eyes. 

"Wow, what a beautiful name." Charles complimented her which caused her to go into another fit of giggles, you thought it was hilarious but you could see Max didn't find it quite as amusing. Before he could say anything Carlos had appeared. 

"Is this Lea?" Carlos asked excitedly. 

"Yes, it is." You smiled proudly. 

"Wow, hi darling I'm Carlos." He extended his hand.

"Hello." She extended her tiny hand letting him shake it. 

Carlos wasn't able to say much else before her absolute favorite person appeared a few seconds later. 

Everyone was startled covering their ears as Lea let out yet another even louder screech at watching Lando come out of his garage. "UNCO WANDOOOOO" She squirmed in your arms. 

You couldn't let go of her here because of all the cables and machinery around but as soon as Lando heard her yells he didn't hesitate to run over. 

"Wow, that explains the shirt." Carlos laughed. 

As soon as Lando was closer you finally put Lea down who ran with all her might up to her uncle. "My baby." Lando scooped Lea up into his arms. 

"Unco wando," Lea said in the most love-filled tone hugging Lando before laying her head down over his shoulder making everyone aww at the action. 

"I missed you so much." He whispered to her as he walked closer to the group that had formed. 

"wook!" Lea showed him her shirt proudly. 

"Wow, who got you that?" He gasped surprised. 

"You." She laughed at her uncle's antics. 

"Lea, do you want one like this?" Charles asked her pointing at his own shirt. 

"Lea's face went red again this time she hid in Lando's neck. She still nodded fiddling with her shirt nervously. 

"What's this about?" Lando asked unamused too. 

"I think someone has a little crush on Charles." You laughed. 

"No one's allowed to give Lea their team shirt, she won't even wear mine." Max crossed his arms annoyed. "And you stay away from my daughter." Max pointed at Charles who put his hands up in surrender laughing as he walked back into his garage with Carlos.

Lea wouldn't leave Lando's arms now so you continued touring the garage with him, Lea met a few more drivers who all were happy to meet her, Lea especially liked meeting George and Alex but not for them but for their girlfriends who happily played with Lea. Alex and George knew they were in trouble as now their girlfriend's baby fever was high. 

"You have a beautiful family." Daniel patted Max on the back as they watched you placing Lea inside Max's car. 

Max nodded proudly, looking at his wife and daughter with so much love. "Might get a little bigger in a few months." Max broke the news. 

Daniel's head snapped over to his best friend.  "No way," Daniel whispered excitedly. 

Max's eyes beamed proudly just about making out the bump you hid with your puffy dress, watching as you subconsciously placed a hand on your stomach as you leaned down to your daughter's eye level. "Lea's gonna be a big sister," Max confirmed. 

"Congratulations man, you both are amazing parents." Daniel hugged his friend tightly. 

Once Max turned his attention back to you he saw your gaze was meeting his again. You blinked 3 times shutting your eyes a little tighter, a little sign you and Max had made years ago, a way to say I love you when he couldn't hear you over all the noise. Max repeated the action to you, but mouthing those three words to you anyway. 

Everyone might have thought winning a championship was the best feeling in the world for a man so dedicated to motorsports but being able to watch his daughter grow up with the love of his life...he'd give up his entire career just to see that every day. 

[bayjaruchel]

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

－－－

Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation. 

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation. 

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness. 

Yeah. Heads, plural. 

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself. 

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis. 

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—  

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks. 

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both. 

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."  

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste." 

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.  

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement." 

"Expensive wine?" 

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it." 

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?" 

He snorts. "Too classy." 

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights. 

"Cheap beer it is, then." 

Clapton's grin is back. 

"Unfortunately." 

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks? 

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in. 

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in? 

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse. 

"Four minutes," he echoes. 

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead. 

"Yeah." 

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet. 

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time." 

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows—  you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left. 

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?" 

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up. 

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check." 

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?" 

Clapton raises his eyebrows again. 

There's a shift in the air. 

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?  

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though. 

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do. 

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it. 

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?" 

He definitely already knows the answer to that question. 

"Yeah, you don't." 

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor— 

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"  

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat. 

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half— 

"Just do it," you breathe.   

And he does. 

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient. 

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower— 

There's a loud series of knocks at the door. 

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips—  but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet. 

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open. 

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s. 

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper: 

"Wanna go upstairs?" 

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree. 

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles. 

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times. 

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him. 

"You think?" 

He grins. "Sure do." 

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in. 

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough. 

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted. 

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—" 

"Go ahead," you interrupt.  

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time. 

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.  

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt. 

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles. 

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.  

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops. 

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?" 

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."  

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna." 

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.  

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever. 

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"  

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?" 

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?" 

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry." 

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that." 

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements. 

"In your—?" 

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"  

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you. 

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?" 

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright." 

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off. 

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips. 

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do — 

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —" 

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time. 

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but— 

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter: 

"Don't hold back." 

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard. 

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — " 

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this. 

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— " 

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"    

"Fuck— "  You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom—  but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes— 

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato. 

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh. 

He mimics it, and you glance down at him. 

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not. 

"We should get cleaned up or something." 

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something." 

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine." 

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states. 

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway. 

It's silent, before he interjects: 

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?" 

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection. 

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want." 

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … " 

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds. 

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you." 

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause. 

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind. 

"You wanna get out of here?" 

He beams. 

[sanakimohara]

hi, is it okay if i request something? 💖

thinking hard about roommate! seungmin..

imagine you havent been able to get off in over a month or so and youre so sexually frustrated that you end up impulsively buying a fuck machine online.. your roommate ends up going out to meet with friends so you find it the perfect time to try your newly bought toy out, and as you use it the pent up stress and frustration just spills out and youre so fucking horny you end up orgasming and squirting for what seems like hours, until you finally hear the door click open and you try to reach for the remote to turn it off, only to realize it fell on the floor, and youre lying on top of your bed with legs too weak to even attempt to sit back up. the machine is still fucking in and out of your dripping cunt and when seungmin shouts that hes back but never hears back an answer, he gets worried and walks into your room only to find you desperately begging him to help, to turn off the machine for you, but he cant help the fact that hes slowly getting hard as he watches you get fucked by a pathetic little dildo..

“SURREAL SATISFACTION” K. S. Pt.1

….now this is a mouthwatering request 🖤 lets get to it shall we?…breaking this down into 2 parts btw.

[ MDNI ]

+++++++

"Ugh!" You groaned loudly, pulling your hand from between your spread legs and sitting up with a dejected expression on your face as the desire to touch the edge of yourself disintegrated without warning.

Frustration, stress, and despair coiled in the pit of your stomach -erasing the prickle of pleasure you'd been trying to increase for the past week and a half.

There was no luck for you though. It seemed like something went wrong or interrupted every time you touched yourself. The first few times hadn't bothered you much, but now….going nearly two weeks without masturbating was altering your psyche for the worst.

Everyday tasks were becoming annoying to complete, and sleeping through the night turned into restless tossing and turning, but the cherry on top for you was the consistent ache your cunt wouldn't let go of. Being horny 24/7 wasn't news for you, and you'd found that watching porn while your roommate was gone helped quell some of your urges.

