#it's just been a slow and unrelenting weight building up on my shoulders

[parakeetpark]

The agonising wait when your loved one is in surgery is truly something. Then the emotional jetlag after, when they're in intensive care, and they're still not out of danger but it's less... is another something.

Holy shit as I was typing this we got called and they're awake and we got to talk for a few minutes

[lelengerine]

pairing. jaemin x reader

synopsis. what do you do when your feelings for your best friend start becoming not-so-platonic anymore?

genre. childhood best friends to lovers au, just jaemin realizing his feelings, pls imagine them living in a small town near the beach 🙂‍↕️, gender neutral reader, lmk if there's anything that was missed!

wc. 1.2k words

notes. inspired by holyland - wave to earth! such a good song and i highly suggest reading this while it plays as bgm >< this won the poll i had up yesterday so yay! likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the sand as you and jaemin walked side by side, the rhythmic crash of waves the only sound filling the silence between you. the air was warm, a soft breeze tugging at your clothes, and your laughter echoed across the empty stretch of beach as you nudged him with your shoulder.

“come on, jaem, you’re still so slow,” you teased, jogging ahead a few steps, turning to face him with that playful grin he’d grown so fond of. you never changed, he thought. always light, always glowing, even when the rest of the world felt heavy.

jaemin’s steps slowed, and he watched as you spun around in the sand, your arms outstretched like a child, completely carefree. the sight of you bathed in the fading sunlight—hair tousled by the breeze, your face flushed from the sea air—did something to him. there was a pull, a weight pressing on his chest that he couldn’t shake. he stopped in his tracks, eyes tracing the curve of your smile, the way your laughter rang through the air, unburdened and effortless.

maybe i’ve been walking along with grief… can’t find the love within my heart.

how long had it been like this? how long had he been chasing after things that didn’t matter, only to realize that what he wanted most had been right beside him all along? the realization settled over him like a wave, gentle yet unrelenting, washing away the distractions he’d been clinging to. 

he was in love with you.

the thought hit him with a clarity that left him breathless. all those moments—sharing late-night snacks, lying under the stars, trading inside jokes that only the two of you understood—he hadn’t realized what they truly meant until now. jaemin’s chest tightened, a quiet fear gnawing at him. what if he’d already lost his chance? what if you didn’t feel the same way?

“jaemin?” your voice broke through his thoughts, a soft question laced with concern. you’d stopped spinning, eyes wide as you tilted your head at him. “you okay?”

he blinked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, i’m fine.” but even as he said it, the words felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to him.

you moved closer, the sand crunching under your feet. “you’re so weird today,” you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice, but there was something more—something searching, like you knew there was more to his silence.

jaemin’s gaze drifted away from yours, back toward the horizon where the sun was sinking lower, its golden light reflecting off the water’s surface. he swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. how was he supposed to say it? how could he put into words everything that had been building inside him without unraveling the delicate balance of your friendship?

can you settle down my soul? and take me back to the days of old with you.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s just… i don’t know. being here makes me think about a lot of stuff.”

you raised a brow, folding your arms over your chest as you took a seat in the sand, motioning for him to join you. “stuff like what?”

jaemin hesitated, the weight of his confession hanging on the tip of his tongue. he dropped down beside you, his fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes in the sand. “stuff like… how things have changed. how i’ve changed.” his voice was quieter now, laced with uncertainty.

you didn’t say anything, just waited patiently, eyes locked on him, like you were giving him all the space he needed to figure out what he wanted to say. and maybe that’s why it was so hard—because you always knew him so well. you could see past his smiles, his jokes, even his silence.

i’m laying in the grass, a daydream in the sun… i’m back inside your peace.

he’d always thought that was enough—just being close to you, being your best friend, the person you turned to when the world felt too big or too lonely. but somewhere along the way, that had changed for him. being near you wasn’t enough anymore. he wanted more, craved it in a way that scared him.

“i’ve been thinking about us,” jaemin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder would make the truth too real. “about what we mean to each other.”

you tilted your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “we’re best friends, jaem. we’ve always been.”

he nodded, but his chest tightened. that was exactly it—best friends. the words felt too small, too limiting for what he felt. “i know. but… i think i’ve been lying to myself about what that means for a long time.”

your brow furrowed, confusion clouding your expression. “what do you mean?”

jaemin’s breath hitched, and he could feel his heart racing, the fear clawing at him again. but he couldn’t hide it anymore—not from you, not from himself. “i think i’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

the confession spilled out, unplanned and raw, leaving him feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way he’d never felt before. his eyes darted to yours, searching for any sign of how you might respond. would you laugh it off, tell him he was imagining things? or worse—would you pull away, leaving a gap between you that couldn’t be bridged again?

oh, holyland… watch your breeze take over me, just like we used to be.

but you didn’t laugh. you didn’t pull away. instead, your gaze softened, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. the sound of the ocean, the distant cries of seagulls, even the wind—everything fell silent as you stared at him, your lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

“jaemin…” you finally whispered, your voice tender, unsure. “why didn’t you ever tell me?”

he laughed weakly, the tension easing just a little as he shrugged. “because i was scared, i guess. scared of losing you.”

a silence hung between you, but it wasn’t heavy—it was contemplative, like both of you were trying to find the right words in a sea of emotions that had been unspoken for too long.

let me float in your arms… so come back to me.

then, you reached for him, your fingers brushing his. the simple touch sent warmth through his entire body, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t pulling away. not this time.

“i’ve been waiting,” you admitted, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “waiting for you to say something. because i think… i’ve felt the same for a while too.”

his heart soared, a quiet joy settling into the spaces that had once been filled with doubt. he couldn’t help but smile—a real one this time—as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the waves lapped at the shore behind you. the weight he’d been carrying for so long seemed to dissolve, leaving only the warmth of your embrace and the quiet certainty that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of pink and gold, jaemin knew with unwavering clarity that whatever came next, he was ready. as long as it was with you.

[lifeofpriya]

Boyfriend of the Year - Jack Draper imagine

[gif credit goes to @fritzes]

author's note: hellooooo! i wanted to try my hand at writing something for a tennis beloved and well, here we are! quick shoutout to @2manytabsopen for introducing me to this adorable dork and yeah, i hope y'all enjoy this as much i enjoyed writing this fic 🫶🏼

summary: a tough day from work leads to a night of love and spoiling...

As soon as you sat down on the bench at the nearest bus stop near your workplace, the dam of the tears held back all day burst open. The cool evening breeze brushed against your damp cheeks, bringing a shiver as your shoulders convulsed in silent sobs. The day had been particularly harsh, leaving you drained and defeated. The café where you worked had been busier than usual, with a never-ending stream of customers and a broken espresso machine that seemed to have a vendetta against you. Your boss had been in one of her moods, barking orders and expecting perfection as if you were a robot, not a human being with feelings. The weight of your world felt unbearable in the quiet solitude of the evening.

Jack's call had come like a beacon of light in the storm. "Hey, love," he said, his voice a warm embrace over the phone. “Wait, why are you crying, sweetheart?"

You tried to hold it together, but the words tumbled out in a jumbled mess. "It's… it's been such a day, Jack. The machine broke down, and the customers were just… unrelenting. And Regina, she was…" You didn't need to say more; Jack knew Regina's reputation for making the sunniest days feel like a downpour.

Jack's voice grew firm but gentle. "I'm on my way. Stay put. I'll be there soon." He hung up, and you felt a glimmer of hope in the pit of your stomach. You leaned your head against the cool glass of the bus shelter, watching the world blur by in streaks of light and shadow as cars passed by. The scent of freshly cut grass from a nearby lawn wafted over, mingling with the faint aroma of someone's takeout. The distant hum of the city provided a soothing white noise to your racing thoughts.

Fifteen minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up beside the bus stop. The passenger door swung open, and Jack's athletic frame filled the space, his eyes scanning the area until they found you. He stepped out, his tennis shoes thudding against the pavement, and in three long strides, he was by your side, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was strong and comforting, like a lighthouse guiding you to safety. He smelled faintly of sweat and grass, a reminder of the hours he spent on the court that afternoon, but it was the scent of home and love that you focused on as you buried your face into his chest.

"Hey," he whispered, stroking your hair gently. "Let's get you out of here."

Jack guided you into the car, his hand never leaving your back as he settled you into the plush leather seat. The car's interior smelled faintly of his cologne, a scent that was uniquely his, and it helped to ease the tension in your body. He closed the door with a soft click and circled around to the driver's side. As he slid in beside you, he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purr like a contented cat came to life. The car's heated seats began to warm up, and you felt the first stirrings of comfort spread through your cold body.

Jack reached over and took your hand, giving it a squeeze before shifting gears and pulling out into the evening traffic. The city lights reflected in his eyes as he focused on the road ahead, his jaw set in determination to get you home as quickly as possible. You watched the scenery pass by, the blur of buildings and people becoming a soothing panorama that seemed to match the rhythm of your slowing heartbeat. The leather seats were still warm from the day's sun, and you leaned into them, letting the comfort seep into your bones.

As the car glided through the streets, Jack began to talk, sharing the details of his own day on the tennis courts. His voice was low and soothing, the words a gentle stream that washed over you. You found yourself smiling through the tears as he recounted a particularly hilarious mishap during his training session, his laughter echoing in the car. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of your hand, sending waves of warmth up your arm. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a promise that everything would be okay.

The ride home was a blend of comforting silence and casual banter, Jack occasionally glancing over to check on you, his eyes filled with concern. When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, the reality of the day's events began to creep back in, but Jack's presence was a shield against the gloom. He helped you out of the car, your legs feeling like jelly after the emotional rollercoaster of the day. The sound of your shoes on the sidewalk was the only noise that broke the serenity of the evening.

\\\

Once inside the apartment, Jack led you to the couch, his hand never leaving the small of your back. He grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table and sat down next to you, handing you a few. You took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes and nose, feeling the warmth of his body beside you. The apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of dinner that he must have ordered while you were on the phone. It smelled like your favorite Italian place, with hints of garlic and tomato sauce.

"Jack, you didn't have to," you murmured, trying to protest, but he shushed you with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Now, tell me everything."

You sighed, the weight of the day's troubles slowly lifting as you recounted the endless list of disasters at work. The broken machine, the unreasonable customers, and the relentless pressure from your boss. Jack listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, nodding along as if he could feel every ounce of your frustration. His empathy was palpable, a silent understanding that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

As you spoke, he reached over and gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. His touch was tender, and for a moment, you forgot about the chaos of the day. "It's okay," he said, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're safe here."

Jack stood up and walked over to the kitchen, returning with two steaming plates of pasta. He set one down in front of you, the cheese bubbling and the garlic bread crunchy on the side. The sight of food was almost comical, given your emotional state, but the comfort it represented was undeniable. "Eat," he urged, handing you a fork. "You'll feel better."

You took a bite, the warm, saucy goodness filling your mouth and stomach. The taste was heavenly, and with each chew, the tension in your shoulders lessened. You watched as Jack took a bite of his own, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he chewed thoughtfully, his eyes focused on you, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

As you ate, Jack began to outline a plan for the rest of the evening. "We're going to have a little at-home spa night," he declared, his voice filled with excitement. "Bubble bath, face masks, the works."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Jack, you don't have to do all this."

He squeezed your hand. "I know, but I want to. You deserve it after the day you've had."

Jack cleared the dinner plates away and led you to the bathroom, which had been transformed into a sanctuary of tranquility. The room was suffused with the scent of lavender and vanilla, courtesy of the candles flickering on the shelves and the bath bomb dissolving in the water. He'd drawn you a bath with bubbles that rose like a cloud around you, the water a perfect temperature that made you want to sink in and never leave.

He helped you out of your work clothes, his touch careful and loving, as if handling something fragile. You stepped into the tub, the warmth enveloping you instantly. The bubbles tickled your skin, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as you sank deeper into the water.

Jack knelt beside the tub, his hand holding yours. "Just relax," he murmured, his eyes filled with so much love it was almost tangible. “I’ll go grab the face masks. You’re going to pamper yourself until you’re all smiles again, okay?"

You nodded, watching as he left the room. The sound of his footsteps grew faint before returning with a soft patter. He set a tray on the floor beside the tub, laden with face masks, a glass of sparkling water, and a chocolate bar. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it all. "Jack, you're too much," you said, but the joy in your voice was undeniable.

He handed you a face mask and grinned. "No such thing as too much pampering after a day like today." He sat down on the edge of the tub, his knees bent, and carefully applied the mask to your face. His touch was gentle, his fingers lingering on your skin, making sure it was applied evenly. You felt the coolness of the mask begin to warm, tingling slightly as it worked its magic.

Jack leaned back against the wall, his arms around his bent legs, watching you with a soft smile. "You know," he said, "I've had my fair share of bad days on the court. The kind where nothing seems to go right, and you just want to throw your racket against the ground."

You chuckled through the face mask, the sound muffled but genuine. "It's not quite the same, but I get it."

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's all about the comeback, though. You'll have a better day tomorrow. And if you don't, well, we'll just have to do this again." He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

The minutes ticked by as you soaked in the warmth, feeling the tension in your muscles melt away. The flickering candles cast a soft glow over the room, making the bubbles dance in the light. The sound of the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub was hypnotic, lulling you into a state of relaxation.

Jack leaned over and kissed your forehead. "You look like you're already feeling better," he said, his voice filled with hope.

You managed a small smile. "Thanks to you."

Jack stood up and handed you the glass of sparkling water. "Drink up," he said. "It's important to stay hydrated, especially after a crying marathon." He winked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. The bubbles popped around you as you took a sip, the cold liquid feeling refreshing against your dry throat.

\\\

After a while, he helped you out of the tub, wrapping you in a plush bathrobe that smelled like fresh laundry, and handed you one of his hoodies and sweatpants before he briefly left the bathroom to give you privacy as you changed. You carefully removed the face mask and discarded it. When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Jack had set up a cozy space on the bed with fluffy pillows and blankets. The TV was playing a favorite sitcom on low volume, providing a gentle background of laughter and familiarity.

He sat beside you, unfurling a face mask for himself. "Solidarity," he said with a grin, placing it over his features. The sight of him in a pink, glittery mask made you laugh out loud, despite the lingering sadness. It was a welcome release of tension.

You settled into the bed, the plushness of the pillows cradling your weary body. The soft fabric of the hoodie was heaven against your skin, and the warmth of the blankets enveloped you like a cocoon. As the sitcom played, you both lay there, the sound of your breathing synced in a comforting rhythm. The TV's glow painted the room with soft, shifting colors, and the laugh track grew fainter as your eyes grew heavier.

Jack reached over and took your hand again, his fingers lacing through yours. His touch was grounding, a reminder that you weren't alone. "Better?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the weight of the day's troubles slowly lifting. "Much better," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. The warmth of his hand was a lifeline, pulling you back to the present.

Jack leaned over and gently kissed your cheek. "Good," he said, his smile visible even through the face mask. "Now, let's get to the serious part of the evening." He grabbed the chocolate bar from the tray and broke off a piece, holding it to your lips. You took a bite, the sweetness spreading over your tongue, the sugar rush bringing a spark of energy to your drained body.

You laid there, side by side, munching on chocolate and watching the sitcom, the laughter from the TV mixing with Jack's occasional snort of amusement. His hand remained in yours, his thumb making lazy circles that sent bolts of comfort through you. The scent of the candles and the clean, fresh smell of the bubble bath clung to the air, creating a cocoon of peace that seemed to push the rest of the world away.