However, this wasn't always an excellent solution for two main reasons:

Seungmin could return to your shared apartment anytime -already comfortable with just waltzing into your room whenever he pleased if the door wasn't locked. You knew he'd never judge you for watching erotica since sex was the causal topic for the both of you…but somewhere deep in your soul, the thought of Seungmin seeing you so desperately in need of sex -to the point you'd turned to porn for salvation- made you blush shamefully.

You couldn't even get off to porn anymore. It was nice to watch; it was better for edging yourself, but it was still not enough to finish the job. Yet, despite how numb you were becoming to sexual media, you continued to consume it.

Now, you were stuck in a frivolous circle, edging, giving up on that, and resorting to your laptop's browser history….again.

"Fuck my life…" you mutter angrily, laying flat on your stomach as you slip your laptop from underneath your pillows and open it right up to visit whatever porn website you can find.

You'd already greedily indulged in most forums, raking through each website category to find your favorites and watching a handful of videos before becoming bored or dozing off.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you passed page after page of porn content, feet kicking back and forth gently, and your bottom lips catching between your trashy as you scanned more forums.

One finally caught your eye. "Specifically for Women" was the headline, and you immediately clicked on it with a shadow of hope on your face as it loaded on the screen.

You browsed the site for nearly an hour, thoroughly enjoying the content provided, but still unable to get off to it. You began to consider exiting the forum, seeing how late it was, and deciding that getting some sleep would benefit you. That was your plan before Seungmin stalked into your room without warning. "You have any plans for tomorrow, sweetheart?" He asks you nonchalantly, heading straight for your nightstand to retrieve the charger you'd borrowed from him earlier.

You snapped the laptop shut as he neared the side of the bed, unplugging the cord with one swift hand as he raised a brow at you, waiting to hear an answer to his question. You smile nervously, nodding to whatever he says, "You are busy? I'm just double-checking because I'll be out with some friends all day, but I have a package coming in. I was gonna ask you to sign for it while I’m gone.”

You cut into his explanation, studying his features as he looked you up and down, "Sure, I can sign for it while you're gone, Min. It's no problem…" you offer your help with a tight-lipped smile, subconsciously hugging your laptop closed to your chest. Seungmin laughs softly as he takes notice of your anxious action. "I thought you said you'd be busy-"he pries, and you gulp before rushing out a haphazard excuse.

"W-well, I won't be gone all day, Min. Sorry if you misunderstood what I meant.."

He stared down at you, scanning your obviously flustered state with a smile tugging at his lips. "What were you up to just now, Y/n?" He asks the question casually, holding your gaze for what seems like an eternity until you mumble, "…nothing." Seungmin can feel the guilt oozing off your skin; it's swimming in your eyes, and he wonders why you'd lie to him about something bothering you.

He thought by now -after two years of being roommates- that you'd established a typical exchange of trust. Neither of you acknowledged the steady tension growing up til now, and he preferred it that way, but within moments like this, he wished you'd open up to him like a proper significant other would.

But you weren't his partner, and he decided not to press the issue if you weren't comfortable addressing it.

"Hm…okay. Well, I'll be up pretty late tonight. If you need anything, just shout for me…"!Seungmin circles around your bed again, flashing you one last smile before he leaves your room, and when the distinct 'click' of the door closing hits your ears, you open your laptop up again.

"That was way too close," you mutter to yourself, exhaling heavily to slow the rapid beating of your heart, but the image of Seungmin looming over you -unknowingly feeding your lust-driven psychosis- had your core throbbing all over again.

You couldn't take this much longer, enduring the sight of Seungmin without jumping on him for a bid at sexual relief, and if you thought about how that's playing out for more than ten seconds, you were back to square one of the problem.

So, you tried to fix it with a hasty decision. Buying a sex toy, not just an essential aid for arousal, but a contraption you were confident could get the job done…at least once.

Thankfully, the site you'd been browsing through for the past hour and a half had an expansive selection of products. Finding and purchasing the needed item took you only a short time.

< Your order is complete. Express shipping arrives in 24 hours or less! >

You stared at the message, confused as to why it said you paid for express shipping when you clearly clicked on "standard', but since the mistake was made and over with, you shut your laptop with a tired sigh.

In the living room, Seungmin sauntered over to the plush black cushioned couch, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, his phone occupying the other. He wasn't lying when he told you he'd be up late. The reason why was similar to your own for dodging his question.

Sex.

More specifically, how to get it from you, and with all the intelligence in the world, Seungmin thought his friends could help him achieve this.

He was proved wrong. They all had suggestions he'd previously employed that all ended with little to no results being attained.

"Have you walked around shirtless like Chan Hyung," Jisung piped up at the end of their three-way call, to which Felix laughed and added to the question, "Try shirtless with grey sweats. That'll be more accurate."

Seungmin groaned at their idiocy, grumbling as he sank onto the couch, "I've tried both, but she just avoids me the entire day when I do. And I know it's not because she doesn't like me back. She'll walk around barely clothed the next day, asking me to help with everything, and I know it's her way of getting back at me…"

It was, but you'd never say it aloud for him to hear, and he'd grown too headstrong to admit the effect it had on him.

Felix spoke up, amused by his friend's troubles but still wanting to provide a helping hand. "This might sound weird…maybe even a little off-putting…but let her catch you…ya know..?"

Seungmin sat up straighter, face scrunching as he tried to decipher what he meant, "No, I don't know, Lix…" He heard a nervous chuckle from the blonde, a sharp inhale, and an explanation he'd never imagined Felix, of all people, to give.

"Let her catch you masturbating."

"Felix?!" Jisung shouted in disbelief, voicing the same shock Seungmin couldn't seem to put into words as he mulled over the suggestion. Felix huffed, disregarding Jisung's dramatics to address Seungmin directly. "Listen, it worked for me before. Maybe it'll work for you. Sounds like she feels the same way you do. She just probably needs…a sign from you."

Felix had a point…sort of. Seungmin knew it but wasn't sure jerking off to get your attention was the right way to go.

That was until he heard your muffled moans vibrate through the wall.

He froze, unconsciously licking his lips as he listened to your whimpers of pleasure, not hearing a word Jisung or Felix said for the next minute.

Is she….touching herself right now?

Seungmin hung his head, gripping his phone so hard he thought it would break, and his joggers started to pull tight as his cock hardened. "Seungmin…hey Min, you still there?" Jisung's voice sounded miles away, drowned out by the salacious moans that you failed to stifle in the mess of your covers, but he heard every slutty sound you made.

"I. I gotta go, guys. I'll call you later.." he ended the call without a second thought, barely registering his friend's farewells, closing his eyes as he honed in on your voice. He could hear the thick covers on your bed shifting with your every move, and it wasn't hard for him to imagine how dainty you must've looked, tossing and turning with a hand tucked between your thighs.

Seungmin felt his throat go dry as the image of your legs spread open for him, what your creamy folds would look like when he sank two fingers into you, and how long he could make you cum like that -clenching around his fingers as they fucked you at a practiced rhythm.

His head reeled back against the wall, a soft grunt leaving his lips as he henpecked them and laid one of his hands over the bulge in his pants. You were talking yourself through it now, trying to edge your body closer to a release but unintentionally encouraging Seungmin to touch himself as he listened.

"…fuck, please…just like that…" you whined into the still air of your room, twisting your head against the pillows as your own fingers deviled farther into your walls. You were right at your end, closer to achieving your goal by using the image of Seungmin staring you down as fuel, but the oncoming threat of dissatisfaction crept in quicker than you could pump your fingers. You couldn't reach deep enough and explore the entire expanse of your warm walls as thoroughly as you assumed Seungmin could, which drained your imagination entirely.