As the show went on, you found yourself dozing off, the rhythmic sound of Jack's breathing and the softness of the pillow beneath your head lulling you into a much-needed nap. When you woke up, the TV had been turned off, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jack was gone, but the warmth from his side of the bed remained, like a memory of his presence.

You rolled over to find him sitting at the small desk, scribbling something on a notepad. The sight of his focused expression made you smile. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

Jack looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Just writing down some thoughts," he said, tapping the pad with his pen. "Ideas for your birthday surprise."

Your heart fluttered at the mention of your birthday, which was just a week away. Jack had been planning something special, but he had been tight-lipped about the details. "Jack, you really don't have to—"

"Shh," he said, holding up a finger. "It's a surprise. But trust me, you're going to love it."

You watched him for a moment longer, his concentration unbroken, before letting out a content sigh and snuggling deeper into the blankets. The warmth of the room was like a cocoon, the scent of the candles lingering gently in the air. Your eyes grew heavy again, and you closed them, feeling the last remnants of the day's stress begin to dissipate.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Ruin Me.

Chris Evans “When I get there, I’m going to ruin you.” For @thereisa8ella​

“When I get there, I’m going to ruin you.”

Those are the only words he left in the voicemail you’ve just picked up after getting out of your late-night bath, needing an activity to remain awake for his anticipated 1am arrival there at home. You’re always so riddled with longing for one another when he’s been away filming, this time no exception.  

You’re in the kitchen pouring a glass of wine when you hear his key in the door, taking a sip of your drink before rushing to greet him.  

“There’s my baby,” he says with relieved happiness, shrugging off his jacket before catching you in his strong arms. “God, I missed you.” It’s all hunger from that moment on, Chris kissing you as he walks you back against the hallway wall, hands massaging your thighs while holding your legs open, pushing himself closer between them, his hardening cock hot at your apex.  

You drink him in, the feel and taste of his mouth, his scent, the way his big body crushes against yours so thoroughly, your arousal throbbing through you, a tight wind in your core begging for the satiation only he can offer. He instigates that by pinning you to the wall using the weight of his chest, letting go with one arm to push between your legs and deftly stroke at your sex, fingertips circling at your clit while he sucks your tongue with a ravenous groan.  

“Fuck, you’re soaking.” He growls, his hand dampened by your arousal, fingers skimming with ease through your folds, sinking inside you, filling the hallway with the sexual noise of invading you deeply, mouth at your neck as you cry out, the press of his cock hard at your thigh.  

You begin to pull at his clothes, Chris placing you down as you remove his t shirt, shedding your nightie while unfastening his jeans keenly, your mouths locked together once more in hot, syrupy kisses, pulling him back through the open doorway to the lounge as he steps out of his jeans and boxers, pressing his nakedness to yours before turning and pushing you over the back of the sofa.  

“Oh...god!” You wail, his cock sliding into you effortlessly, heat crackling through you as he fills where you’ve been empty and aching for him for so long,  

It feels like he’s turning you inside out with the relentless assiduity of each thrust, driving into you hard, hips rutting against you with immediate relentlessness, no slow build, just a greedy need to rail you unleashed.  

Lifting yourself slightly tilts you a better angle, your depths now attainable to him as he aligns and sinks into you to the hilt, groaning almost helplessly as his skin smacks against yours, fingers grasping your waist and holding you, preventing your ascent over the back of the sofa.  

The heat of the moment sizzles like a tempest, your bodies pounding together with furious intent, the rhythm of his cock making you catatonic, sending you reeling, your mouth agape as you scream your pleasure, Chris going faster and faster still, hips disengaging as each stroke becomes unfettered.  

The chase of your release is unrelenting, the pleasure breaking over you in a wave, swirling, crashing, consuming and relentless in its power. Your rigid body finally relaxed, aware of his head resting down between your shoulders as he pants against your back.  

Yes. When he said he would ruin you, he meant it.  

[javier-pena]

reverberate

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: Explicit (yes, that does mean no minors)

Summary: Javi shows you a secret spot.

Warnings: skinny-dipping | fingering | dirty talk | semi-public sex | daddy kink

Notes: This is part of @autumnleaves1991-blog​’s Writer Wednesday, which means I wrote it in two hours and Dani didn’t beta it, which means it’s full of impossibly long sentences and a lot of embarrassing typos. This is also my first time participating in Writer Wednesday and I had so much fun, I will definitely be doing it again in future!

***

Javi likes to surprise you. He likes to pick an outfit for you, to pack your bag for you, to tell you what shoes to bring, and you never know where you’re going to end up. He took you to Paris once and you had no idea where you were going until you spotted the Eiffel Tower from the plane. Another time, he took you to a nice, secluded restaurant in the mountains from where you watched the sunset together while you shared a bottle of the best wine you’ve ever had.

Today, he picks a light sundress for you, then sails his yacht to a part of the island you’ve never been to. From the sea, you can see mansions and private beaches, but it all has a run-down look to it, and once you come past abandoned shipwrecks you begin to feel uneasy. But then he anchors the yacht and leads you up the cliffs to an old, abandoned house that – he tells you – used to be a luxury hotel.

“Are you planning on buying it?” you tease him.

But he only smiles at you mysteriously.

Taking your hand in his, he leads you further inside the ruins that are overgrown with heavy, green trailing plants. He tells you to watch your step but guides you safely around the building as if this isn’t his first time here. You only stop once to gape at a chandelier twice your size lying on its side in the grand ballroom, as Javi calls it.

But your destination lies in a courtyard in the middle of the complex. It’s hidden from all sides by walls, empty windows gazing down at the two of you, as Javi puts down the heavy bag and makes a sweeping gesture. “We’re here,” he announces.

Your eyes immediately fixate on the pool that takes up most of the courtyard. The light blue color of its water is inviting after the hot climb up the cliffs. Javi follows your gaze.

“Go on then,” he says. “It’s why we’re here.”

You ask him to hand you a swimsuit from the bag he’s brought, but he only shrugs. “I’m sorry, baby, I think I forgot to bring one for you.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes as he says it, and you’re only too happy to accept it. You pull your dress over your head, unclasp your bra, and pull down your panties until you’re completely naked. He takes a step towards you, his mouth slightly open, but before he can say something or touch you, you take off and jump into the cool water with a loud splash that echoes around the abandoned hotel. You keep your head underwater for a while, enjoying the quietness, and when you come back up, Javi is there in front of you, his wet curls clinging to his forehead, as he runs a hand over his face to get the water out of his eyes.

He’s also naked.

“They say these ruins are haunted, you know,” he teases, a smirk on his face, as he swims towards you, his strong arms and broad shoulders cutting through the water as if it was air.

“Haha,” you reply dryly, kicking the water much less gracefully to move away from him.

“Not by ghosts,” he moves on. “This isn’t a cold, English marsh. I’m talking about mermaids, temptresses that lure men to their deaths with beautiful faces and beautiful songs.”

He drives you towards the edge of the pool until your back connects with the cold, hard stone. While you’re still trying to decide whether to go left or right, he already has you trapped with his arms caging you in, gripping the edge while pushing you even further towards the stone digging into your back. You lower your feet to discover that the water is shallow enough to stand, so you try to find a firm stance on the slippery floor.

“If you’re very quiet, you can hear their songs,” he whispers into your ear, his hot breath tickling your wet skin.

“Javi, stop it,” you giggle and try to push him away.

“Are you scared?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Why should I be?” you challenge with a toss of your head. “I have you to protect me.”

“No,” Javi answers, pretending to be thinking about it while he moves even closer to you, until you can feel his naked body press up against yours. “I’m a man. They’re after me. If anything, I need you to protect me.”

“Would you fall that easily for another woman’s charms?” you tease.

“They are supernatural beings,” he explains. “I couldn’t be expected to resist them.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “And I could?”

“Well, I’m a great catch,” he answers with a shrug.

You swat his arm playfully. “Don’t overdo it,” you tell him sternly.

His expression changes then. His smile falters, his cheeks hollow, the vein on his throat, the one you love to kiss while he’s above you, pushing into you over and over, bulges dangerously. There is lightning in his eyes as they darken, as the muscles in his arms tense from gripping the stone behind you. Then the full weight of his body presses against you, solid and hard and strong. You try to draw back, you try to escape, and then his hand closes around the nape of your neck.

“Don’t I always take care of you?” he asks. “Don’t I make sure you have everything you need?

“You do,” you reply, trying to nod, but his grip is too tight.

“Don’t I buy you nice things? Don’t I take you out whenever you ask me to?”

“You do,” you repeat, squirming in his grip.

“Say it then,” he demands, his grip tightening.

“Yes.” Your eagerness loses some of its meaning when it’s just this word hanging in the air between you. “Whatever you want me to say, Javi.”

You feel something tickle your leg and it takes you a few moments to figure out what it is. Everything feels different in the water, slower, softer, like moving in slow motion through cotton candy. But there is no doubt about what he’s doing when he grips one of your legs and pulls, pulls until there is room for his strong hand, his thick fingers, and he buries two of them inside of you.

You let out a hoarse moan, one that echoes around the ruin, amplified by the old walls. Your arms shoot out of the water to grip the edge of the pool at the same time as your legs loop around Javi’s torso.

“Look at you,” he says, curling his fingers upwards, stroking that one spot inside of you until you tighten around him. “Always so eager.”

He lets go of the back of your neck and your head falls back immediately, your eyes wide open. There is a blue, cloudless sky above you, seagulls flying overhead, chasing each other, but you don’t see them, you don’t see anything, you just feel, feel Javi pulling his fingers out of you slowly, pushing them back in, pulling them out again, once, twice, three times, until your legs are shaking.

“So, tell me,” he says in a casual tone of voice as if this is a business negotiation, “tell me what I want to hear.

“God, you’re amazing, Javi,” you pant, his name followed by a hiss as his thumb brushes against your clit.

“I think you can do better,” he says thoughtfully, considering your face with mild interest.

You lift your head so you can look at him, watch him run his free hand through his wet curls before it comes to rest against your hip, brushing small circles against your wet skin.

“You’re always so good to me,” you go on, pushing up your hips, but he removes his thumb from your clit.

Before you can protest, there’s a third finger inside of you, and this time you scream, a roar that reverberates around you and scares away two birds on the roof of the ruin who take off with an angry flutter of wings.

“You’re always so tight, baby,” he observes with a grunt. “Always thinking about my cock inside of you, aren’t you?”

You don’t have to reply. At his words, you tighten around him again involuntarily, imagining what it would be like to have him inside you right now, what it would be like to have your chest shoved up against the stony side of the pool, what it would be like for his hand on your neck, your back, your hip, holding you in place, while he fucks you, the only sounds your breathy, desperate moans and the steady sloshing of the water. Your eyes close at this image, at imagining how full you’d feel, how stretched, and suddenly you feel it, the familiar tingling in your lower belly.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

His fingers are gone as suddenly as he pushed them inside in the first place, and you let out an embarrassing, frantic sob. But you compose yourself fast enough with a steadying breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, licking your lips. “Yes, I always think about your cock inside of me.” You move your hips under the water, move them closer to his middle until you can feel it, feel how hard he is. A roll of your hips elicits a delicious grunt from him, a repetition of the movement a low growl. “Do you want to put it inside of me, daddy?”

He stills your hips with an unrelenting grip before his fingers are back inside of you, stretching you open, stroking against a spot you can never reach when you do this yourself, when you try to pretend your fingers are his.

“Later, baby girl,” he says, his voice sweet like honey. “Let me take care of you first, okay?”

You nod eagerly, then let your head fall back again, closing your eyes. He sets a punishing pace now, one that makes you dig your heels into his back, one that turns your knuckles white from gripping the stone. Then his thumb brushes your clit again, lightly at first, but then with a sense of purpose, as he rolls the bundle of nerves under his digit until it is almost too much, until you’re almost too overstimulated to come.

“Hey,” you hear his soft voice through your hot, red, lustful haze. “Let daddy see your pretty eyes.”

You couldn’t resist him, even if you wanted to, you want him to see you come undone and have him know that it’s because of him, because he does always take care of you, because he does always make sure you have everything you need, because he does always give you whatever you want. Your eyes fly open, and you see him towering above you, a concentrated crease between his eyes, his eyes that are full of love and affection and devotion, and it’s all you need.

You come with a gasp that rips its way out of your chest as suddenly and unexpectedly as your climax rips through you. It turns into a moan, a wailing sound, as wave upon wave of deep, hot pleasure shoots through you. Javi doesn’t stop, not for one second, his fingers reaching deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust, until you stop twitching in his grip. Then he removes them carefully and helps you untangle yourself from his body.

He holds you upright as he kisses you, your face, your neck, your shoulders, your temple, and then he softly cups your face with both hands and says, “There is no prettier sight in this world than you coming for me, baby girl.”

You feel your face grow hot. “Shut up,” you tell him with an airy laugh.

“I mean it.” He kisses your lips softly, once, then with more force, until you open up and let his tongue explore every corner, drawing out delicious, desperate noises.

You pull away. “You’ve teased me enough for one day,” you tell him, the palm of your right hand pressed flatly against his chest.

“I’m only getting started,” he replies, pushing closer.

“If you keep that up, you will have to fuck me again,” you say, and it sounds like a warning.

“I’m planning on doing that, baby girl.” He gives you another small kiss. “But let me take you back to the yacht first. I want to be somewhere where I can give you my full attention.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff

💀💀💀

You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.

After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.

After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.

You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.

You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.

You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.

"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."

"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.

"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."

"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."

"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.

"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.

"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"

"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."

"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.

💀

When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.

'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.

'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.

'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'

'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.

The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content. 

You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.

💀

You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.

You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.

‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.

Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.

You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.

You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses. 

You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.

Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”

You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.

Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.

💀

Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.

You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.

Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”

“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.

“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”

“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.

“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.

“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”

“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”

“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”

“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”

“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.

“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”

“I don’t think anyone--”

“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”

You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”

“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.” 

💀

You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.

“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”

Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.

You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.

“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.

“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.

“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.

You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.

“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”

You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.

“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”

You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.

“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.

“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”

“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.

“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”

“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.

“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”

“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”

Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.

“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.

“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.” 

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (13)

word count; 14,463

summary; in the aftermath of an unusual rescue, some big revelations come to pass.

notes; y’all are gonna hate me but love me.

warnings; descriptive gore, gun use, reference to death, violence, gang activity, reference to drug use, reference to arson, reference to house fires, main character injury.

It was a known fact that it took three whole seconds in the morning before you could process where you were, and remember anything other than your own name.

That first second was spent in a quickly disseminated state of serenity. Your head wasn’t yet hurting, and you eased back into consciousness with a slow start, the darkness surrounding you oddly reminiscent, but the chilling cold and the damp was less so.

The second was when panic rushed through your system.  Your throat felt blocked as you came back to consciousness, the pain in your head came crashing back over you like a crushing tidal wave, the blood rushing on your head as coughs racked your body, trying to take a deeper breath, and panic filled you.

The third second made you roll onto your side, spluttering a little as pain throbbed behind your eyes and your head was spinning, making you feel like you were falling for just a second, before your nails were scraping at the material underneath you as you tried to sit up, everything along your body screaming out in agony and almost giving out with your weakness. It wasn’t soft cotton like your sheets, it was gritty like stone, tearing at your nails.

And then, you remembered.

You remembered exactly where you were, and what had happened, and why you were here. Well, that part was still a little fuzzy, you’d never really been given a reason. The pain in your body made sense, the dull throbbing in one eardrum more than the other and the shock of residual adrenaline left in your sore body that was beginning to make a resurgence in your fear, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The familiar burn of tears in your throat as a lump formed and the stinging of salt in your eyes as they threatened to fall, and then you found the strength to sit up, to blink and clear dust-filled eyes a little more, before wiping a hand over your face to get rid of it all. There wasn’t much light where you were, but there was a clear spot of musty-yellow lighting in the centre of the room, your body curled in the corner, dumped in uncomfortable positions that made your legs ache, and there was a figure you recognised leaning over the table.

Covered in blood, frantic, brown eyes fixed on you that glittered under the low light, you swallowed thickly.

“Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty. Think ya’ can come give me a hand over here?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece the puzzle together, but then there was a clicking that made you jump unnecessarily violently in fear, the memory of the last time you’d heard it flashing behind your eyes like a scene from a movie. Newt was panicked, but clearly trying to stay calm, his eyes widening just a fraction in a messaged for only you to hear, and despite the pain you felt, you forced yourself to your feet.

Your bag was weighing you down, medical supplies rattling, and you stumbled on feet that you could barely feel until your hands were braced on the edge of the table, and you could see what was going on a little better.

A gunshot victim, at least four bullet wounds, two packed with gauze that was rapidly soaking through as Newt had pressure on two others; swapping between them frantically if the pile of blood-sodden gauze on the floor was anything to go by. You assumed from the recognisable tattoo on the other half of this mans face too that he was a part of whatever gang this was, and clearly, an important member if they were willing to commit these kinds of crimes to save his life.

“You got more gauze, ‘cus I’m running out, and I could use your help getting him fixed up before we both end up looking like him.”

His words were low and whispered, and you gaped as you stared at the man. “This guy needs a hospital, and a team of professional medical surgeons. Like, Derek! Or, Dr Lahey! We aren’t trained for this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all he's got.” Newt huffed, a spit of blood leaving the unnamed man’s body between Newt’s gloved fingers as he tried to shift his weight, a whispered curse from his lips as he tried to stop the flow again.

You nodded, swallowing thickly and squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to quell the pain bouncing around the inside of your skull. You assessment the scene, noting the Newt really hadn't been able to do much, and thankfully, if the change in the daylight outside was anything to go by then you had only been out for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, light still coming in between the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The man in the corner was slumped in his chair, gun sitting beside him on the table, and your heart was racing so fast that the headache you sported was only getting worse. Your voice felt raw and hoarse as you tried to speak on it, squeaking and cracking the first time you tried to speak in anything above a whisper.

“We’re gonna’ need some water over here, boiled if you can to stop an infection, but even just bottled water would do at this point.” The man sitting on the chair stopped his rocking, the groaning of the seat against the concrete pausing, and you jumped as the front two legs slammed back down onto the floor. He stared at you for a moment, analysing you, before giving in, wandering over to the door and undoing a heavy deadbolt to open it up, never turning his back to the two of you and keeping his gaze locked with yours before throwing a demand for bottled water over his shoulder.

There was scuffling, various sounds of movement on the other side and you assumed there would be multiple people, before the door was closing once again, and the grating sound of metal was making itself knowing again in such a piercing scream along the lock that you shivered, wincing at the chill it gave you, stomach twisting.

“All right, this is a fucking mess.”

“You don’t say, love.” Newt grunted, a soft laugh falling from him as you opened up your bag, hands shaking as you tore it roughly, the zip ricocheting along its tracks to expose the contents to you. A fresh pair of gloves, and two of the strongest painkillers you could find that you forced yourself to choke down dry, and then you were attempting to focus.

Your scissors came first, chopping around Newt’s hands as best you could to remove the sodden clothing that covered his body to expose blood-smeared and frayed skin, torn from bullet wounds and bruised from the bleeding under the skin. Pushing the fabric aside, Newt pressed down a piece of gauze that was turning redder from pink by the moment, no white left on it, and the colour of his skin was beginning to turn sickly pale.

Grabbing for your flashlight, you noticed it was gone, left nowhere on your bag and missing from your person, patting down every pocket, before your partner simply huffed. “I wanted to do a trauma exam, except my torch is on my keys, too, and they took those a while ago because they have things that could be used as a weapon on them.”

“What, like my star-shaped plushie keyring?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes, reaching a hand up to the lamp overhead, and tapping your fingers against the metal, hissing at the heat building up along the cover of the lamp, but deciding it would have to do. It wasn’t ideal, and it wouldn't give results all that accurate, but if there wasn’t any functioning or reaction at all, then there was no point in doing this at all, because the bleeding in his torso wouldn’t be the bleeding that would kill him.

Grabbing onto the stem instead, you covered his eyes with one hand, adjusting the lamp to sit a little differently, holding it over his head. Moving your hand back quickly, you lifted his eyelid, his pupil sluggish in his movements, but there was definitely a reaction, and you let out a little breath of relief. One more thing you could deal with. Checking the other eye, just to be certain, you got much the same reaction, not a speed you were overall happy with, but certainly better than nothing. This guy really had seen the worst of it, there was swelling along his jaw, cut and battered, a blackish bruise forming above his cheekbone and burst blood vessels in the same eye, and that was just his face.

He was coated in blood, and you couldn't tell whether it was his or someone else’s, some dried and other patches still oozing, body marred with bruises and cuts, both old and fresh, most of which were unrelated to the gunshot wounds he had. A fist came banging on the door, just in time, water bottles being handed through when it was cracked open a fraction, and there was only six of them by your count, eyes flittering over the sealed packets of water that hadn't even been opened, and you’d have to stretch it to make it last.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than this guy, he has a bullet in his thigh.” The joke was to brush off his own pain, but for the past couple of minutes, he’d been shuffling his weight from one foot to another, and you glanced around, noting the box that was sitting only a few feet away. The unidentified man set to guard the two of you was coming over, the door sealed up tight once again and the packet of water in his hands.

“Can you put them down on the box? We could use the extra surface?”

He paused, glancing at it, considering the request, before agreeing. Silently, albeit, he accepted your request, dropping the bottles down onto it and kicking the crate across the floor to you, wooden container scraping over the stonework and bumping against your leg roughly, and you tried not to glare at him as your leg buckled.

A coppery taste filled your mouth as you licked over your bottom lip, wincing at the slight pain of the cut, swollen and sore, but not as much as the pain along your forehead, a cut you assumed you gained on the drive here. “So, first up, we need to try and stitch up those holes.”

“If I let go of these cuts, he’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I know. We can work fast, but I need you to do the stitching, because I’m not sure I’m up to it right now.” You held your hands up, the uncontrollable trembling taking you over was far too violent to be able to do sutures, but you could definitely hold down pressure. Newt nodded, your hands closing over his, the squeeze of cold blood between your fingers from the gauze making you gag slightly, choking down that feeling of nausea.

His hands slipped out from underneath your own, and you pressed down the second they were gone, the man underneath you groaning under his breath as he constantly walked the border between conscious and unconscious. As you held down, Newt reached across his body, snatching up the first of the water bottles. Unscrewing the lid and placing it down, he left the cap beside it, before he was shuffling through his bag.

Pulling out the kit with needles and thread in, your emergency stitches kit that you’d ever actually to use in the field, and you were having flashbacks and pinpricks of pain along the tips of your fingers as you remembered practising the stitches in the academy, constantly poking your fingers with the metal thread.

The strongest antiseptic followed, dark brown liquid in a half-empty container sloshing against the sides, and it dripped across the edges, spilling a little in his haste, before he was diluting it in the first bottle. Lid back on, shaking it to mix, the once drinkable water turned a murky brown colour, and your eyes were stinging a little front he still open bottle letting strong fumes out into the air.

“I’m thinking chest, stomach, stomach, thigh.”

“Should probably elevate his legs if you wanna’ go thigh last, it’s pretty close to his femoral.” Newt nodded, glancing around, before realising there wasn’t much for the two of you to work with.

“Alright, chest, thigh, stomach?”

“I guess.” You mumbled, none of the odds being in either of your favours, and you watched as your partner pressed his fingers down against the pulse in the man’s neck, frowning at what he found and holding the position down for longer than what was good, the results silently given to you simply by the actions. “Do you need me to push the cut shut so you can stitch?”

“I do, but if you let go of those other ones, he’ll bleed out.”

You gnawed a little on your lower lip, fear and panic building once again, because every slip this man made closer to death, he was dragging both you and Newt with him. The words hadn't been specifically spoken, nothing was clear, but you could read between the lines, and if this man didn’t survive the day, then neither would you and Newt.

You didn’t know what had happened to him, you didn’t want to. Whatever kind of illegal activities, gang territory fight or simply men wreaking havoc upon one another had caused this, you wanted no more part of it than keeping him alive long enough to hope that you and your friend might get out of this situation. The hand under your heart thudded a little more violently as he surfaced back into total consciousness once again, a gasping breath followed by sputtering, fresh red bubbling in his spit as he tried to clear the blood that was pooling in his throat, before an agonising sound was leaving him.

“What the hell are you doing to him?”

You jumped at the loud voice, yelling from across the room and the gun clicked again, the sound a threat that made your entire body stiffen painfully, nails digging into the mains chest as your hands tried to ball themselves into fists.

“We’re trying to save his bloody life!” Newt yelled back, and you gasped, eyes widening a little, because if the two of you had already learned anything from talking back to these people it was the risk of a ruptured eardrum and a killer headache. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who’d taken you hostage, the rasp in his voice a little different and this man simply grunted at the pair of you disdainfully, rolling his eyes and shuffling in his seat beside the door.

“Alright, what if we use the bags for weight? It’s not ideal, but if we work quickly, I can hold one shut while the bags put some pressure on the other two, and I can hold it shut.”

The blond before you flicked his eyes over everything, fiddling with the tools as he toyed with the tweezers he had retrieved, wiping them down as best he could with some tissue dipped in the antiseptic water. “This guy is so gonna’ fucking die.” He whispered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left you, swaying on your feet a little as you did, the rush of a chemical other than adrenaline being overwhelming.

“Well, we’re all he’s got.” You repeated his words back to him, a cheeky flash of white teeth in a smile that was gone as fast as it came, before you were shaking your head and refocusing on the task at hand, chasing away anything else you might be feeling in the moment. Daring to free one hand from his thigh, you watched the rapid spurts of blood that came free, trickling over his trousers to the table below, before you were putting your bag down on top. You couldn't see much, whether or not it was even working, but it was the best chance the two of you had.

Newt copied your action, placing his bag down over the wounds on his stomach, much like you had done, giving the two of you the chance to focus on the wound on his chest.

Taking the disinfectant from his hand and pressing down a cotton pad over the end, you soaked the small white ball in the liquid, packing it into the wound as Newt tried to clear the area to see what he was doing, but really, it was only smearing the blood around further. You could clean him up and do a better job of it later, but the first thing you needed to do was get the blood flow under control and wash off the antiseptic once it was clean.

You pinched the hole shut, temporarily stopping the floor, beads of red pooling at the corners, and Newt spilt water over the tops of your fingers, the cold feeling making you shiver, because despite the freezing temperatures in whatever kind of warehouse you are trapped inside of, the layer of clammy sweat coating your skin was hiding you from the chill. Once you could see what you were doing, Newt sighed, taking the tweezers in one hand, and nodding his head.

“Push up around the edges to stop the bullet slipping, I should be able to get it pretty quick. I was good at this part.”

“You scare me a little, why the fuck were you a bullet removal prodigy?” He shrugged, winking a little and holding the metal tongs over the wound, before nodding his head once. Slipping your fingers out of the way, you pressed down around the edges, blood spurting up again but you pressed down, stopping the bullets from shifting as Newt pushed into the man's chest through the hole already made. There was a scarcely audible sound, one deaf to the untrained ear but like sirens to a paramedic, the cling of the tips of the needle against the tip of the bullet, and newt shifted his fingers a little.

Letting the metal open back up from where he’d squeezed them closed like a bullet, the edges of the hole stretched around the expanding metal, and an intense look of concentration took over Newt’s face, not even looking at the wound but staring at the wall behind you, looking right through it as he operated purely on instinct and the touch as he felt his way through it. He let out a victorious little noise, pulling back, and as he did, he brought out the shell of a bullet, one that looked to be homemade, though that didn’t exactly surprise you, and it let out a much louder clanging as he dropped it back down onto a metal tray beside the victim’s head.

You moved instantly, the second that it was pulled back you were pushing your thumb and forefinger back up against the edges of the cut to contain the bleeding. Holding it tightly, Newt picked up the next set of his equipment, an atraumatic needle, one of ten and you hoped he was as good as he boasted being because you only had ten between you both, and you’d need two per wound with the length of these wires to seal them up tight enough.

You watched, carefully, as Newt threaded the first of the holes through the wound, pulling it out of the other side with the tweezers, and beginning to tie a series of surgical knots to keep them closed. He gave it a test tug, the skin pulling as he did, but it didn’t rip or tear, neither the wire nor the flesh, a solid base with which he could work. Beginning to sow him up further, Newt moved in steady motions, each gap only two millimetres apart at the maximum, pulling them tightly enough to stop the blood flow and allow tissue repair to began, but not enough that it would tear at the inevitable strain it would undergo when it was done up.

As soon as she was halfway through, attaching a new thread to continue with, and the wound was getting closer to being shut, allowing you to move your fingers out of his way, a slight breath escaping you as your breathing hitched each time the needle or thread came too close to you, because the last thing you needed right now was to get an infection from someone else’s blood and a dingy warehouse, or to lose time on this man’s life by having to start disinfecting everything all over again.

As he sealed it up, he pulled all of the threads a little tighter, working his way along to make sure the thread was evenly distributed, before fastening up the thread. He pulled back, the both of you waiting with bated breath to see whether blood would come free or whether they would bust open once your fingers moved, and while they pulled tautly, they never broke or tore.

You flooded with relief, Newt letting out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh, relief overlaying it all, and you took just a second of reprieve to know that you were just one step closer to this all being over. Opening your mouth, you weren’t sure what was coming, words of gratitude and accomplishment sitting on your tongue, aimed at any kind of higher power that might be watching over the two of you right now, but your partner beat you to it.;

“Let’s check the bag wounds.”

You nodded your head, swallowing back whatever you were going to say, beginning to feel a little dizzy as your head spun, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, containing the way you were feeling. Lifting away the bag that was sitting over his thigh, you were both surprised and impressed that the bag method had held reasonably well. There was more blood than there would be if you’d held it yourself, but you could work with what you had, and as your eyes flicked to where Newt was checking his stomach, you found similar results. Your gut was twisting again, bile rising in your throat at the sight of the blood in various places, an unusual phenomenon as blood had never bothered you before, and you turned away, gagging as vomit threatened to make itself known, and you tried not to clap a blood-soaked hand over your mouth, the thought only sickening you further.

“Woah, you alright?” You gagged, dry heaving a few more times as you tried to keep back the vomit that was on the verge of making itself known, tears lining your eyes and heat flooding over your cheeks as everything within you threatened to let go, but you managed to keep a lid on it. “The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I’m fine. Just aftershock, I think. Hunger, too, maybe, been a long time since I had anything real to eat, I think my body is just all fucked up right now.” His eyes narrowed on you, but he nodded, accepting the answer because the two of you needed to focus on things that were more important.

Once you had suppressed your nausea, you were picking the scissors back up, Newt resetting and disinfecting the equipment once again as you cut away at a patch of the ruined jeans the man was wearing. The denim was stiff while wet, and you struggled to cut it, your fingers aching as the metal of the handles pressed into the edges of your fingers, and you released a breath as you were holding as it was finished. Wiping down the area and packing the hole with disinfectant to make sure it was clean.