You drew your hand away from your cunt with a defeated groan, whining curses as your slick-coated fingers started to dry, and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. This was unfair. The universe had to be playing a sick joke on you to make you crave a man so much that the simple act of pleasuring yourself to the thought of him felt useless.

The devastation had your head spinning, lacking logic, and doused in a pathetic sense of loneliness. "Seungmin.." you mumbled hopelessly, ready to cry as you snuggled into one of the pillows at the head of your bed. Saying his name eased your distraught state, made you remember who he was to you, and brought you back down into the depths of reality. He was your roommate who occasionally flirted with you.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Crushing on him was bad enough; craving his touch was worse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. With a heavy heart and mind, you dozed off into sleep, hugging your pillow tight to substitute Seungmin 's embrace, and tried to forget your shameful night.

Seungmin's eyes shot open when he could no longer hear your sweet cries, his hand just beginning to fist his fully erect shaft, and precum oozed from his aching tip in a steady stream.

Why'd you stop? How could you leave him on the edge like this? Were you trying to agitate him, or was this another ploy to get back at him for something?

He was too frustrated to formulate answers to those questions, hyper-focused on the coil in his torso begging to snap, and unable to resist the urge to finish himself off. He pumped his fist slowly, replaying the last five minutes of your soft moans as a guide, and his own groans began to surface then.

Seungmin didn't bother to shut himself up, considering Felix's earlier suggestion, but put his own twist on it.

You didn't need to catch him.

No, he'd let you hear him as shamelessly as you had. And even at the brink of sleep, you listened, biting your lip as his husky voice trembled through the wall, and the sound of his cock sliding through his wet palm brought a heady blush to your cheeks. He moaned your name with confidence, smirking to himself as his hips bucked involuntarily at the thought of you, "Y/n…Y/n…mmm, fuck.. you're so good baby…so, so good."

The heat rose in your cunt like a raging wildfire as he let your name ring through the apartment.

Did he not care that you were on the other side of the room? Was he that certain you were asleep? Why don't you want him to stop? Why are you listening so intently?…

You gulped, subconsciously wrapping your legs around your pillow to rut against it, following the cadence of Seungmin's moans. His words began to slur together, dissolving into rough grunts as he reached his high, and with a final curse falling from his lips, he came.

You bit into your pillow to mask the excited mewl you let out, hearing him unravel. Visualizing the amount of cum that drenched his hand felt sinful; having to bite the tip of your index finger to keep from rushing out of your room to lick his hand and cock clean felt even worse, but you managed to stay sane…to stay put as he shuffled around in the other room to fix himself up.

Seungmin heard your timid squeals, though, grinning like a madman as he cleaned himself up and took a sip of his alcohol. His plan had gone smoothly, if not perfectly, and if your reaction meant anything…..he was sure it wouldn't be long before you came crawling to him for more.

++++++++

Like I said, I’m breaking this down into to two parts. 🖤 We’ll get to the best half soon. ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I support the Seungmin Sir/Master kink agenda and this edit is a contributing factor in my argument. 🖤 credits to creator btw 🖤

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine going through relationship issues with Spencer and a scare at works sets you both back on the right path

This had been the eighth night in a row you'd slept alone. Opting to sleep in the spare bedroom of the place you and Spencer had bought together. Waking up hurt and sad with your partner was an exhausting way to live, and it was getting to you. The team had been back at the main office for the same amount of time. Having a big bust up on the aftermath of a case meant the journey back on the jet was awkward for everyone involved.

When he hadn't agreed with the way you dealt with the unsub, on top of you both disagreeing on when to start trying for a family. Had left you feeling put down and attacked both in work and in your personal life. Feeling like you couldn't do anything right, and that you were holding him back.

It was made worse by his lack of enthusiasm when you attempted to make amends. Wanting to talk about the issue, but finding it difficult when your boyfriend was a stubborn lump. Shrugging his shoulders and seeming totally disinterested.

After the fourth day of you trying to get through to him. You gave in. Telling yourself that if he wanted to make amends he would. Or he'd realise once it was too late.

Today though, you had a meeting with Garcia, she was going to show you an easier way of accessing some files. The way she does it. Getting yourself up and ready. The house sounded eerily quiet. Spencer did have a habit of impersonating the invisible man when he was home. But still, it was cold and felt empty.

Making your way downstairs, you called out for him, but got no answer.

Realising he wasn't even home. You felt another pang in your chest. Maybe he was done? The thought made your eyes sting. But on checking the time, you would be late to meet Garcia. You grabbed your breakfast out the fridge and grabbed your bag and keys.

Once in the office, you passed the bullring to see Spencer at his desk. Nose deep in some files.

"Hey, what time did you come in? We could have come together." You asked, approaching his desk.

"Early. Didn't want to wake you."

Nodding, you still wanted to push for you both to make up, "did you want to grab lunch somewhere? Would be nice to spend some time with you."

"I'm busy."

"Well I didn't mean right now. Later. When you're free? I'm in Garcias office if you-"

"Y/N, you're here!" Garcia squeaked, "for a moment I thought you were standing me up."

Realising he still wasn't ready to have a decent conversation with you. You gave up, again.

"Never." You smiled at her, before giving Spencer a sad look as he continued to read his papers.

You sat down in Garcias office and fully immersed yourself in the training. Pushing Spencer to the back of your mind.

Around lunchtime you saw Spencer walk past the room and you felt another wave of sadness wash over you.

"So, what's up with you and Sir Smarts-a-lot?" Garcia asked you while you were taking a break.

"There's not really much to tell. We fell out over some serious and not so serious things. I've tried to patch things up. He doesn't want to know. Been trying for like 4 days now."

"I'm sorry. He does seem particularly cranky since you came back from that last case."

"Yeah. Happened while we were out there. I don't even-"

You were interrupted by the sound of shouting from out in the main office. Both you and Garcia looked at each other and wondered who the hell fell out with each other so bad they had to have a screaming match.

Both getting up and wandering down the hall. You just about turned the corner first. But froze in your tracks seeing two people, one with a gun, the other with a briefcase. The woman, with the gun, had the few people that were in the bullring huddled together.

"Shit Garcia go back to your office and lock the door. Call Spence and tell him to stay away. Now!" You whisper shout at her.

"Hey! Put your hands on your head. Get in here Miss now." one of them shouted at you. Not having noticed Garcia as she backed away to her office.

When you didn't move. The seemingly unarmed intruder marched towards you and attempted to grab onto you. As you went to defend yourself. He pulled out a knife and threatened you with it.

"Think very carefully about what you do next." He said lowly.

"What do you guys want. I can help you."

"No you won't. You'll just try and talk me down and I won't let them down again. Get in here or I'm going to make you. And it will hurt."

"What's your name? I'm Y/N. Why are you here? There's no weapons or money stored here. Are you looking for someone?"

"Shut up!" He yelled, you let out a gasp at the sharp pain in your side.

Looking down the blade he was holding embedded in your side. Crumpling down to the floor, you watched as the deep red soaked into your blouse. Spreading across your side.

"What the fuck Darren. You weren't supposed to hurt anyone." A woman came up to the guy and yanked him by his shoulder. "We need to set these charges now and go. Now!"

Charges, that meant explosives.

The pair rushed off and left you bleeding on the floor. Giving you the opportunity to make an escape.