The procedure between the two of you started up again, only a second later you were pinching the wound shut, waiting for Newt to extract the bullet before moving to knot the thread and begin to fasten the stitches. It felt like time was coming to a stop while also speeding along, your fingers moving to the pulse point on his neck to monitor how it was going, counting the beats you could feel and trying to remember how light it felt so each period check would reveal whether it grew stronger or weaker.

You felt like the clock was ticking by too fast, every time you glanced up to the musty glass barrier hanging over the door seemed like it was spinning by at double speed, the hand constantly moving in starling jumps around the clock, the shadows in the room growing more pronounced and sharp as the sun moved across the sky, the light becoming duller as the one hanging over you both seemed to become brighter, and you watched Newt work.

As a team, you stitched him up, making sure that each wound was sealed up tightly and that they wouldn't burst, the pair of you physically exhausted. You could see the ache in Newt’s leg, he’d given up on even trying to hide it a while ago, as the two of you had moved onto the third bullet hole, all of his weight sitting on his good leg as he balanced barely anything on the bad one. Four bullets were sitting in a row, lined up neatly beside his head, and you let out a sigh, scrubbing over his skin carefully to wipe up the traces of blood.

Once he’d been stable enough, you checked his vision again, his reaction times having increased by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to mark an improvement, and his pulse was picking up with both strength and speed. You could see the bruises and cuts along his skin more clearly once you’d wiped him down of excess blood, littered with marks that would fade, only the bullet holes to turn pinkish-purple with scar tissue eventually, to join all of the other battle wounds along his flesh. Various tattoos to match the symbols on his face were across his body, and you made sure to treat every single cut, not wanting to leave anything up to chance, your body screaming out in protest as your adrenaline died down, and exhaustion was crawling in.

You were overwhelmed, tears building in your eyes, and Newt mentioned nothing as a few fell free, because you were sure that at some point - perhaps before you’d surfaced back to consciousness all that time ago - that he would have done the same. The situation was terrifying and you were struggling to process it all, every thought you had was like a swirling hurricane, melded with every other thought and emotion you were feeling, leaving you hopeless to process your thoughts but just lay rampant to them.

Anxiety was spiking through your system, choking it down by focusing on the methodical cleaning of the man, but eventually, there was nothing left to do. Fresh gauze and bandages were stark in comparison to his sickly-coloured skin, wrapped neatly and tightly and finally staying crisp and clean as you had everything under control, and your legs were threatening to buckle. You packed away slowly, stepping back from the table, and removing your gloves to join the scattered piles of medical waste that covered the floor and the edges of the workspace.

Newt didn’t even bother to put things back properly, to look after the equipment, he simply dropped it all inside, doing the zip up enough to hold it shut, before it was dangling from his fingers by the straps, and you followed suit.

Noting the movements, the man in the chair stood, his movements slightly wobbly from how long he’d been sat down, and you realised how long must have passed. As he approached, he kicked one of the empty bottles aside, all six used to the last drop for cleaning and disinfecting, and he pulled the gun from his waistband, making sure his finger was over the trigger in case either you or Newt made an attempt to pull something.

Not that you had any chance, there was a pile of everything that could possibly be used as a weapon over on the table beside where he had been guarding.

“He’ll live?”

You raised your hands, folding them behind your head in a symbol of your cooperation as he turned to you, and you tried not to sway too much in your weakness, simply nodding your head to him, and swallowing thickly. “He’ll need to keep those wounds clean, you can take the stitches out in about a month, or longer, wait until they start to form flesh for a scar but take them out before the skin gets too puffy.”

He nodded his head before lifting the gun up a little higher, motioning to the bag you held, and you trembled, his finger flexing a little on the trigger. “Whatever we’re going to need to keep it clean. Get it out. Put it on the table here, and then walk over to the wall until your back is pressed to it.”

You lifted the bag slowly, the dragging of the zip over the metal was all that field the room, tense silence taking over before you were reaching inside, daring to take your eyes off of the man and quell your fear to be able to reach inside. Pulling out both the diluted and undiluted bottles, you hoped he didn’t notice the lack of canister spray you’d left at the scene, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the life you’d left hanging in the balance, and wondering whether he’d survived.

By now, the shift at the firehouse would have been over, and you did not doubt that a missing persons case would have been filed for you and Newt, the abandoned ambulance after over an hour of no check-in would lead them to know something had happened, but you didn’t know how long it would take to find you, or if they even could.

Placing the bottles, spare bandages and wraps, as well as some painkillers down on the table, you stepped back, fastening your bag up.

“He’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a while, they should last two weeks, he can’t take any more than two a day, or else he’ll OD.”

The man nodded, motioning backwards toward the shadowed walls, and you stepped back slowly, Newt following when his command was given, and his hands were held up into the air too, both of you proceeding with caution.

While one danger had dissipated, another was making itself known, the purpose of being brought here was over, you and Newt had served your purpose, and if the man asking for supplies and advice was anything to go on, it meant that either they planned to let you go or planned to kill you, because you clearly wouldn't be sticking around to follow through on a treatment plan.

Once your back hit the wall, you stilled, Newt coming to stand beside you. The door was unlocked, several more men coming in, and the four of them all lifted their comrade carefully, carrying him out, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving you both in cold silence. This area of the room seemed even colder than that of your impromptu operating theatre had, the shadows creating a drop in temperature, but you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Your head was still throbbing, your eyes felt heavy each time you tried to hold them open, the adrenaline and fear in the situation had been all that had helped to even keep you awake, and you rolled your head from side to side, trying to ease the pain in your neck.

Newt followed beside you, your legs pulled up before you as his stretched out, your bags abandoned together between your bodies, and your head came to rest on his shoulder, a heavy sigh let out.

“I think you have a concussion.”

You chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, simply a sound made to fill the silence and bush him off, but he wasn’t accepting that answer. His hand closed over yours, lacing your fingers together comfortingly and squeezing tightly, and you did your best to squeeze him back just as firmly. “I don’t have a concussion, I just have a headache.”

“Yeah.” He hummed, and you thought for a second, you may actually have won an argument with him. “But you also have nausea, you passed out, you’re a little confused, you’re weak on your feet and you can barely stand up straight.”

“It’s a-”

“You say aftershock and I’ll slap you.” He teased, a genuine laugh leaving you this time, and your shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “When we get out of here, w-”

“If.”

“When we get out of here,” His voice was a little firmer, commanding you to have as much faith as he did, “Will you please just get it checked out? Just to make me feel better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes behind closed lids, and groaning when he jostled his shoulder to wake you back up to the fullest alertness you could muster. “Fine! Fine, when we get out of here, I’ll get it checked out.”

Silence encased you both, darkness taking over, and the man who’d been tasked with guarding you both returned, taking his seat again and setting up to play on his phone from the second that he was comfortable, and you waited. He said nothing, not noticing the stare both you and Newt had fixed on him, your heart sinking as he remained quiet. The longer his lack of information dragged on, the more you felt doom beginning to sweep over.

The fact that he had nothing to say to you both screamed volumes into the void. There were no threats to keep your mouths shut, or looming promises of what would happen if you exposed the group’s location, or even any information on when you’d be leaving, and it seemed that they had no intention to let you go at all.

As you wiggled a little against the concrete, butt becoming numb from the stone underneath you, your legs stretched out to match your partners, and your eyes closed. You were fading away again, drifting towards sleep as it called out to you, the spinning of the room, the dizziness that was bordering on vertigo and the nausea with the headache, it all seemed to lessen as you slipped from consciousness.

Newt was talking to you, forcing you to stay just enough awake that you didn’t drift completely, but you weren’t processing what he was saying, the words just becoming background noise that disturbed you from being able to slumber, but you suspected that was the whole point. He wasn’t talking about anything important, he was telling you his mother’s recipes and the time he once went to buy new work shoes but almost walked out of the store while wearing an un-purchased pair because he was so tired from a double shift.

You missed the banging in the other rooms, you missed the actions taking place, barely roused by the sudden shaking your body felt, and you only snapped back to consciousness when you felt hands on your body. You kicked roughly, Newt barely avoiding the blow as all the pain you’d felt came flooding back over you in shockwaves, making you shudder violently at the surge of pain and nausea, before you were blinking at the dull lighting in the room.

“Stick with me, love. Tommy would kill me if we had to take you to the hospital after the final hurdle because I couldn’t keep you awake.”

“Oh, shut up.” Your words were slurred, and you shook your head, eyes squeezing closed at the throbbing taking place behind them. “You’d love that, I’m surprised you haven’t sacrificed me for a trip to the ER yet, anything to see Dr Derek in his lab coat, right?”

Pink flushed his cheeks, his eyes flickering over to the door, and he leaned in a little, hugging you tightly and shaking you enough to jolt energy through your body, a groan on your lips as he did. “Something is going on outside, and I never pass up a chance for an I-told-you-so!”

“A what?” You questioned, confusion still washing over you, but you never got a chance for an answer. The sound of a bullet pinging against metal was so sharp that it left another ringing in your ears as you cupped your hands over the sides of your head just a second too late. Newt did the same, falling away from shock with a grunt, and the man beside the door was in a little more agony at his close proximity to the sound.

You blinked blurry vision clear, watching smoke curl up from the lock, before the heavy metal door was falling open. It was a uniform you recognised, one of the police members you’d already seen much of over the last few cases, your brows raising a little as you watched them enter. You kept your hands over your ears, at least two more shots reverberating through the air and you felt them more than you heard them, body feeling the impact and breath feeling knocked from your lungs at the vibrations over the airwaves.

It was all like a dream, detached from reality as you were pulled to your feet by an officer, Newt’s hand dropping away from yours and you stumbled, feelings as though your movements weren’t your own. As you were guided through the halls, you tried to remember some of it, any of it, but everything you saw and heard seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.

Flashing blue lights outside with wailing sirens signalled the police cars, and several men around you were all being arrested, pinned down face first and snarling as they were cuffed, but you didn’t have enough energy to feel intimidated right now.

The fresh air was a shock, like plunging into water below the freezing point, and you took a sudden and gasping inhale, coming to a full stop, and everything out of focus suddenly went into overdrive. As you stepped out of the building the haze seemed to drop away, and you took another lungful of the air, panting breaths as you tried to fill your lungs with the source of oxygen, a panic attack building as you finally let everything cup back through, and gentle hands were guiding you to an ambulance.

You recognised the paramedics waiting inside, they were friendly as they greeted you by name and you recognised them from another case, perhaps the one on the bridge or at the chemical plant, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter. An oxygen mask was placed over your face, fresh breaths of air racing through your lungs on a steady distribution that forced your breathing to even out, and you were grateful for it, not wanting to break down until you were curled up in your own bed tonight.

You winced at the flashlight that flickered over your eyes, stars in your eyes flashing for a second as you blinked to clear them, and while the paramedic around you shuffled within their own devices, you shifted yourself slightly on the stretcher, turning to stare out at the collections of cars instead, trying to see more than just the inside of the ambulance.

You searched for Newt, unable to find his blond hair for a good few minutes, before finally, you spotted him. Messy mop head in a far corner, beside a collection of cars that didn't belong to the public services, but instead to the members of the public services.

He was wrapped up tightly in his best friend's arms, Thomas patting his back comfortingly, as Minho all but bounced with excitement at his side. Brenda was leaning on her car, and Gally was standing beside them, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. They were all in casual clothing, clearly having changed since the end of their shift had rocked around so long ago, the night sky closing in overhead as the day was being chased away, and you took another deep breath through the mask, smiling again.

Just the sight of your team was reassuring, to know they’d found you, they’d come to collect you, to make sure you were okay, and your heart thumped steadily and surely in confirmation that you needed their comfort right now. They were talking, Newt using a lot of hand gestures and while you couldn't tell much about their features, you knew they’d all be flickering from amusement to confusion to horror. Newt was quite the storyteller, at any time, no matter the trauma.

They turned, Newt pointing over to the ambulance you were within, and you raised a hand to wave to your friend as you watched all of their attentions move to you, before the paramedic before you was summoning your attention once again. You turned to her, the call of your name snapping you to the moment, and as much as you didn't want to look away from them all, you knew you’d be reunited with them soon enough.

“Well, you definitely have a concussion.” She confirmed, and you pouted, taking a final deep breath from the oxygen mask, and then taking it off.

“Newt is going to live for the ‘I-told-you-so’.” You scowled, and she seemed to come into more focus within your memory now. You remembered her, she had been there at the chemical plant, she’d been new at the time, a trainee, fresh out of the academy and on one of her first cases, and you’d tried to comfort her about the card system, making sure to navigate as many red cards away from her as you could to make a hard day just a little easier.

She grinned, handing you a plastic cup with some tablets inside, and a bottle of water, with the lid already unscrewed. “I’ll spare you the medical analysis, I’m sure you know what to do.” You only nodded, taking both from her gratefully and tipping the pills onto your tongue, before following them with a gulp of water, and taking them down eagerly. “Two painkillers to keep the headaches and muscle soreness at bay, as well as the nausea.”

“As much as I’d love to chat, I’m going to have to rain-check. Am I good to go? I’m desperate to just get home.”

She chuckled, nodding, and you stood up, still feeling a little unsteady and lightheaded, but it was beginning to get easier. Giving her a final thanks, and climbing down from the van, you closed the doors up for her, banging on the back when they were sealed up, and she gave a thumbs up from inside of the window, before sorting everything out and preparing for their journey back.

Turning around, there was a body directly behind you, and you cursed loudly while jumping, eyes trailing up from a familiar chest to his face and raising a brow as warm honey-coloured eyes stared at you. “Fuck, Tommy, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on someone who’d been freshly rescued after an abduction? We tend to be jumpy.”

He grinned, shaking his head a little at your words, before your own smile was following. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks, and you leaned into the warmth that his palms brought over the cold skin of your face, sagging a little at his touch. “I have a lot of questions, but the main one is; are you okay? I just need to know you’re alright, and everything else can wait.”

“I’m okay, Tommy, I promise. A little battered and bruised, but hey, what’s new?” He rolled his eyes softly, a yawn following on your lips as you covered it, not missing the fond look he held as he continued to stare, eyes sweeping over your features. You waited for a second longer, before nudging one of your feet forward to bump your toes against his, your brows raising a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just really fucking worried about you.” He whispered, eyes dropping down a little, fixing on your lips, and licked over his own. His hands fell further down, sitting over your jaw and he dragged a thumb across your lips a little, your mouth pouting instinctually as he did, and his lips flicked up at the edges, never taking his gaze from where his finger was resting. “Chasing after you is like being on a damn rollercoaster.”

“How’s that?” You mumbled, breath clouding in the cold air slightly but the words were whispered, and his lashes tickled against your cheek as he shifted to bump his nose against yours, dragging them together slowly, his lips pressing to his own finger on the other side.

“Exciting, addictive, a total rush, but a little scary right at the big drop.”

You brought a hand up, sitting over his cheek, his head tipping into your hand, and his thumb slipped away, leaving nothing between you to stop you from being able to taste the overly sweetened coffee on his breath that he drank whenever he got worried. “Don’t kiss me yet.”

“Why not? It’s me and you, and now I know you’re okay, and I just really want to.” He teased you, pushing in enough to trace his lips very gently against your own, sparks of electricity shooting along you at the fleeting brush that you could still feel but wasn’t enough to be a kiss, but already left you wanting more. “If you don’t give me a reason soon, I’m gonna’ kiss you breathless, and they’ll need to put you back on that oxygen mask.”

You let out a soft breath, an airy laugh, before finding the strength to pull back by a fraction. “I have a concussion.”

He snapped back, eyes wide and brows furrowing so tightly you thought he'd get permanent perry lines, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You said you were fine! You little liar!”

“I am fine!” You took his hands, pulling them away from your face and weaving your fingers with his on both sides, before rocking up on your tiptoes, and pressing your lips to his lower cheek, hearing him whine a little at the near-miss kiss. “I’m just a little woozy, and tired, and shaken up.”

“You promise that’s all?”

“I swear.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your own cheek in return as he respected your boundaries. “If you can set rules for our first kiss, then so can I. I want to be at my peak when we do, I don’t want anything to spoil it, I want to remember it perfectly, and not have such a killer headache, preferably.”

“I can live with that. We’ll wait. For now.” You nodded your head, foreheads resting together once again, and your eyes closed, simply soaking in how it felt to be surrounded by him, before a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat was breaking you apart, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, a wicked smirk on her face as she stared at you both.

“Do we get any greetings, or do we not matter anymore? Because I was kinda’ worried about you too.”

You grinned, the woman who you were proud to call your best friend was holding her arms out for you, and you dropped Thomas’ hands, feeling him let you go and step back just as quickly now that everyone else had come over, and you wrapped her up in your arms as she squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side. Another pair of arms wrapped around you, and you grinned as the familiar smell of your partner’s aftershave overwhelmed your senses, the man clinging to you from the back as he wrapped his arms around the both of you.

Minho followed, a wicked grin on his face as he draped himself across Brenda’s back, squeezing all of you even tighter, and Thomas followed beside Newt, Gally and Fry coming next, until you couldn’t see out past the mass of bodies that had joined, feeling as though you were in the middle of a rugby scrummage and you could barely breathe, the laughter you were letting out doing nothing to help.

Eventually, Brenda was elbowing the men back, letting you slip free when they all backed away, and you missed all of their body heats, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself to keep warm All you had was the thin material of your uniform shirt, soaked in blood and clammy sweat, as well as various medicines and chemicals, with a vest underneath. It was doing little against the cold of the night closing in, twilight well past as stars started to make themselves known.

You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, wondering how Newt wasn’t feeling the cold, but he was excitedly retelling the tale already of the surgery the two of you had been forced to perform, a story that would last him for ages, no doubt, but it was his way of processing the trauma; to turn it into something he was proud to remember instead of something he was scared to think about, something that made him feel bold instead of terrified, and you wanted to support that, so you kept your mouth shut.

Stepping back over to Thomas, his gaze left his best friend, flicking down to you, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and raising a brow when you tugged his arm out of his pocket. He let you, his arm limp in your hold as he let you guide him, a soft pink flushing his cheeks as you tucked yourself under his arm, your cheek moving to rest on his shoulder, your hands tucking into his pocket and one set of fingers weaving with the fingers of his that were still inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before turning to look up at him as his arm squeezed around you a little more tightly.

There was a grin on his face, one with a hidden meaning as he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain it. “You know, Newt is gonna’ give us shit for cuddling.” His fingers were moving over your back in slow patterns, large palm rubbing slowly and transferring warmth back to you where you were chilled to the bone.

“I don’t care. I’m fucking cold, and you’re nice and warm.” You moved, face pressing into him a little further, the rest of your words becoming muffled, and he chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” He simply rested his chin on the top of your head, freeing up his other arm to hold you more securely, and letting out a slow breath that became a slight yelp as you pressed cold hands under the edge of his hoodie to sit on warm skin, grinning cheekily at the scowl that formed as you did. “Is any of the story Newt is telling actually true?”

“Surprisingly, most of it.”

“Well, which p-” He was cut off, the gruff clearing of a throat making him fall silent, and you pulled back, slightly embarrassed as heat made itself known along your cheeks when you found the police officer to be looking for you, the rest of the squad falling silent too and all turning to look at you, following the officer’s gaze, and you untangled yourself from Thomas.

“Sorry to interrupt you all. I just need your statement, ma’am, it’ll only take a moment.”

“You haven’t given your statement yet?” Newt quizzed, clicking his tongue in a tutting fashion, and you stuck your tongue out a little bit at him.

“You still haven’t been checked out by a paramedic yet?” You mocked, his amused face falling as he mock-glared at you, Minho pinching his arm as he tried to insist he was perfectly fine, his friend telling him otherwise.

“I’ll meet you over by that car in a moment, it’ll only take a few minutes to get your statement.” You nodded, the policeman giving you a polite smile, before tapping his pen against the pad in his hand and wandering away to the vehicle.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lips brushed against your ear, making you jump a little, and you turned back to face the man behind you, your lieutenant standing back up to his full height as you did, and raising his brows.

“No, I want you to take Newt over to an ambulance and force him to get a check-up. He’s more than happy to diagnose me, but he won’t do a self-diagnosis.” Thomas laughed, a hearty and full sound, and you assumed there were memories flashing behind his eyes of a childhood full of similar circumstances. “I’ll come and meet you over by the cars afterwards. I’m going to need a lift home, y’know..”

His hand came up, tucking away stray hairs behind your ear, and nodding his head. “I was already planning on that, don’t worry.” You smiled, head ducking a little, and you tensed up a little at the clenching in your gut again, fearing it was another bout of nausea rising, but instead, your stomach rumbled, loudly. There was a snicker, hidden in your hairline, and your lips pursed, a shy feeling growing within you once again. “I’ll take you to get some food, too.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, a finger hooking under your chin, pulling your face up, and there was a smirk there that only made you flush further. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re adorable? Because, you are.” You scowled, blush only growing stronger, and he smoothed a thumb over your cheek as did, glancing away over your shoulder for a second. “Go give your statement, I’ll wrestle Newt into an ambulance.”

“Mhm, ‘kay.” You twisted your head, nuzzling a little into his palm for a second, before pulling it away from your face and squeezing his hand. “I want McNuggets. McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

You raised a brow, hand smoothing down over his chest to sit just above his stomach, and his eyes dropped, following your hand, a slightly more vulnerable look on his face when he turned back to you; wide eyes, swallowing thickly. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

You tugged on the front of his clothing. “Can I wear your hoodie?”

He froze for a second, before a rush of a breath was leaving him like a punch, and he smiled, reaching behind his head with one hand and tugging it up, stripping the garment off and shucking it down his arm, the long-sleeved shirt underneath rising up a bit as he did, and you forced your eyes away from the happy trail revealed or the flex of his biceps, taking the warm garment from him. He held it out, soft green material looking warm and inviting, flooded with his body heat and the smell of him, your fingers twitching to take it.

Undoing the buttons on the front of your shirt, you cursed under your breath at the cold while taking it off, just a tank top left underneath, before taking the hoodie. It caught on your ponytail, Thomas helping you to adjust it over your head before taking the ruining uniform from you and draping it over his arm like a waiter’s towel, nodding his hair and lifting your hair free from the collar.

He leaned in, lips pressing to your forehead, a soft kiss given to you, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go. Go give your statement, the sooner it’s over, the sooner we get you those nuggets. I’ll meet you at the cars.” Tucking your hands into warm pockets, you wandered away, bumping your hip against Brenda’s as you did and she stumbled a little from where she’d been balancing mid-yawn, flipping you off as you laughed while walking away, and making your way over to the officer.

He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against his car as you approached, offering you his hand and introducing himself politely, and you freed up a hand to shake, giving him your name for the record, before your hands were once again clenched with the oversized hoodie’s pockets.

It was a simple case, there wasn’t much to tell. In all honestly, you didn’t know much. You wouldn't be much help, you’d been unconscious for the first half of the journey and in the midst of your concussion symptoms the second time, and you’d never seen the man pull up. You did tell him what you could, about the unusual call, you and Newt splitting up to check the area, before finding the man under the bridge. You tried your best to patch him up, before the two of you had been taken at gunpoint, and you’d lost consciousness when you’d been put in the car.

You asked about the fate of the man under the bridge, your heart sinking a little at the answer you got. He hadn't made it, he’d tried to use the equipment you’d left him but had passed away before the hour mark had passed, and you gripped onto yourself tightly to contain how you felt. He attempted to comfort you about it, to tell you that it was the gang activity you and Newt had speculated it to be, and that the man who’d been stabbed was a criminal, but it did little to ease your suffering.

You were a big believer in second chances; if you didn’t you wouldn't be in the place you were now, with the family you’d found.

Once he had you sign off on the confidentiality forms and disclosures, your name signed next to Newt’s chicken scratch signature, you were free to go, more than ready to just go home. Everything ached, you were still sore and covered with pain, your muscles all tensed up and torn from the strain of the day, your hunger making you feel like you were being eaten from the inside out by your own stomach and the headache that came with it wasn’t a highlight of your day, and your bed was calling out for you.

As promised, the teams were over by the cars, music playing on the radio from within Brenda’s as the door was open, letting her lean against it, and Newt was sucking happily on one of the lollipops reserved for little children that some of the ambulances carried, his tongue turning purple from the false-grape flavour of it.  

He saw you coming, a little bounce in his step as you approached, before he was coming to stand before you, a smacking sound making itself known as he pulled the sweet treat away from his mouth. “You okay? Did he tell you about the guy?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he frowned, shrugging a little, but holding his arms open.

“He was a bad guy, you can’t save everyone, but you tried, okay? You gave it your best.” His words were true and you knew they were, you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, you’d done everything you could without losing your one life, in which he would have died too, and you were trying not to risk your own life as much these days. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You huffed, and he squeezed you a little tighter, clearly not accepting that answer, and waiting for me. “God, I hate this job sometimes, but I love it too. We save more lives than we lose, we change more lives for the good than bad, but every job has its bad sides.” It felt like you’d been having an awful lot of the bad side lately, but that only meant there was a lot of good to come to balance out the scales. “Have you texted Derek, yet, I bet he’s pretty worried.”

Newt let out a breathy sound at the mention of his crush, sagging in your arms a little before pulling back, and pale cheeks were flushed with warmth, the men avoiding your gaze and scratching at the back of his neck. “Not yet. Bren had my bag in the car, I got a lot of missed texts and a missed call, but I don’t really know what to say. It’s late, he finishes shift soon, I figure I’ll just wait until I get home.”

“Maybe you should go and see him.” You teased, poking at his shoulder, and your friend’s flush only deepened, shaking his head a little.

“I want to take a hot bath, and watch embarrassing rom-coms and eat an ungodly amount of food in a very unattractive way, and I don’t think me and Derek are quite at that stage. Yet.” He added the last word on, smirking as that cheeky attitude came flooding back, and you felt a presence coming to stand behind you. You knew who it was without having to turn, feeling it instinctively as a slight thrill raced through you, before a kiss was being pressed to the back of your head, an arm slipping around your waist, and a chin hooking over your shoulder.

Newt smirked, eyes moving over the pair of you slowly, and you ignored the look as he busied himself by moving to the backseat of Brenda’s car to retrieve your bag as well, and rifling through his own for his phone.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” You relaxed a little further into his hold, his fingers toying with the stitching underneath the pocket of the jumper idly as you sagged into him, feeling the movement of the muscles in his chest as he shrugged.

“Whole teams here, and you’re kinda’ the centre of attention right now. You and Newt. I didn’t really wanna’ push my boundaries, but I’m kinda’ afraid that if I let you go again, you’re going to get into some more stupid shit and get me all riled up again, and I’m still all full of adrenaline form these last few hours worrying about you.”

You moved to the side a little, twisting your head to be able to look up at him, eyes scanning over his face as you analysed his words, nothing but honesty and vulnerability shown to you. “Hey, I didn’t get myself into this one, it just happened. For once, I have no blame! I was cooperative with the criminal, kept my mouth shut, for the most part, you would have been proud of me.” His lips twitched with a soft form of amusement at your joke. “Besides, they all know how I feel about you, anyway. I’m not exactly subtle about it, and neither are you. I don’t think whatever this is, is exactly a state secret.”

He beamed at that, you weren’t sure why, but his face lit up with pure joy, and he nodded his head sucking down to peck the tip of your nose with a sweet kiss, one that made you feel ticklish, your face screwing up slightly. Turning back to your friends, you watched Newt stare at his phone for a second, considering accepting a call as his finger hovered over the accept button, the vibrating device with Derek’s name flashing along the top going off after a second, and you frowned.

“You sure you don’t want company tonight, Newt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think either of you should be alone. Especially not with your concussion.” She pointed at you, but her attention quickly moved back to Newt, and the lanky blond shrugged. “How about a girl’s night? You can join in, Newt, because you can talk guys, so you’re acceptable.”

“Wow, thanks, Bren.” His tone was sarcastic but his face lit up a little, and he chuckled. Brenda turned back to you, raising her brows.

“Girl’s night?”

“How about a girls day tomorrow?” She pouted, and you grinned. “You’re right, I really shouldn’t be alone for forty-eight hours with severe concussion symptoms, but I think I can monitor them myself by tomorrow night.”

“Exactly, tomorrow night! Who’s gonna’ look after you tonight, huh? Girls. Night.” She punctuated her words with emphasis, and you tried to hide your giggling at her confusion behind your hand as even Minho groaned, both Fry and Gally snickered. “What?”

“Brenda..” Minho sighed, nodding his head towards you, where Thomas was squeezing you a little tighter, pressing a series of kisses along your hairline, and she studied you both for a second, before scoffing.

“Really? You’re taking Thomas home instead of me? Boo, you whore.”

You gaped, not sure whether to be offended or amused, and Thomas made the decision for you, protesting in offence on both of your behalves as he questioned why he was deemed as a ‘bad’ choice. “He’s bigger. He gives good cuddles. He promised me McNuggets. He smells good. Those are compelling arguments.”

Thomas’ chest puffed out a little against you and the compliments. “Uh, I smell excellent, I give great cuddles, I’d buy you a share box of nuggets that you wouldn't have to share, and I could put on tall boots.” She raised her hands, her voice teasing now, and your head tipped to the side as you stared at your best friend. “But, fine, girl’s day tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll come to that!” Newt chirped, sticking his hand up, and you nodded your head, Brenda taking the opportunity to high-five him.

“If Newt gets to go, then I’m staying.” You huffed, Thomas squeezing you a little tighter, and you lowered a hand to rest over his, soothing as his intense affections were based on the need for his comfort as well as your own.

“Uh, no.” Brenda deadpanned, her bluntness making you laugh. “You’re one of the main topics we’re going to be talking about. Newt gets to come because he can talk boys, and he tells me about hot doctors.”

“So I can’t come?” Minho chipped in, pouting a little for effect as he stared at Brenda, and her words went silent, no arguments to offer as her eyes narrowed on him, a silent argument between two colleagues that only you knew to be between two lovers, and you chuckled to yourself. He knew he’d won that battle, a smirk taking up on his face, and she huffed.

“If Min gets to go, can I come then?” Gally took a more polite approach, and you nodded your head.

“Sure you can.”

“You’re gonna’ fit all these people into your living room? On your two-seater couch?” Thomas teased, a couple of smirks being thrown in his direction at his reference to knowing your apartment so intimately, and you hadn't even realised that you’d been so freely inviting people to your home until now. You felt a little winded by the realisation, by the idea that it would be so simple to accept someone into the place that was so private to you, the place you’d retreat to after a long day to get away from work, but now, work was your family, and you wanted to share it with them.

“Well, Tommy-boy here can drive himself and you over to my place instead?”

“Team day at Minho’s!” Newt cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, and you laughed, the sound fading into a yawn as you covered your mouth.

“Okay, but late afternoon, because I’m exhausted, and I want a lot of sleep.”

“Late afternoon.” Brenda teased, rolling her eyes. “Midday. You better be there.” She barely gave Newt the chance to get the bags from the backseat before she was slamming the door closed, Gally twirling his keys on his finger and Fry already leaning against the car, half-asleep as his head was popped up on his hand.