Making it back to Garcias office. You burst through the door, scaring the life out of her.

"Y/N! Oh my god why is there blood. There's a knife hanging out of you."

"Did you speak to Spence?" You asked locking the door behind you.

"Yeah he's in the armory now. They-"

"Call him back! Tell them to abort. Do not come up here!"

"OK, what-why?" She spluttered while calling him back.

"Garcia? Is everything okay. We're just planning how we're going to do this." He answered. You could hear the sound of kevlar being secured. You managed to stumble your way across the room to Garcias desk before your legs gave out.

"Spence, where are you? Do not come up here. And keep people out of the lifts. Do not use them." You panted.

"Y/N are you okay? We haven't left yet. What's going on?"

"I'm fine. I just met the intruders. They're setting charges. Evacuate the rest of the building."

"What? They're going to blow up the building?" Garcia asked, her face paling.

"How big are the explosives?"

"I didn't see. I just managed to get away from them. I did see it was only a small briefcase though."

"That could still be enough to wipe out the whole floor. You need to leave now. Use the far stairwell."

"Garcia, you should go."

"What? I'm not leaving you."

"Both of you go. Now!" Spencer raised his voice.

You shared a look with Garcia, knowing you weren't moving anywhere fast enough.

"We should be okay here," Garcia nodded, "I'll stay with her."

"You're hurt aren't you." Spencer spoke quietly.

"A little bit yeah. Spence, I love you."

"Don't do that. I'm coming to get you."

"No do-" and then the call rang off.

Garcia came and sat next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder.

"I don't get what they were talking about. They said about setting charges. But when the woman saw I'd been stabbed she said they weren't supposed to hurt anyone. How does that make sense." You mutter, starting to feel woozy from the blood loss.

"Unless what they're trying to destroy is paperwork not people," Garcia mused.

"Hotchs office, he keeps loads of important documents in there." You guessed.

"That makes sense. He always takes Sunday's off. So he wouldn't be in there to get hurt."

"Garcia you really should go. Maybe you can get some help." You said quietly. Feeling very lightheaded.

Garcias phone started ringing, answering it she put it on loudspeaker.

"Go ahead. We're just sitting here awaiting our handsome prince's to rescue us."

"Garcia." Spencer answered, "how badly is she hurt? They won't let us get in yet. Not if there's a bomb threat. The whole buildings on lock down. They aren't holding hostages. The other guys from the office have run out already. Are they still there?"

"Woah, woah, woah. One question at a time. Y/N isn't doing great. I don't know what to do Reid. I'm not a doctor. But she's still bleeding."

"What? What happened."

"She got stabbed by one of them. It's still in there but it's-"

"We have to get in there Y/Ns been stabbed. Please. I volunteer to go in. Come on Hotch." He sounded desperate, it made you smile slightly. The irony that it took a near death situation to get him to act like he cared again.

A deafening boom shook the office, jolting you awake.

"Shit was that the-?" You asked.

"I think so." Garcia nodded. "We're okay. Spencer can you hear me?"

You slumped down against Garcias shoulder a bit more. Fighting the urge to fall asleep.

"We saw it. Blown the windows out of Hotch's office as well."

"Tell him..." You trailed off falling into unconsciousness.

Garcia looked at you, panic washing over her. "Y/N? Spencer she's passed out. I don't know what to do- I know I shouldn't take the knife out."

"Is she sat up or laying down?"

"She's sat up, do I lie her down?"

"Yes, don't knock the knife though- I need EMTs with me right now- Garcia, I need you to check if she's breathing." Spencer sounded out of breath, "I'm coming to you as fast as I can."

"Okay, she's laying down. And yes she's breathing."

"You're doing well Garcia. We're seconds away now."

Garcia still let out a scream when the paramedics burst through the door. Stumbling away from your figure, she bumped shoulders with Spencer as the experts dealt with you.

"Do you think she's going to be okay?" Garcia asked him.

"I don't know. But I feel like a prized jackass now. What if she's not? She will have died thinking I was mad at her."

"I don't know what to say Reid. She was trying. She thought you'd stopped trying."

"The argument was stupid. I was more annoyed us arguing had ruined some plans I had."

"Plans? What do you-ohhh." Garcia cut herself off as she clocked onto what Spencer meant.

He quickly pocketed the small jewellery box as the EMT turned to the pair of them.

[delaber]

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that. 

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

[mypoisonedvine]

request for virgin eddie munson who loses his shit over anything and everything reader does

you are speaking my LANGUAGEEEE GOOD GOD

warning: smut, wholesomeness, eddie is down bad

"So... you've really never done this before?" you said, biting your lip. You have no excuse for why it kinda turned you on. Perhaps because it was the last thing you expected from a guy like Eddie... or because you got the feeling you could blow his mind without putting all too much effort into it.

"I-I mean, I've done stuff," he assured, "just... not this, yeah."

"Don't tell me you were saving yourself for the right girl," you joked, and he laughed nervously as he rubbed his palms on the trailer's ratty old couch.

"No," he breathed, "not really, just... never had much luck with girls, I guess."

"Well," you purred as you leaned in closer, running your hand over his chest through the adorable DIY Hellfire shirt, "if you don't mind giving up your virginity, you can get lucky tonight. How's that sound?"

"Uh... pretty much perfect," he laughed thinly.

But what truly sounded perfect was Eddie himself-- the way he moaned, whimpered, even begged for you as soon as you did anything for him. Grinding in his lap, making out and running through your fingers through that beautiful mess of hair... it seemed so easy to drive him crazy, and you loved it.

"Baby," he breathed, "I-- I don't know how much more I can take of this..."

"You've still got your jeans on," you noticed with a smirk.

"Yeah, and you've got your top off-- can't help it," he grinned, "you're gorgeous."

"God, I want you to fuck me," you sighed.

"What are we waiting for, then?" he cooed, running his hands up your bare back.

"W-well, it's just--"

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, "been down this road before-- sorta how I ended up still a virgin by now. But it's fine, we don't have to--"

"No, it's not that!" you interrupted. "I really want to... I just feel kinda weird about being your first."

"Weird, like, you don't want to be?" he asked, concerned.

"Weird, like, not sure why you want it to be me. Are you really sure?" you pressed.

"At this point, doll, I want it to be anybody," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You thought you hadn't shown your disappointment on your face, but he still noticed, and reached up to turn your head towards him when you looked away.

"Hold on, I didn't mean it like that," he promised. "I-I really want it to be you. Specifically-- like, not just any girl. Yes, I would pretty much take 'any girl' by now, as long as she's not, you know, an objectively horrible person, I guess... but oh my god, you..."

He pulled you a little closer, looking right into your eyes, and you had the terrifyingly wonderful thought that this might be more than just casually hooking up. You might have a tiiiny bit of a crush...

"You-- you're... so much better than I ever thought I could do," he continued laughing. "And I never made a big deal out of my first time-- I mean, I wanted it, but I didn't think it had to be special or anything. And it doesn't have to be, especially if you don't want it to be, but... I think it kind of is, more than I expected. Because, honestly, getting lucky with a smokin' babe like you is always gonna be special-- whether it's the first time or the thousandth time."

You kissed him again, a little differently than before; and he pulled you closer, holding you tight and sighing against you.

Before that, you'd imagined 'special' meant sweet, slow, patient-- really romantic stuff. That night, though, Eddie taught you that special could be wild, desperate, and just downright animalistic. Actually, he taught you that lesson repeatedly...

"So... just as special whether it's the first or the thousandth time, huh?" you remembered what he'd said as you both laid back, staring at the ceiling, panting like dogs.

"Yeah," he agreed, to exhausted to say much else.

"How about the second time?"

"The second time was five times ago, sweetheart," he laughed breathlessly.

"No, I mean like... the second date," you explained.

"As long as you give my dick a few days to recover... yeah, it'll be just as special next time."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 10

Kara sets her phone on do not disturb the instant the first unrecognized number flashes across the screen. Keeping hold of Lena's hand, she sits them both on the edge of the bed as she dials the only other person she wants to talk to.

"Kara!" Alex exclaims. Her voice then dims as she turns to call the others. "It's Kara!"

"Hey," Kara says, keeping her voice steady. "You're on speaker. I've got Lena with me."

Lena leans closer to the phone, resting against Kara's side in the process.

"Hi."

"Hi, Lena." As Kara expects, it takes more than a global superstar to faze her sister. "Are you two okay?"

Kara nods. "Yeah. We're okay."

"We're more concerned about you guys." Lena glances at Kara. "I'm worried your family might be pulled into this."

It will only be a matter of time before internet sleuths find Kara's old social media, and for her identity to be shared with the entire world. But where Kara had consented to her relationship with Lena, her sister's family hadn't agreed to be drawn into it along with her.

"We'll be okay," Kelly chimes in.

Lena shakes her head. "Let us send a car. We can get you to a hotel until we see how far they'll dig."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary..."

"But what if it is?" Lena asks softly.

What about Esme, goes unsaid. A long beat of silence passes, and Kara imagines Kelly looking to Alex for guidance, and Alex's own indecision.

"Lena's team has more experience and greater resources to handle this sort of thing," Kara adds. "They can book you guys under fake names, assign security--"

"Security?" Kelly interrupts, her voice laced with fear. "You don't think..."

"We don't know anything at this point," Lena rushes in, doing her best to allay the immediate worry without downplaying the risk. "But I don't think we should assume the best, either."

Alex is the next to speak. To Kara's surprise, her sister doesn't speak to her.

"Lena."

Kara glances at the woman beside her. Lena's features are as somber as Alex's voice sounds, but her brow is creased with thought.

"How bad can this get?"

Lena takes a deep breath.

"I can't say for sure."

While it's not a firm answer, Kara knows Lena isn't sugarcoating anything-- it's just too soon and too volatile to anticipate an outcome with any kind of certainty.

"You've had high profile relationships before," Alex counters.

"Yes," Lena concedes. She takes a breath, shoulders sagging as though in defeat. "But this is different."

Alex makes the connection before Kara does.

"Because you're women."

A jolt travels down Kara's spine. She shoots a glance towards Lena, who looks at her helplessly.

"Yes," Lena confirms. "I've been in relationships with women before, but not publicly."

"Do you intend to hide this one too?"

Lena glances at Kara, cheeks flushing with guilt.

"That decision hasn't been made." That the option is even on the table sends a frission of displeasure through Kara, but Lena's tone-- while conciliatory-- is pragmatic. "But even the implication could make a lot of waves. And if people get angry, and they can't get to us..."

"They'll go after us," Alex finishes for her.

Lena nods, her features mournful. "It's a possibility. Online, in the media, or even picketing..."

Kara knows Alex's decision before she says it.

"Okay." Then, "just until we know more."

"Of course."

Alex sighs over the line. "Any other recommendations?"

"I would limit screen time; things might get... nasty. And the less you see, the less you might be tempted to join the fray."

Kara's thoughts turn to Esme, and as though reading her mind, Lena continues.

"Alex... Kelly... I know you don't know me. But-- I want to protect you and your family as much as I can in this. I wasn't much younger than Esme when all this started for me, and-- I don't want to make this any harder for her than it has to be."

Kara gives Lena's hand a squeeze, prompting Lena to lean a little more of her weight against her shoulder in return.

"Thank you, Lena," Kelly says, voice soft. "We appreciate your guidance on this."

Kara leans forward intently, bringing the phone a little closer.

"Lena's team will coordinate everything," she offers, "and I'll be in touch with more details as soon as I have them. We'll take each day as it comes, and adjust however we need to."

"Kara can send you my number," Lena agrees. "If any of you need anything, at any time, please call me."

"We will," Kelly promises.

Alex sighs. "We should go tell Esme."

Kara bites her lip. "She's seen?"

"Who do you think showed us?"

Shit. Kara's teeth grind in frustration. "Is she upset?"

"Nah. Not really. I think maybe a little hurt that she found out with the rest of the world, but mostly thrilled?" Alex sighs. "I don't know. Teenagers are hard."

That makes Kara chuckle. She wipes a tired hand over her face. Barely an hour had passed since she woke up, but it feels like a lifetime. "Yeah."

"We'll let you two go. Stay safe."

"You too," Kara returns. "We'll be in touch."

[caws5749]

Heyyy I've got a request for dwn:

well more like a prompt...

Y/N and Natty get into an argument and it and...

Y/N: it's a long story

Nat: I thought you were dead for eleven months, I have time.

maybe angry-love-confession?

idk if I requested something similar I know I wanted to but I can't remember wether I did

You're writing us amazing btw :)

Drunk Writing Night-Accepting requests throughout :) thank you to all who sent requests so far!!!

A/N: FINALLY

++++++

After the Accords, things had really gone south. You'd disappeared, along with several of the other avengers. It was a while before you made your way back to the compound, scared you weren't truly safe from the repercussions of not signing.

You hadn't had contact with anyone since leaving, save for the occasional discussion with Steve.

Walking back into the compound was like coming home, but you couldn't help but feel a bit... hollow. Things weren't the same, or they didn't seem so anyway.

You headed straight for the hallway that housed Steve, Natasha, Clint (though he rarely used it), and your rooms. You had only brought a bag back; you hadn't carried much on the run. You stopped at Nat's doorway, hoping to see your favorite Avenger.

"Hey," you said softly, knocking before leaning against the doorframe. You didn't get the welcome you'd been expecting.

"Hey," Nat said quietly after briefly glancing up at you. Her tone was cold, aloof, her gaze hard and calculated.

"Ummm. Okay? How are you?" you tried.

"Fine."

"Natasha, are you mad at me?" you asked, surprised.

"Where have you been?"

"It's a long story," you responded, shifting a bit uncomfortably on your feet.

"I thought you were dead for eleven months," she said quietly, her voice full of quiet anger.

"I wasn't- I- where- why did you think that?" you blurted, eyeing her where she sat on the bed.

"Just go," she muttered, standing as she moved to come close the door.

"No," you retorted, taking a step into the room. "Natasha, what- we were on the run, I mean-"

"You don't get it, do you?" the red-head interrupted harshly. "How scared we- I was? No one heard anything from you. I heard some rumor that you were dead. Can you imagine what that's like?" she finished, and you could have sworn there were tears in her eyes.

"Nat, I-" you tried, stopping when she raised her hand.

"No, you don't get to say anything because you didn't even try-"

"How would you know what I even could do?" you interrupted, anger starting to bubble up inside of you. You stepped closer to her on instinct.

"Don't act like you even car-"

"Are you fucki-"

You were interrupted by plump lips slamming against yours. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't slow; it was harsh, passionate, a need for her. And suddenly, it was a need for you.