You took your bag from Newt, who was catching a ride with Gally, the member of the firehouse who lived the closest to him. Brenda’s car was leaving first, spinning dangerously on mud-tracks as she left, and you were impressed with how recklessly she dared to drive surrounded by cops, but that was probably playing it safe for her. The rest of the team slowly followed, Thomas’ arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as he guided you over to his car, fresh mud spattered up along the polished paintwork, and your bag was placed on the backseat.

He was holding open the passenger door for you when you were ready, and you sank into the seat, offering him just a smile in acknowledgement, before he was rounding the vehicle to get in too, car starting up smoothly, and his hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the spot.

Switching gears, he inched forward slowly, pulling up the track carefully, and glancing back in the mirrors, before both hands were sitting on the wheel, and he was flicking on the indicator for the highway.

“You still want to go to the drive-thru?”

You considered it for a second, watching the road as he pulled out, before giving in to your craving. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He hummed, a hand reaching down to find one of your own where it was sitting in your lap, linking his fingers together loosely with your own. The radio was playing softly, the cars were flying past you on the highway as you weaved between lanes, an area you didn’t recognise, and clearly, Thomas wasn’t all that familiar with it either because he didn’t talk much, instead, focusing on the signage along the road for a long time.

It was a longer journey than you’d expected it to be, almost thirty minutes passing before you were entering an area of town that you began to recognise, the very edges of your territory as far as you’d expanded so far, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, letting him go every so often when he needed it to change gears or to drive, but his hand always seemed to find it’s way back to being pressed up delicately with your own.

Your mind slipped a little bit, wondering just how it was that you found yourself here.

It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to trust anyone, to really let anyone in, and now you found yourself surrounded. Your entire team had shown up to collect you tonight, all of them wanting to make sure you were okay; honest and true with nothing to gain from it themselves except for knowing that you were safe, and the man beside you had let himself dig in a little closer.

Instead of just holding your heart, he’d managed to let himself inside, residing there and making it his own with everything he did. The moment you’d laid your eyes on him, you’d hated him, hearing him already hate you felt like a bittersweet mouthful, making it easier not to get attached but hard as it always made you one step further from home. You’d spent so much of your life forcing people away while dreaming about one day finding your home that you’d never stopped to watch the time slipping away around you as the chances seemed to get further and further away, until Newt had forced you to.

You had your own history that made you the way you were, but you’d never stopped to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt that he did, too, and you’d taken out your anger on him when it was unwarranted. He’d clearly forgiven you for it and moved on, but you’d never really apologised.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He frowned, the neutral expression he’d held switching to a frown as he began to slow the car down, navigating through the car park as a surprising number of cars still milled around, shopping at the mall in the stores with later hours into the night and various fast-food joints, the illuminated letter ‘M’ calling out to you, and Thomas joined the queue of cars.

“I never said sorry for the way I treated you. I had stuff going on, I had a lot of issues, but I didn’t stop to think that maybe you had stuff going on too, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed stuck for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights, before he sank into his seat a little bit. “That’s okay, I forgive you. You didn’t know I had stuff going on at the time, I shouldn't have been mad at you, either. I took it out on you, but really, I had issues with someone else.”

The name was on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak your next words, the static of the intercom requesting your order made the both of you jump, and Thomas rolled down the window. It took a moment, deciding as quickly as you could and putting in an order for what it was that you were craving as your stomach rumbled again, that typical greasy smell of fast-food drifting through the open window.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the transaction, reaching out to turn the music up a little bit as you switched over to a classical station, finding the latest chart-toppers to be a little overwhelming in the moment, but late-hour classical piano and violin notes were much more comfortable. The bags were hot in your lap as Thomas handed them over clutching his McFluffy in your hand carefully and staring down longingly at the chunks of chocolate candy and caramel sauce through the lid, somewhat regretting your decision not to get one when he’d offered you one.

Parking up at the back, a little bit away from where everyone else was, and you unclipped your seatbelt, watching him do the same, before he was pushing his chair a little further back and getting comfortable. You handed him over his cheeseburger, and the fries that followed, stealing one from his portion and watching as he grinned, sitting them on his lap and unwrapping the burger, while you opened up a box of nuggets, offering one to him.

You sprinkled some salt over the box, shaking the nuggets after he’d taken one to mix the seasoning, but you couldn't eat one, couldn't focus, not when a certain question was still hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s up? They make it wrong? It’s pretty hard to mess up chicken nuggets.” He teased, leaning over to inspect them and winking cheekily as he plucked another from the large box, popping it into his mouth and chewing happily, a sound made as if to confirm to you that they were okay, but the food wasn’t what was bothering you.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise you’ll answer honestly?” his brows furrowed, but he nodded, taking another large bite of his burger. You hesitated, picking at the edges of the bag, ripping the brown paper slowly, and you sighed. “That woman in the bar, that was Teresa, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened at the mention of her name, his face falling, and he was stiff as his head turned away from you to stare out of the dashboard, and your lips pursed, anxiety coursing through you at the time that it took him to reply. He chewed slowly, eventually swallowing his mouthful, and you took a cautious bite out of a chicken nugget as you waited. “Yes.”

You nodded, keeping it to yourself and looking through the bag for a packet of ketchup, opening up the small tub and dunking the savoury treat inside, swirling it around, and eating the other half. You licked salt from your lips as you finished, and turned back to look at him, where he was staring down at his food, a confused look on his features. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He took a breath, seeming to have an answer ready to go, as though he’d anticipated your words, before his jaw snapped shut, and he put his burger down, sighing a little and nibbling on his lower lip, before giving in. “I didn’t want you to know.” You raised your brows, not the answer you were expecting, and he turned to look at you, taking in your expression, and shrugging a little. “You said you wanted honesty.”

“But why?”

“Why didn’t I want you to know that was her?” You nodded, and he took a bite of his food, prolonging the suspense as he procrastinated on his answer. “I guess,” He spoke through his food, grimacing a little upon realising, and you couldn't help your smile, eating another one of your chicken nuggets. “Because you’re nothing like her, and what we have isn’t the same, and I didn’t want you to have to cross with her.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t pause this time, stiff once again as he gave you the truth without even considering lying, and you felt conflicted. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to reach out and comfort him, or comfort yourself and put your walls back up; in the end, the person best at comforting you was Thomas, and so you needed to be that for him. Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his arm, and he jumped at the contact, seeming shocked by it. He turned to look at you, eyes dropping to where your hand was sitting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t have anything to be mad at you for, Tommy. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” You whispered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to sit on your cheek, his face dropping to bump his nose with your own, sharing a breath and nudging into you.

“Just so you know, this is one of those moments that I would kiss you, if we’d already had our first kiss.”

“I’ll remember that.” You grinned, bumping back against him, before pulling away, and eating a chicken nugget as he whined slightly at the loss of intimacy.

“She, uh, she was a paramedic. You reminded me of her, at first.” You turned, realising that in the interest of honesty, he was going to tell you it all; the information that other members of the team skirted around and answered vaguely, a mystery that had been locked up tight to keep you out of, all of them having gotten hurt in some way. “She had the same attitude you did, she didn’t really let people in; a lot of walls. We were.. something. She didn’t want to put a label on it, she wanted me behind closed doors but never wanted me near her in front of the rest of the team. She had boundaries, she wanted me to come over late but never wanted me to stay the night, she wanted to have dinner and drinks but never in public. It felt exciting, but wrong. But I couldn't stop.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to tell me this.” He sniffed a little, eating his fries quietly and shaking his head a little as he relived the memories.

“I want you to know.” You felt touched that he wanted to share one of his deepest pains with you, but it was scary, because it meant you had to do the same. “I should have seen the signs, she always wanted more, and she never wanted to settle down, kind of like you.” His words cut a little, stinging, despite knowing them to be true. “She said she was leaving one day, out of the blue, and I blamed myself for it. We got into an argument, she didn’t even tell me she was moving house until she asked me to sign her transfer papers. We yelled a lot, and I was upset, so I signed them and told her to just leave. She did.”

“Is, uh, is that the day that-”

“Newt got hurt? Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “She left, and I was upset, and about an hour later, we got a call. I’d been too busy pacing my office and seething over it that I didn’t call in for a substitute. Newt told me it was okay, he’d been comforting me. He went alone on that call, got stuck under material that had fallen on his leg. Minho found him and carried him out after he passed out.”

He crushed the empty cardboard carton in his hand, the sudden sound making you twitch at the shock, and he whispered an apology upon sensing the environment he’d created.

“Newt’s been my best friend since I was a kid, and because of my feelings, he got hurt. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, but there were just so many similarities, it was overwhelming. I didn't want you to meet her, because you're nothing like her.”

“I’m not? Kinda’ sounds like we’re the same.” You finished your food, packing the wrapped back into the bag, and facing him more confidently as you turned in your chair, and he chuckled.

“You’re nothing like her. She may have been what I loved once, but you’re something entirely different.” He picked up his ice-cream, peeling back the lid on it and poking at the contents with a smile on his face now as he mixed the toppings in. “You’re sweet, you get along with everyone and you want to be with us, I can tell, even if you were going to leave at first. You.. you want me, you don’t hide it. I like that. You’ve spared my best friend a lot of pain instead of causing it, and you make Brenda feel like a woman again when she’s surrounded by men, and you cook with Fry. You’re a real part of our family, I don’t think she ever was.”

Once he deemed it thoroughly mixed, he took a large spoonful of it, holding it up and poking it against your smile lightly.

“Take a bite, I know you want some. You can share mine.”

You did as told, accepting the ice-cream he was offering to you, and relishing in the sweet flavour. He took his own bite, and despite how happy you were, there was still a pang of lingering guilt as you kept back your secrets from him after he’d told you his. “You’re not the first firemen I’ve been involved with.”

“I figured as much.” You were a little surprised, pausing in your words as he looked at you like it was no big deal, and he shrugged, offering you another spoonful. “I mean, I figured you had to have some kind of history in a firehouse, with your transfer record, more switches than a lightbulb sees.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his joke a little. “Well, you were right. In my first house, I was straight out of the academy and young, and there was a fireman. He was charming, and very attractive, and he had this way that made my heart race.” You reached up, wiping a stray piece of ice-cream for the edge of Thomas’ lip. “Like you do.”

“I make your heart race?” He was smirking, liking knowing he had such an effect on you, and you redirected your attention to the dessert, turning the spoon he was bringing to his mouth and stealing the spoonful, the chill helping to calm your flushing features.

“You know you do.” You swallowed the treat, licking the sugary taste from your lips. “He had a previous injury, and a drug problem. I was young and naïve, and he wanted the ambulance stock for the pain so he could avoid surgery. When the truth came out, I took the fall and lost my job, while he got off with a reprimand and being put on probation. I had to move to a whole new state to escape it and find a new firehouse. When someone tried to get close to me there, I panicked and thought they would use me again. I moved, and I moved, and I moved. Whenever someone got close, I panicked. I got confused. I wanted family, and I was so set on finding that perfect family that I never stopped to let anyone in, until I came to ‘21, and encountered a moody lieutenant.”

Thomas grinned, cold lips pressing to your cheek as he ducked down, and you squirmed at the slightly sticky feeling of melted ice-cream, the cardboard cup empty as it had been shared between you both.

“My real family, there’s not much to say about them. I don’t have much, my mother hasn’t spoken to me in a while, she sends a birthday card every year, and that's about all there is for me. Until I found all of you.”

“It was just me and my mom when I was a kid, and there was a house fire. She’s never been quite right since, I grew up looking after her, and Newt was the kid across the road who brought me trays of food his mom made for us, and who brought me the homework sheets when I had to leave school early. He’s my family, too. This whole squad is.”

You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest from the confessions, from finally trusting someone enough to tell them your story, feeling the burn of tears in the back of your throat, but you were too tired to cry, having no tears left to give. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can we go home now?” He nodded, starting the car back up, and you leaned over the centre console a little to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him turn to press a kiss to the top of your head. “When we get there, I want to go to bed, and I want you to stay the night, and then I want to spend the whole day with you tomorrow, in front of our family, without hiding anything.”

He took a second to reply, letting out an unsteady laugh, before starting up the car and nodding for you as you pulled back. “I would fucking love that.”

[cryptiql]

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Explosive

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott

The erupting volcano was almost sedate compared to the fraying tempers in the danger zone.

For @whumptober-archive’s day 5 “I’ve got red in my ledger” using the prompt broken nose.  Today was tough - I actually started poking at alt. prompts for a while, but they didn’t want to flow, either.  Still, we got somewhere in the end!

The sound of a breaking nose was distinctive.  Cartilage crumpled, bone shattered, and it all combined into a unique symphony that once heard once, was never forgotten again.

Gordon had known that Scott was having trouble with some rescuees; it was hard not to, when their loud and explosive protests had been broadcasting clearly through Scott’s open comm. That was the whole reason he’d left the other part of the danger zone – a small town directly in the path of a leisurely yet unrelenting volcanic eruption – to Virgil and Alan in order to back their big brother up.  Sure, Virgil probably could corral their reluctant rescuees with a combination of his seemingly-eternal patience and sheer bulk, but if Scott’s Commander persona wasn’t getting through, then Gordon wasn’t a fan of throwing Virgil into the mix. Alan wasn’t even a consideration.

He’d recommended himself, John had agreed, and Scott hadn’t even given any indication that he’d heard him over the increasingly-aggressive sounding rescuee, so he went.

Unfortunately, it sounded very much like he hadn’t got there in time.  There was, of course, a chance that Scott had snapped and been the first to lash out, but Gordon was doubtful that that was the case, even if he’d personally prefer it over Scott being the victim.  Scott was good at keeping his temper under control on rescues, provided none of his family were threatened – and as he was alone in his sector of the danger zone, there was no way they were successfully threatening the rest of them. Ergo, the one with the freshly broken nose was Scott, and Gordon was incredibly displeased at that.

They were still shouting, none of their voices tinged with the tell-tale thickness of a broken nose, and the sound of more contact echoed across the comm.

Gordon accelerated a little more, breaking into a risky jog as he closed in on Scott’s location. Ungrateful and difficult rescuees were the worst, especially when they got violent towards his brothers.  Scott could, in theory, handle it – although it was sounding rather like this time he couldn’t – but Kayo was the only other one of his siblings whose self-defence skills were greater than simply passable so Gordon often ended up as some form of defence.

That didn’t mean he liked doing it.  They were there to help people, not fight them.

He slowed his pace again on the final approach, wanting to get a visual on the situation before actually getting involved.  Blue and yellow wasn’t the best for stealth, but if no-one was actively looking for someone else nearby, he could disguise his presence reasonably well.

There were three of them, all yelling loudly.  Smart businessmen in suits, but one was built a lot like Virgil and his face was a similar colour to Thunderbird Three as he roared at Scott.  Gordon’s brother was backed up against a crumbling building that looked like it had been victimised by the warning quakes – another concern to keep an eye on – with one hand cupping his face in a way that made it perfectly clear that he was the one with the broken nose and the other balled into a fist of frustration.

His restraint was admirable; Gordon could tell that his temper was seething, and that the temptation was there to lash out in retaliation, but so far he hadn’t stooped to their level.

Gordon’s job was to make sure he didn’t.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” he inquired, stepping over some other quake-caused rubble as he made his presence known – still far enough away that they couldn’t just take a swing at him.  “You know, this area is in the path of a whole load of lava and leaving would be a really good idea.”

“We’re not leaving!” the red-faced hulk snarled.  To Gordon’s relief, he turned away from Scott to face him instead.  “Get your fancy machines over here and protect my property.”