When you broke apart a minute later, your forehead rested against hers.

"I need you," Natasha breathed.

And suddenly, you realized you needed her too.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request from @imagine-all-the-fandoms: You have a crush on each other but of course don't talk about it. Then one night you enter the living room all dressed up for a date and buck is totally flashed by you, until you ask for his opinion on it. When he realizes this is for another guy he gets all moody and leaves. Then instead of your date, you head to Bucky's room and decide to finally make a move and kiss him and admit your feelings, which leads to sleeping with him and afterwards lots of cuddles and cute Bucky?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ angsty feelings, some fluff at the end, reader's relationship with an OC, smut, p in v sex without barrier protection, jealous and possessive behavior from Bucky, very minor injury

Bucky Barnes was your best friend. Maybe you might not be his. But how exactly does one compete with Steve Rogers? 

Anyway, that was how you felt. Bucky didn't open up to many people, and you felt honored to be included amongst his few trusted individuals. It had been a year ago that you became part of the Avengers initiative. It hadn't taken you long to be accepted as part of the team, become everyone's favorite confidante, in fact.

There was something about you that people trusted, they would open up to you in a way that they didn't to anyone else. Your charms had even managed to weave their magic over one grumpy super soldier. And he was by far your favorite follower.

It had taken a few weeks before he had given in to your spell, finally admitting his love of pancakes to you during one of your midnight snack quests. It was the first piece of personal information he had shared with you and you always remembered it. In fact you'd joined him for a midnight pancake treat on many occasions since that day.

The way you smiled at him lit up his world. Bucky was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He wasn’t the only one. Objectively, people wouldn’t have described you as the most beautiful person or the hottest, but there was something about you that shone, the expressiveness of your eyes, the kindness in your heart and the unknown bounds of your acceptance of others that drew people to you. Your personality was all anyone saw once they spoke to you and it was stunning.

There were times though, when it all became too much for you, listening to people's problems got a little overwhelming. It was these times that you sought out the company of people you trusted, the people who really saw you for who you were, a slightly nerdy introvert. The list was small; it included Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers and your favorite, James Barnes.

There was something about the solitary supersoldier that intrigued you. He didn't spill his problems to you like others did, you'd had to work very hard at gaining his trust but once you had, you felt like you'd discovered a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Bucky had an unexpected depth and his interests were surprisingly in tune with yours. Steve always seemed to be lost in documentaries when you sat down for down time with him and Nat found joy from horror movies which were far from your taste in cinematography. But Bucky was happy to watch a fantasy or science fiction film with you any time, dawn or dusk.

Bucky enjoyed your interests, but it was your company he enjoyed more. You made him feel comfortable, you didn't ask him intrusive questions, you forgave his selective mutism if he was having a bad day, making no irritating attempts to make him feel happier or better as the other members of the team were so apt to do. No, you let him be himself, in fact, you almost seemed to like his sullen silences.

What he liked the most was that you seemed to be a different person when he was around. You seemed more relaxed, the radiant sunshine demeanor that you exuded became muted, as though you knew that he needed a dimmer switch to help him cope. His scowls were far less ferocious when you were around but woe befell anyone who interrupted or invaded his time with you, his face would become dark and his mood would often turn sour. The only person who he would gracefully accept as an outsider to your pair was Steve. In short, Bucky Barnes was in love with you. Not that he would ever let it show.

The only person who could see Bucky’s feelings for you was Steve. He would smile in a knowing way when he walked in on the two of you laughing together, sharing a plate of nachos. He knew from the way you curled up at Bucky’s side that you harbored similar feelings. The only difference for you is that you had convinced yourself that Bucky couldn’t possibly feel the same way. Friendship was one thing, but you couldn’t imagine that he would want anything more than that. One day, when you had seen a female agent flirting with Bucky and he had smiled back, turned on the 1940’s charm that he apparently was famous for, that was the day you’d decided to put your feelings aside and move on with your life.

It was that decision that led to your current situation. A new dress and fancy heels later, you trotted to the common living area to get your bestie’s opinion. Your makeup was perfect, highlighting your prominent features and Bucky thought you looked radiant as you paraded your dress in front of him, seeking his approval. Naturally, you had it, you always had his approval, it didn’t matter what you were wearing.

“Where are you going all dolled up like that?” Bucky looked you up and down, admiring the view.

“Sidney and I are going out.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. You’ve been hanging out with her a lot. It’s nice that you’re getting along with the other agents too,” he smiled. Bucky was always encouraging of you, even if he would have preferred to keep you all to himself.

You laughed. Bucky usually reveled in the sound, but today he would be wishing he hadn’t heard it at all.

“Bucky!” you swatted his arm playfully. “Sidney is a guy. The guy I’m dating. I’ve told you about this.”

“Yeah, Buck, I did.” You pouted, “were you just pretending to listen?”

“What? No you didn’t.”

“Of course not, you said you were going to minigolf. You were so happy because you won.” Bucky smiled slightly at the memory. How you’d come home with red cheeks from the cold and the joy of winning at minigolf.

“That was our fourth date.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. “Are you dating a woman?” he asked quietly.

“No, Buck. I mean I have, but Sidney isn’t one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbled, processing the information you'd given him.

Your sexual history didn't bother him, it was your present that did. Suddenly Bucky didn't want to look at you. Knowing you'd be spending your time with another man looking the way you did. He hated the thought. He wanted you to dress up for him that way, he wanted to be the one who ripped that pretty little dress off your body, he wanted to be the one who got to kiss you, to touch you, to claim every single part of you. But instead he got to watch another man sweep you off your feet. 

“Well I better finish getting ready.”

You gasped as Bucky stood up suddenly.

“You're unbelievable,” he muttered, a darkness descending across his handsome features.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, angrily.

“Nothing. Go have fun on your date.” Bucky stormed out without a backward glance.

He left you in the living room feeling lost and alone. Tears sprung into your eyes and your enthusiasm for your night out fizzled out completely. You couldn't understand his behavior, the sergeant had always treated you so well. Had you done something to upset him?

The sadness you felt was suddenly overcome with anger. Whatever it was that had upset him, you didn't deserve the attitude he was displaying towards you. In fact, you were going to tell him just that. But first, you picked your phone to make a call.

“Hey Sidney? … Yeah about that. I'm sorry Sidney. I know you went to a lot of trouble organizing tonight. I was really looking forward to it. But something’s come up here. I can't get out of it.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone. Sidney had been understanding, waving off your apology with such grace. On paper, he was the perfect partner for you, he was handsome, he shared so many of your interests and he accepted you for who you were. But you didn't feel butterflies when you thought of him, your face didn't light up when you spoke about him, he didn't fill you with warmth the way Bucky did.

Outrage still bubbled under the surface as you put your phone back on the dressing table in your room, so you decided to address the person who had caused the issue. You marched down the corridor, your stiletto heels clacking angrily as you made your way to Bucky’s room. As you pounded on the door, it flew open just in time for you to fling your hands up protectively as an object hit the wall beside your head.

Bucky’s eyes went wide as he saw the shock on your face. He had been pacing up and down his room and caught sight of a photo of the two of you smiling at each other. He couldn’t bear to see it anymore, to look at you when you didn’t look back at him that way. He had grabbed the photograph, letting it fly away from him in an attempt to extinguish the anguish he felt.

“Wow, do you hate me that much?” you asked. Your anger evaporated as quickly as it had arrived.

Bucky stood, speechless, as you bent down and picked up the smashed photo frame.

“Be careful,” Bucky warned you, as your shoe crushed a piece of broken glass.

“I know how to take care of myself.”

“And going out with some random man who knows nothing about you is what? … safe?”

“Why do you even care, Bucky?”

“You're my friend, you think I want you to get hurt?”

“What makes you think that I need that from you? I mean, if this is what you think of our friendship.” You held up the broken picture frame as a reference to your comment. A single tear slipped down your cheek.

Bucky had the decency to look ashamed of himself, at least that is how you interpreted the look on his face. What you didn't see was the guilt that bubbled under the surface, the devastation at the thought of losing you to someone else.

“He isn't good enough for you.”

You scoffed. “You don't even know him.”

“I don't need to.”

He approached you slowly and stopped right in front of you. If you hadn't spent months getting to know him, you'd be afraid of him, the way his vibranium fist clenched and unclenched repeatedly. But you knew it was a nervous tic of his, not a threatening one.

Bucky bent down and started picking up the shards of glass, then with a low voice, he mumbled something. 

“You deserve to be with someone who knows how special you are.”

Had you heard him correctly? 

You crouched down to help him with the cleaning.

“Leave that, I'll do it.”

“Bucky…” You picked up a small piece of glass between your fingers. “What do you mean?”

“You'll hurt yourself.” He took the glass from you.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist. “Bucky,” you whispered.

But Bucky couldn't look at you, that voice inside his brain that blamed himself for the actions of the Winter Soldier was the same one that often told him that he wasn't good enough for you. How could anyone as bright as you care for someone who held such darkness inside of him? He stood up, hiding his expression from you. 

You sighed, reaching down to pick up one last piece. But you were hurt and careless and the sharp edge sliced your finger, drawing blood, making you hiss with pain.

“I told you to leave it alone!” He grabbed your wrist this time, trying to examine your wound. “This is exactly why I told you not to touch it. It won't hurt me.”

“I don't understand why you're upset.”

“This isn't deep.” He let go of your arm, walking away from you. 

“What do you want from me, Bucky?”

“I don't want you to date him.”

You were surprised but you didn’t let it show on your face. “Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?” Bucky frowned in confusion.

“Yeah.”

“No explanation needed?”

“I want you to be happy. And if this upsets you, I won't date Sidney.” You sighed, you hated that he had this power over you, that you were willing to give up a chance for your own happiness because Bucky said so. But you knew you would do anything for him, even if you ended up being single for the rest of your life. And it was all very overrated anyway, happy relationships, you didn’t know anyone who didn’t have problems with the people they had attached themselves to. Who needed a family, it was all nothing but trouble, you said to yourself.

“I don't want to lose you,” Bucky muttered.

“Bucky, you'll never lose me.” It felt like you were telling him you loved him without using the actual words. Rising up onto your toes, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I care about you, Bucky.”

Bucky brought his hand to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the streak of fluid your tears had left. He leaned in towards you until you could feel his breath against your lips. You opened and closed your mouth, feeling like a goldfish because no sound would come out. The way Bucky was looking into your eyes had rendered you speechless. It almost felt like the love you felt for him was being reflected back at you. You wanted to kiss him but you couldn’t move. His nose brushed lightly against yours and then his lips were pressed against yours. It started out gentle, his mouth against yours, lips moving in tandem, until his tongue sought out yours. The taste of you seemed to ignite a deeper desire inside him because suddenly his arms were wrapped around you, pulling you closer, closer than you’d ever been to him, enveloped in his embrace as his hands roamed over your back, fingers pushing into you through the fabric of your little black dress.

You wrapped your arms tightly around Bucky's neck and as he straightened his back, you were lifted off the floor. The only way for you to support yourself was to wrap your legs around his waist, and Bucky's hands on your ass gave you the encouragement you needed to take this next step. Soon your core was rubbing against his crotch and Bucky stumbled across to the bed, laying you down with surprising tenderness. He knelt down between your splayed legs and smiled at you with an adoring gaze.

“I've wanted this for so long,” he whispered, as though a loud noise might wake him for this dream.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn't you?”

You laughed to yourself, both of you had been so afraid of losing the other that you'd missed out on the happiness you'd sought from each other.

“Do we have to talk about this right now? I want to go back to the kissing,” you pouted.

This earned you one of those rare joyous laughs from him, ones that he often saved for you. You treasured each and every one of these, they were so rare and precious. Bucky captured your protruding lower lip between his teeth, giving it a playful tug before going back to the heated lip lock you'd been engaged in earlier.

Only when he was grinding his hips into yours and moaning that a horrifying thought entered your mind.

“Bucky,” you called his name quietly.

“Mmm?” he hummed, not taking his lips off the spot on your neck that he was sucking enthusiastically.

“Buck… stop.”

There was a pop as the seal of his lips on your neck broke. “Are you okay?”

“I can't…”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky backed away, like he'd been burned. 

“Buck, wait,” you reached for his hand. “I mean, I need to talk to Sidney.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Of course, you have a date.” 

“Bucky, I need to break it off with him before we… I don't want to be that person. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, sitting down beside you as you pulled the straps of your dress back over your shoulder. 

“Can you give me some time to go talk to him?”

Bucky nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak lest his voice betrayed his disappointment. But you knew him well enough to read his face.

“Hey, I'll be back. I promise.” You held out your pinky for him to take.

He smiled and linked his little finger with yours. One of the things he admired most about you was your integrity. You stood up, leaning back for one more quick kiss before you walked away, only letting go of his hand once you both couldn't extend your arms any further. You stole one last look at him before closing the door.

On your way back to your room, you called Sidney, asking him to meet you, before you changed out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. A heavy guilt settled on your chest, you knew you'd be hurting him but you knew you couldn't offer him your whole heart, not when you knew Bucky was at home waiting for you. The next hour was a difficult one for you, you did your best to be gentle and considerate of Sidney’s feelings as you let him down.

“Look Sidney, I’m really sorry about this, I didn’t mean to string you along.”

“But you’re in love with someone else.” Sidney looked at you with a sad smile.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “How do- what makes you say that?”

“It’s the way you talk about Sergeant Barnes,” he said knowingly.

“I’m sorry.” You turned your head to hide the tears threatening to escape.

“He’s a lucky man.” Sidney leant down and gave you a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you around.”

You sighed as you made your way back home, still feeling a little deflated about what you’d just done. But a promise was a promise and you didn’t want to keep Bucky waiting. It was the thought of Bucky that stopped you dragging your feet but you made a pitstop in your room to freshen up your makeup.

Before you knew it, you were back outside Bucky’s door and you were pretty certain your heart skipped a beat as you knocked nervously. What if he had changed his mind?

There clearly wasn’t cause for concern because Bucky opened the door so fast, you wondered if he had just been standing on the other side waiting for you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and scooped you into his chest, shutting the door with the edge of his foot. 

Bucky kissed you as though he hadn’t seen you in years and you melted into him with a sigh.

“You were gone too long,” he pouted. “I missed you.”

“You okay?” he asked, a tinge of concern in his voice as he ran his thumb along your jaw. “I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

He was right, it hadn’t been easy for you to break off your relationship with Sidney. You never enjoyed hurting other people. You made time for people’s problems, even when you were exhausted, always ready to lend that extra helping hand. Your generosity of spirit was another reason that Bucky admired you. It made you smile, the way he understood your feelings without you having to explain them to him.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Being with Bucky seemed to make your problems disappear and your feelings for him surged to the surface. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, nuzzling your ear and peppering the side of your neck with tiny kisses.