One of those, was he? Gordon wished he was surprised, but the arrogant, sharply dressed businessmen almost always cared more for their property than their lives.  It made them incredibly tiring to deal with.

“Sir, that’s a wall of lava bearing down on us,” he pointed out, taking another step closer.  “We can’t stop it, just get everyone out of its path before they end up like the residents of Pompeii.”

And Herculaneum, John’s voice snarked in the back of his head, although John himself was too busy directing Virgil and Alan while keeping an eye on the volcano itself to contribute to the conversation.

Red turned to a rather impressive shade of purple instead.  “I demand that you protect my property,” the man exploded, rather like the erupting volcano itself.  “It’s worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

Considering the Tracys ranked somewhere particularly impressive in the list of richest families in the world, Gordon probably could.  The attending Thunderbirds alone were likely worth more than whatever it was he was trying to protect.  He knew better than to mention that, though.

“That volcano really doesn’t care,” he said instead, which probably wasn’t much better.  Movement behind the men facing him indicated that Scott was doing the smart thing and getting out of his cornered situation, although Gordon wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was being smart enough to leave the confrontation entirely.

“I don’t care what the volcano thinks,” purple-face yelled, lunging forwards.  Gordon had been wondering when he’d snap again.

Already on guard, and not hemmed in against a building with nowhere to go, it was a piece of cake to duck down beneath the flailing arm, watch him overbalance, then grab his wrist and yank him into a submission hold.

“Hey!”  The other men reacted, but Gordon glared at them and they halted in their tracks.

“Look,” he told the struggling man.  “Our job is people, not properties, and we’re not leaving you to die so either you come with us peacefully, or I’ll force you.”  He tightened his grip.  “And we do not appreciate being attacked for trying to save your sorry asses.”

“Gordon!” Scott scolded, although his name came out all mangled thanks to the broken nose. Gordon elected to ignore him.

“There’s nothing International Rescue can do to stop the volcano destroying whatever it wants to destroy,” he continued.  Purple-face gaped breathlessly, while the other two watched.  “So are you going to go to the evac zone willingly, or do I have to force you?”

Scott’s hand clamped down on his own shoulder, but Gordon continued to ignore him in favour of waiting for the answer.

It didn’t take long.

“I’ll go, I’ll go! Let me go and I’ll go right now!”

Like many of their more aggressive encounters, it was all bravado shielding a delicate ego.  Gordon released him and quickly stepped backwards, out of range of any other potential attacks – pushing Scott out of the way as he did – but it seemed that this one actually knew when he was beaten.

A dark look, an under-the-breath grumble that was probably some version of the cliché I’ll get you for this, and the man scarpered.  The other two, who were almost certainly just lackeys, followed hot on his heels, and Gordon watched them go with narrowed eyes.

“Gordon,” Scott repeated again, all nasally and disapproving.  He rolled his eyes – it wasn’t like Scott wouldn’t have done the same or worse had their situations been reversed – before turning to face his big brother.

“How did you let that guy get a hit on you?” he asked, mostly as a distraction and not because he was interested in the answer.  Scott huffed, then winced.

Gordon closed the gap between them and reached for his cheek, carefully prying the concealing hand out of the way so he could see the damage properly.

“Gordon-”

“There’s no-one else left in this sector, Virgil and Alan have the rest of it under control, and that lava’s taking its sweet time approaching,” he reminded him coolly.  “There is plenty of time for me to check you over."  He lay his hand gently on Scott’s cheek, pushing himself up on tip-toe to be closer to eye level.

His nose was going to need re-setting; Gordon could do it right there, but it’d be without painkillers, whereas if they waited until they were back to Thunderbird Two they’d have the full medical compliment, including Virgil.  Blood dripped sluggishly down, crossing Scott’s upper lip and dripping periodically onto his lower, and the classic twin black eyes were already beginning to blossom.

Scott suffered the inspection impatiently, switching his weight from foot to foot and glancing around the danger zone with an angsty air.  Gordon was too used to his big brother’s quirks to be bothered by any of that.

“You’re getting some beautiful shiners,” he declared, swiping away the next dribble of blood with his thumb before releasing Scott’s head.  The look Scott gave him could only be interpreted as thank you, Captain Obvious.  “No light-headedness, double-vision, or any other signs of concussion?”

“I’m fine,” came the muffled, irritated, response.  Gordon suspected he was at least partially annoyed with himself for being jumped in the first place.  “We have an evacuation to finish.”  It came out more like we hab an ebacuadun do binid.

Gordon eyed him critically, well aware that Scott wouldn’t admit to anything if he thought he could just push through it, but concurred.

He changed his mind approximately four seconds later, when Scott stumbled and swayed slightly.

“No light-headedness?” he repeated pointedly, fingers firmly wrapped around his brother’s bicep and holding him upright.

Scott didn’t acknowledge that with a verbal response, but the way he tugged to keep walking was enough for Gordon.

“Change of plan,” he chirped, taking the lead and guiding a somewhat reluctant Scott straight towards Thunderbird Two.  “Virgil and Alan finish off the evac while I give that head of yours a proper scan and we’ll see what’s wrong.  Well, more wrong than usual, I mean.”  He ducked a half-hearted swipe and tightened his grip when Scott threatened to overbalance again.  “John, you get that?”

“F.A.B.,” their perpetually eavesdropping brother agreed, appearing above his wrist.  “Virgil and Alan have been updated and the local authorities informed about the dangerous rescuees.”

“Perfect,” Gordon said. “Hear that, Scott?  You’ve got nothing to do except let me check you over, and I’ve got nothing to do except check you over, so let’s go do that and make sure you didn’t get a concussion.”

“I’m not concussed,” Scott protested thickly.

“Which is exactly what a concussed Scott Tracy would say,” Gordon pointed out.  Scott stumbled again and he graduated from holding his bicep to wrapping his arm around his waist.  “It’s just one measly little scan, Scott.  It won’t bite.”

The glare he got in response to that was almost enough to convince him that Scott was probably fine. Almost.

Gordon chuckled as they approached the large green Thunderbird.  Her module was open, with rescuees milling around concernedly, so he made a beeline straight for the cockpit, Scott in tow.  His brother stumbled again, and Gordon firmly pushed him to sit in one of the passenger seats before retrieving a medscanner.

No concussion, but there was a minor head injury – not including the obvious.  Gordon supressed a growl that would’ve been aimed at people out of earshot regardless, and dabbed lightly at the blood still sluggishly trickling down with a clean gauze.  His brother attempted to take over, or at the least bat him away, but Gordon caught his hand in his and guided it firmly to rest on his lap.

“Let me do it,” he scolded lightly.  “I can actually see where it is.”

It was a pretty feeble reason, admittedly – mirrors existed – but Gordon didn’t particularly care because he had no intentions of passing over the ministrations to anyone else anyway. If he did, he might just cave to the roaring instincts to teach the man – men – responsible a detailed lesson on why no-one hurt Gordon’s brothers.

It was much better for everyone involved if he kept himself busy.

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 5 - Sadism -Tomura Shigaraki/Reader

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,721 Summary: Tomura has a lot of fun hurting you. Contains: rape/noncon*; Sadism, biting, painplay, 

=====

"Beg me to stop." He rasps into your ear- and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, in and in until something hot slides down your chest.

Everything about you trembles, "Stop..."

Pain explodes over your ass- you yelp, jump beneath him- and his mouth, still wet with spit or blood rubs against the shell of your ear. "Louder." Teeth nip at the thin, sensitive skin there as his lips split into a grin, "I want everyone to hear you."

Your fingers twist into his sheets, "Stop! Please, stop! Don't-"

And his hand meets your ass again, the imprint of his palm makes your skin sting, burn with each impact- and they keep coming. Over and over until you're trying to scramble away, pressing yourself down into the bed to get any respite- but the hand at your waist keeps you near enough, keeps your hips angled back for him to continue his assault. Another hit has his bitten nails scratch you and you're gasping, whining, "Hurts, hurts, Tomura,"

And the hand at your hips twists into your hair, yanks you back- you grab at his wrist on instinct, move back with him as he pulls you up to your knees again, further until your back presses entirely to his front. Still, he does not release his grip, pulls until your head is against his shoulder, neck long and arched and exposed. His other hand gropes at your stinging, welted ass, makes you squirm back against his hard cock. "That's the point."

In an instant you're face-first in the bed again, his weight coming down on the hand on your head while he reaches past you, grabs something. The weight eases, his hand disconnecting from your hair to slide down the long line of your back- and his nails dig in, rake four perfect red lines through your skin. You hiss, arch away from his hand- and with your knees still planted, you're acutely aware of how you're presenting to him. The hand stops at the small of your back, presses there in warning to keep still- and moves again.

He parts the lips of your cunt, draws one finger from the leaking hole there down to the swollen bud of your clit. One touch has your thighs shaking, has your glad your face is buried in the blankets to hide your shame. He shuffles his hands for a moment- and something touches either side of your clit. He rubs there- and it's too firm to be his fingers, slightly cool, smooth with a bit of a hard edge and- you stiffen as the switch flips. You turn your head as far as you can to look back at him- and he meets you with that wide, terrible grin. "Wait! Wait, don't, please!"

Tomura lets out one pleased breath as you tense- and he lets the clothespin close over your swollen clit. The noise that leaves you isn't human, the raw animal instinct of pain makes you freeze, thighs shaking as every muscle in your lower body pulls taut in the simultaneous need to stop moving, to ease the pain and to get it off. Shock and agony leave tears in your eyes as you struggle to hang on.

"How's that? Too much for you?" His laugh is the only thing you can hear past your own broken gasps- and his palms rub in soothing strokes on the smooth expanse of your thighs.

"It hurts," You whimper.

"Good." Pain eclipses all other thought- until something warm is prodding at the slick between your legs. His hand is cool on your overheated, bruising rear while he holds you still. "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to feel that every second of it."

He waits for you to beg- lets the head of his cock nudge the underside of your swollen, clamped clit. The twinge of pain brings your voice back- "No, no, wait!"

His cock splits you open so hard, so fast, you don't even feel it for a long moment; the pain of the backs of your ass cheeks meeting his thin, taut abdomen, the hard lines of his hipbones is the first thing you feel. It chokes down any other words you might've had, smothers them into submission- and then he withdraws. As he pulls out, it tugs against the sensitive lips of your pussy-- and your clit. A wail rises in your throat- and the sound of Tomura's laughter pierces your ears.

He doesn't give you the luxury of building pace, of the slow ascension to decent friction, no- one hand tangles into your hair again, the other at your hip while he fucks you. With your reddened ass that smarts with each impact of his hips and your clit that throbs with each downstroke, you get no rest, no moment to catch your breath.

Tomura leans over you, his thrusts turning shallow and easy. The heat from his body warms your back, but there's no warmth in his words. "You're going to cum for me." The hand that was wrapped in your hair scratches its way down your body- and circles around until his fingertips press into the soft mound just above your pussy. "Just like this."

And he finds the hood of your aching clit, the sensitive flesh beneath throbbing with every beat of your heart and he rubs.

Pain. Pain has your back aching, breath coming in fast, unfulfilling gasps. Every motion has him tugging on that thin skin, makes the clothes pin bob between your legs. And it hurts, it hurts, and his cock is moving in you and it feels good-

it comes out of nowhere. Masked under the pain, raw sensation has driven you up and up until something uncomfortably close to pleasure rears its head. The realization makes your head spin, that you're already so close, your pussy pulsing around him. His hand on your hips pulls you back into his next thrust, drives down- and it's enough.

You clench around him- and your clit's sensitivity shoots through the roof. For one agonizing second all you can feel is that unrelenting, cruel pressure- until he's knocking it off. The removal is nearly as painful, the rush of hot blood back into the crushed nerve endings and it doesn't matter because it's stopped and you're cumming, clit throbbing in time with your pulse, counterpoint to your cunt's merciless grip on his still-moving cock-

and as soon as you can take a breath, you're screaming.

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi's seen all sorts of things in his time lurking around any space that abhors heroes- which is mostly among villains. They're not good people, but this was something else. He didn't have any delusions about Shigarki's nature- he'd tried to kill Dabi in a childish fit when they first met after all- but he hadn't expected that. Nor had anyone else, from everyone else's reactions.

Jin had half a mind to charge in there after please, stop, but Atsuhiro and Shuichi had been enough voice of reason. Maybe if it was anyone else displaying their unsavory tendencies they would've let him, but it was Shigaraki. What could they do, really? Get dusted for trying to get him to keep it in his pants or take his morbid conquests elsewhere? Atsuhiro corrals them into stepping out, to "give our esteemed leader some privacy." and even Dabi with his burnt-out taste buds can taste the derision.

Kurogiri's response is the least surprising; he sits in one corner, quiet and unconcerned with his charge's hobbies. Toga- well. He should've expected it, her obsession with people all beat up and covered in blood. Her cheeks flush pink, eyes going far-off as her lips curl up. He can't blame her- it's exactly what he's feeling. At the broken-off scream, they each excused themselves to separate rooms, probably to do the same thing.

If he were being honest it might've been the hardest Dabi's cum in weeks.

He meets Shigaraki's eyes after, while his leader trudges to the bathroom to clean himself up. They're each unconcerned with the other's presence and Dabi figures, sure, whatever. They're all wanted murderers anyway and Shigaraki knows well enough to clean up his messes- and it's certainly faster and easier than Dabi's Quirk.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the next morning, after everyone's gathered again-- Shuichi's face the only one exposed to look uncomfortable, actually-- is the voice from Shigaraki's room. The door clicks open and- everyone in the room's thoughts stutter to a stop as your shoes scuff the floor, your voice carrying through the thin walls.

"Sorry, guess I passed out." And you laugh; nobody in the main room even breathes. Had he not killed you? Why?

"You needed it." Shigaraki says.

"I really did need that." You say, a double meaning heavy on your tongue. "Thank you."

Kurogiri stands, approaches the little hallway just as you step around the corner. Your eyes go wide at the unfamiliar faces, scan across the room before looking away in shame, one hand rising to rub at the back of your neck. It draws Dabi's eye down- and the pieces begin to fit together in his head.

Everywhere above the collar of your shirt is covered in dark, unhealed bites, a perfect outline of Shigaraki's hand- sans middle finger- is imprinted in your skin in purple bruises. Even on your chin, Dabi sees it now- a pink halfmoon of what can only be teeth marks.

Shigaraki steps into the room behind you- and Dabi's seen him when he wants to kill. No, no, Shigaraki just looks bored. That had to be it- he was right about the boss being a sadist, but you. Dabi's cock is so hard it hurts, aches between his legs as you speak with Kurogiri, tell him where you want to go. A masochist able to keep up with even Shigaraki's sick fantasies? It takes every ounce of control he has not to palm himself right then and there.

"Are you gonna be on Cloud Seven tonight?" Shigaraki asks, unconcerned as Kurogiri's warp expands out.

You tap your chin, "Probably not 'till after six, but I'll see you then." You wave to Shigaraki, who shrugs and turns to go back into the dark hallway- and just like that you're gone.

=====

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[euphoricsunflowers]

magnetic — yoo kihyun

a/n: another song fic woo also kiki’s vocals in this song are so ✨✨ i guess i can’t love everything i post so i’m not super feeling this but i hope you like it 🥺♥️ (once again unrelated gif i’m just obsessed w fantasia)

word count: 1.1k

content: not super dom/sub roles but idk reader is the top, fem!reader, teasing, biting, riding le dick

summary: he can’t help wanting to hold you close, he’s so cold without your warmth. you’re magnetic, always pulling him in whether he wants to be pulled or not.