“Yeah, glad to be here with you,” you hummed, enjoying the way his skin felt against yours.

“You sure you haven't got any more men stashed away that I need to know about?” he mumbled.

You pulled away slightly, just to look him directly in the eye so he knew the sincerity of your next words. “No secret stash. Only you.”

“Just me?” Bucky put his hands on cheeks, putting his fingers under your jaw to tilt your face up to look at him.

“I'm all yours, Bucky.”

You leaned up, puckering your lips for a kiss and he obliged. Locked at the mouth, he led you backwards until your heels hit the edge of the bed. 

“Tell me again,” he growled, pushing his chest against you til you were falling backwards onto the mattress.

Only your fall wasn't uncontrolled, Bucky's strong hands had settled on you back and he guided your descent. You grabbed the front of his Henley in your hands and pulled him down on top of you. 

“Yours,” you claimed his lips hungrily.

“That's right, mine,” his voice rasped, making you tingle with anticipation.

He pushed his hips against yours, grinning proudly as you moaned in approval.

“You like that, huh?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you heard his belt unbuckling, hearing a clang as it fell onto the floor. He pushed his hand under the seam of your leggings and slid it between your legs. A wanton moan left your mouth as you felt his fingers rubbing on your clothed core.

"Look at you, Doll. You're so fucking wet...and I haven't even touched you yet." Bucky’s voice was low and rumbled through you like thunder.

He wiggled his fingers under your panties and between your folds, smirking into your neck and a gasp escaped your lips. Before you knew it, your eyes were rolling back as his fingers stroked your pussy.

“Bucky,” you whined as his fingers delved deeper. 

It barely registered as his vibranium fingers pulled down your leggings and joined its flesh twin on your clit. Your breathing quickened to match the pace that he was pushing his fingers into you. Every push had you uttering a quiet sigh as he caressed your walls.

“So wet,” he hummed. “I’m the only one who can touch you like this. The only one who can make you feel like this, right?” 

“Only you, Bucky.”

Before you could enjoy Bucky’s fingers more, they left your body. You whimpered at the loss. His hands went to the fabric around your waist, tugging it down until it was off completely and he used his hands to open your legs further. You tried not to gawk at him as he removed his clothes, layer by layer. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t seen Bucky shirtless before, but watching him strip between your spread legs was making you melt. He knelt down at your core, hands ripping apart your bra before kneading your breasts and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. You moaned out when Bucky pinched your nipples harshly.

“Nothing but you,” you repeated, biting your lip with anticipation.

“Doll, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll completely forget who Sidney ever was. I’ll give you my love until you’re satisfied. You’ll think of nothing but me.”

“Good. Now let’s make sure that you will never be able to look at that man again without thinking of this moment," Bucky groaned as he began to nibble on your neck.

His lips sucked and nibbled at your skin, marking his territory. He tugged his underwear down his thighs, using his other hand to line his cock up with your entrance. Slowly and sensually, he rubbed his tip against you, getting lost in his own pleasure for a moment, forgetting to remind you who you belonged to. Loud moans escaped your mouth as he slammed into you with hardly any warning. 

"Fuck, you're so tight, Doll,” Bucky groaned into your ear. “Feel so good.”

Bucky lifted your legs up onto his chest so your calves rested on his shoulders. He pulled your hips into his and started pushing into you repeatedly, almost mercilessly.

“Sidney only wishes that he could fuck you like this,” he leaned over so his face was up close to yours. “But no one will ever fill you up like I can. No one can make you feel good the way I can. You’re mine, Doll, only for me to have.”

“Buc-” you breathed, barely able to speak.

“What are you?”

“Yours Sergeant, I’m all yours. Promise. Yours. Only yours!” you repeated over and over.

Desperate for your release, you reached down to your clit.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bucky growled. “You come on my cock screaming my name or you don’t come at all.”

Bucky leaned forwards til his face was inches from yours, bending your legs right up to your chest.

"You feel that, Doll? You feel how I fill you up?" Bucky demanded.

You nodded, unable to speak at first. Eventually you gasped out the words, "I feel you, Bucky.”

"And could he ever make you feel as good as I make you feel?" Bucky asked before going back to fucking you hard and fast.

"No Bucky, never,” you moaned.

You could feel your orgasm approaching far more rapidly than normal and Bucky had gone back to marking his territory with his lips on your skin. It almost burned where he was sucking against your clavicle.

“Bu- Buck-”

“Yeah?” He slowed to respond to your attempts at his name. 

His lips were only inches away from yours. All you wanted was to meet them, but instead, Bucky bit your lip harshly, making you throw back your head in pleasure as he kept sucking on you.

"That's what I want to hear," Bucky cooed as he finally kissed you.

He buried his face into your breasts as his thrusts became more frantic. His hands snaked around your waist, a surprisingly soft action for all the roughness he’d displayed up until this point. The moans he released into your ear alone would make you come. The feeling of his balls slapping against your ass, cock diving deep inside of you, sent you spiraling.

“Bucky!” You muttered his name, unable to focus on anything but the way his cock and hands worked your body, filling you to the brim. Pleasure completely overwhelming your mind and body.

“That’s right, Doll. You were made for me.”

“Please, Bucky, I want to come!” There was nothing that could stop the cry that leaves your lips, you needed it so badly, you wanted him so badly. 

“Do it already,” Bucky goaded. “Come for me. Come because I want you to.”

“Yes Bucky, yes!” You as his words finally pushed you over the edge, his name leaving your lips as you finally reached your peak.

The only thing you could think of was his cock thrusting inside you. Your pussy clenched and tightened around his cock making him release with a grunt and a moan as he coated you in his seed. He stayed inside you, catching his breath, playing with your hair, looking into your eyes with such complete adoration that it almost took your breath away. At least until he pulled out of you slowly, making his cum spill out of you and drip across your abdomen.

“You did such a good job, Doll,” Bucky whispered to you as he softly kissed your forehead. “My pretty girl. You rest now, let me clean you up.”

You pushed yourself up the bed, trying to avoid spilling his seed all over the clean bed sheets. Bucky reappeared quickly with a washcloth and started wiping himself off your skin, parting your legs gently and cleaning over your folds.

“Bucky, I-” you reached out to stop him, suddenly feeling incredibly self conscious about this new level of intimacy. “You don't have to.”

Bucky sat down beside you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Let me take care of you,” he murmured, voice filled with tenderness.

He finished up and lay down beside you, giving you one of his looser fitting t-shirts which you slipped over your head gratefully. You tucked yourself into his side and rested your head on his shoulder, sighing as his fingers fluttered over your thighs and over the curve of your ass.

“Was that okay?” he whispered into your hair, his warm breath blowing against the bare skin on your neck.

“It was amazi-.” You started answering but your voice was interrupted by a loud growl from your stomach.

“Still hungry, huh?”

You blushed, hiding your face in his warm sturdy chest.

“Want to grab some dinner. Can't have my best girl starving.”

A warmth spread through you at his words. “Maybe in a bit? I don't want to move yet. Is that okay?” You looked up at him. 

He smiled down at you, placing a small kiss at the tip of your nose. “Perfect.”