“kiss me,” you mumble, and he’s all too eager to fulfill your request, lips coming together easily, like you were made for each other, molding to each other’s curves. he holds you tightly, as if gripping your waist with any less pressure would mean him risks losing the beautiful embodiment of love in heart and he risks you leaving him. he’s feeling so hot, being all up on you and your space, and at this point he doesn’t ever want to be cold again.

“kihyun, darling, slow down, let’s take our time,” you giggle at his desperation, not a single hint of hesitation resides in his soul when it comes to you, “slow, darling, we have all night.”

“i-i can’t, not with you, i need this, please,” he begs, pulling you into more frenzied kisses, you already take his breath away, why even bother trying to breathe in your presence? it’s suffocating in the best possible way.

“mmm, then beg for me, pretty,” you whisper against his lips in between kisses, leaving him so disheveled and disoriented. you’re like a force of your own, your own energy. like a liquor he can’t help wanting to get drunk off of.

but you want him to beg? alright then, he’ll play your game, “please, y/n, i’m losing my mind right now, i can’t forget the way you touch me. i can’t resist how badly i need you, please, just don’t tease me.”

“oh, but it’s so fun, kiki,” you mumble, before giving in slightly, “alright, alright, i’ll stop.” and immediately he wonders if it was a mistake to be so impatient, because suddenly he’s thrown into the deep end and he doesn’t know how to swim. not that he minds drowning in you, but he wasn’t ready to be so overwhelmed by kisses on his neck turning to harsh bites that make him want to simultaneously cry in pain and blush madly. he liked the idea of having love marks from you on him.

he also wasn’t ready for your hand to tease him over his pants, leaving him whining and crying out in small bursts of pain. the sounds he makes are all too pretty, and you seem determined to draw more and more out of him, taking until he has nothing left to give.

“s-shit,” he groans, pulling you up to kiss you even more, attempting to pull off your shirt in the process, which you happily throw off to some unknown corner of the room.

“like what you see?” you tease, but there’s no embarrassment, not anymore.

“of course i do,” he mumbles,cupping your cheeks gently to kiss you once more, this time a bit softer, before smirking “i’d like it more if you were on top of me right now, though.”

“oh, that can definitely be arranged,” you push him, a tad rougher than expected, until he stumbled back towards the bed, taking advantage of his shock to push him down onto the bed, “like this? or maybe you’d like it if your dick was inside me right now?”

“o-oh god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he chuckles dryly, “yes, yes please, y/n, please ride me.”

“of course, babe,” you say as you climb off him to throw your pants and underwear off as he does the same. that may have not been the sexiest strip, but it gets the job done, “oh, and one other thing, kiki.”

“what is it?”

“don’t call me y/n, right now,” you say, placing your fingers by his lips and he gets the idea, coating them with saliva. he watches you as your fingers enter and leave your pussy, and you groan at how he reaches his hand out to massage your clit lightly, “call me daddy.”

the room falls silent as he keeps his eyes on you, genuinely confused because there’s no way you just said that, “i— what?”

“hehe, i’m just messing with you, ki,” you smile, and when he doesn’t even notice it, you’re already lowering yourself onto him, and you both groan and curse until he’s filled you all the way to the hilt,“oh god, you look so good under me, you know?”

“oh really?” he breathes, running a hand through his hair as you slowly start to ride him, “because you look really fucking good on top of me.”

“do i now?” you muse with a smirk, letting your hands with fingers covered in your scent rest on his chest, and every inhale makes him smell you, “did you miss me?”

“yes,” he groans, reaching out to hold your hand.

you use a finger from the hand he was holding to draw your nail against his side, and he immediately shivers under you, “miss the way i touched you?”

“h-hah, yeahh, missed that too,” he stumbles on his words, moaning out more as you gain speed, riding him with a feverish intensity that he can’t escape again. his head feels foggy as the pleasure takes over, every bit of rationality in his head being replaced by the warmth building throughout his body, the energy filling him up.

“did you really consider calling me daddy just now?”

“y-yeah,” he admits, somewhat shyly, but again, he’s too far gone to truly be embarrassed. that’s something he’d worry about the second clarity returned to him, but until then, he’s simply reveling in the beautiful pleasure he feels.

you smirk, “dirty boy, i want you to cum really good and hard for me, okay?” he nods, thrusting up to match your pace, and squeezing your hand really tightly when he feels it coming. he makes such cute little sounds as it builds up, his orgasm just seconds away, and it makes you think of what he’d do if you stopped and took it away from him… next time.

he cums with a soft cry, holding onto your shoulders as the warmth washes over him, and he doesn’t hear you say anything, but he feels your walls pulsate around him and your weight collapses on top of him. that post orgasmic feeling has him feeling so high he could touch the clouds, so warm and comfy in your hold.

and even as you’ve both calmed down, he still refuses to let you go, “please just stay with me.”

you were magnetic, a force pulling him back to you every time you left in the morning. he only hopes each time that he won’t wake up cold.

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @baa-nana @foenixs @sunflowerkeen @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies

[bts-hyperfixation]

Dirty clothes M 18+

Jin X reader

Words:1.4k

Warnings: oral (f), unprotected sex, pretty vanilla honestly

Synopsis: Jin comes home after a long day to find Y/N asleep in his bed

It was late-afternoon when you arrived at your boyfriend's house, you knew he and the boys weren’t home but you needed to fetch your wallet. You’d left it there the last time you stayed over, using the payment method on your phone for the time being, but now you needed your ID for a night out with the girls tomorrow. You took the spare key from under its hiding place and unlocked the door, heading straight for his room down the left hallway. Entering the room, you yawned, staying up all night listening to your best friend complain about her latest love life failure had left you on very little sleep when you were woken up for work this morning. You check the time on your phone, 6pm, groaning you glance at Jin’s bed, it looked so inviting. Perfectly made, marshmallow soft, and filled will pillows and the smell of him. Unfortunately, Jin had a major issue with outdoor clothes being in his bed and you had no energy to search for something else to wear let alone get changed. Maybe if you just lay on top? Just relaxed for five minutes? Kicking your shoes off you flopped on top of the covers and curled in to a ball, just for five minutes....

As the boys trickled in from the studio, clearly worked up from the days practice, they noticed the spare key on the table just inside the door.

“Well someone has a visitor.” J-hope chuckled.

“Nah, y/n probably just forgot to take it back out with her earlier” your boyfriend shrugged opening the door to his bedroom “or not...” he smirked seeing your sleeping form in his bed. During your nap you had managed to completely destroy the once neat bed, pillows were strewn across the floor and you were now wrapped snuggly in the duvet. He sat on the end of the bed, the movement causing you to stir slightly, mumbling something about 5 more minutes.

“Did you wear your work uniform in my bed?!” he whined at the realisation, not caring that he was a bit loud. This woke you right up.

“I’m sorry Jin I know you don’t like it but I was just so tired, I’ll make it up to you, I’ll change the bed, I’ll treat you to dinner. I’ll... I’ll” you stammered out in one long breath until he put his hand on your cheek stilling you. Knowing how long his day had been you felt guilty having ruined the bed he had most likely been looking forward to getting into. He pulled you up to sit on his lap. Nuzzling his face in to your neck, still sleepy you fall into him, letting him hold you there. Honestly the mood he was in right now the only thing better than his bed was finding you already there.

“I know how we can fix it” his voice muffled as he kisses your sensitive skin. “how about no more clothes to bed full stop?” his hand comes up to work on the buttons of your work blouse. Your cheeks blush pink as all thoughts of napping clear from your mind. Removing your shirt, he then makes quick work of unsnapping your bra and moves to bite at the sensitive flesh. You let out a small cry at the sudden roughness of his touch. He lays you down on the bed to unbutton your jeans and slide them down, panties too.

“See? no more outdoor clothes, look how easy that was” his voice teasing as his eyes drag up your body. You giggle and pull your arms across your eyes trying to hide from his hungry stare. He makes short work of his own clothes before climbing on top of you, his leg pressing between your thighs. Moving your arm away, he pins it above your head before dipping to kiss you. It starts slow, loving and careful, clear that he had missed you and reassuring that this was much better than the sleep he had planned on having. The kiss deepened, becoming faster, needier, Jin bit at your bottom lip causing your hips to grind down onto his thigh.

“So wet already baby, were you dreaming about me?” you blush more, confirming his suspicions. “It’s okay, I'm sure it's difficult not to dream about me that way, I am worldwide handsome, you know?” the laughter in his eyes caused you to push him off in feigned annoyance, he lands on the bed next to you with an oof chuckling about how funny he thinks he is. You sit up and stick your nose in the air with a loud humpf.

He sits behind you, moving to straddle you. He encircles your waist with his long arms and pulls you flush against him, nearly getting you to give up your resolve right then and there. Kissing a trail along the back of your shoulders, he mumbles breathy apologies, the combination making you shiver. He tries to pull you back down to where you were, but you put up one last fight.

“Come on I won’t don’t it again” he pouts nearly making you giggle. You release a long sigh.

“You know, I’ve just had such a long day, I don’t think I can. My shoulders are killing and I just kinda want to lay down.” You tease as he takes the hint and starts massaging your back making you moan out just a little too loud. He bites your shoulder as punishment, not wanting his bandmates to hear you there. You shift out of his lap to lie on your front, signalling for him to keep going with his massage. Too tempted by your arse suddenly being available he shifts his hands further down until he is are kneading the bouncy flesh there. His head finds it way between your legs from there licking one long stripe along your folds, you whimper at the unexpected contact and reflexively move to clench your thighs. Jin stops you, instead flipping you to give him better access to your clit. His tongue works quick figure 8 motions around your bud as one of his fingers find its way to play with your arousal. With two fingers thoroughly coated, he slides them into you pumping quickly to match the pace of his mouth. You start to unravel quickly, still pent up from your dream. Your boyfriend’s pace never faltering as your breathing hitches.

“Cum for me baby” he coos staring up at you. His favourite thing in life to watch you unravel at his touch. Your core snaps at your release, coating Jin's hand in your juice. He licks his hand clean. Keeping very intense eye contact with you as you catch your breath. Unable to take it any longer, you grab the back of his neck fingers lacing into his hair and pull him down to kiss you. His erection rubs between your legs as you flip so you are now on top of him.

“I thought that you just wanted to lie down” he taunts mischievously “not that I mi..” you cut him off with another kiss and reach down to grab his cock. When it is lined up you waste no time sinking down on to it. Giving neither of you time to adjust you started grinding your hips into him, rocking back and forth on him in a torturous motion when all he wants to do is grab onto you and make you ride him with no mercy. He moves his hands to grab at your hips, but you stop him, not allowing him to touch. You slowly pull up to have just the tip left inside you before quickly falling back down, watching his face change at the teasing. You manage this a few more times before it becomes too much for him to stand, he doesn't let you stop him this time. You are flipped onto all fours and he re-enters you roughly from behind, this time with unrelenting speed. Jin's arm snakes around your waist pulling you against his chest so he can reach your clit better. He rubs your bud quickly, intent on building your high fast as he also bears his release. Both of you are wanting heavily at this point edging closer and closer to and orgasm. His pace behind you starts to stutter.

“Can I cum inside you” he questions through gritted teeth, you nod and he immediately releases himself. The felling of his hand on your clit and cock spasming inside you causes you to reach your high again and you fold back onto the bed Jin no longer able to hold both of your weights.

“I guess we really should change the sheets now” you mumble into the pillow. Jin laughs and pulls you in to cuddle.

“Maybe in a minute”

Masterlist

[twistedanddecayed]

Look At Me.

Summary: You’re done when Dean says you’re done. 

Characters: Dean x Reader.

Words: 2096

Warnings: Dirty talk, neck/throat grabbing (gif is a major hint at that taken from the upcoming movie 365 Dni), unprotected sex, male oral sex and fingering.

Not BETA’d so all typos are my own.  I don’t have a tag list, but if you’d like me to tag you in any upcoming work, let me know. 

_______

You should be in here alone but the moment the hot water had hit your body, it had woken you up in more than one way. Your hand had quickly slipped between your thighs once you’d cleaned yourself up, tracing over your folds until they slipped through and one low moan which you thought would have been silenced by the water had soon met his ears. He’d found you with one arm outstretched against the wall, your legs parted, fingers pumping into your cunt and the water spray occasionally hitting your clit - making your legs tremble and you bite your lip in a bid to be quiet. But Dean knew. Dean always seemed to know.

 You feel his cock at your ass, his hand covers yours and pulls your fingers from within you, only to replace them with his own long and thicker ones. He peppers kisses over your shoulder, grazing your skin with his teeth as he nibbles his way up to your neck and sucks gently over your pulse point. 

“What have I said about starting without me?”

“I hadn’t meant to.” 

“That’s what you always say.” He replies as your breath hitches as his fingers push into you fully until the knuckles of his fist are pressed flush against you.

“And I always mean it.”

“Which means you never learn,” he says before biting down a little harder, drawing a groan from you and has you bucking your hips back against him.

Water cascades down his back, steaming up the four glass walls which encase the two of you as his fingers pump in and out of you while his thumb brushes over your clit. You whimper his name, the single syllable rolls from your tongue and fills the small space as his fingers curve into a beckoning motion within you. He holds you there against him, writhing and desperate for release as he fucks you with his fingers. 

Reaching out, you press your palms against the shower walls as your legs begin to tremble, the heat that’s been building, laying thick in your belly ignites. The hot water makes you lightheaded and only adds to the overall sensation.

 “Please Dean,” you whine, arching your back and resting the back of your head against his shoulder. “Stop teasing and just make me cum.”

“For someone who hadn’t wanted me to join, you’re very demanding right now.” He slows his fingers on purpose, making you bite your tongue in an attempt to silence your protests. He’s waiting for you to complain, waiting for you to voice your annoyance purely so he can drag this out. You won’t bite. You won’t give him that and only when you remain silent does he say, “good girl.” His pace increases, his fingers driving into you once more at a pace that guarantees you to reach your climax at an alarming rate. “Come on princess, give me what I want.” 

Your legs part a little more, his thumb still rubbing circles against your clit but the ever so slight change in your position by doing so has his fingers entering you at a different angle, making your eyes flutter closed and the tightening in your belly to snap, your orgasm hitting with such force that no noise escapes your lips. You clench your eyes closed, your mouth falling open in a silent “oh” as your cunt pulses around his fingers, coating them thickly in your juices. “That’s my girl,” he says, his fingers continuing, not allowing you to recover and instead, builds you up to another within seconds. Your climax spurts over his hand and down your thighs, the arm wrapped around your waist now the only thing that holds you upright as your legs buckle under you completely.  

He gives you a moment to recoup your balance and ability to breathe normally before pulling his fingers from you, smearing your wetness over your thighs as he turns you around, his hand trailing up your body until it rests on your throat. Not hard, not enough to begin to make you feel choked but the mere presence of it there makes you want to feel it a little more. Your core squeezes at the thought of him applying more pressure. 

Dean scans your face, drinking in the sight of you, admiring the way you’ve come undone. Your eyes are still hazy and unfocused, your hair now damp from the heat and the spray of the shower. He waits for you to come back to him, to pull yourself out of the euphoric trance that he put you in. The second you can, you give him a smile. His hand relaxes, slips further up, gripping your jaw more than your neck now, his thumb smears over your lip and you can’t help but suck it into your mouth and swipe your tongue over it as you lock eyes with him, much like you would if you were sucking his cock. Dean loved it when you looked up at him as his dick filled your mouth. 

“Such a talented tongue you have there,” he praises.

“I could say the same for you. And fingers,” you add. You push his thumb from your lips,  dip your head and out of his grasp as you move past him. “Thanks for the morning wake up. The shower’s all yours.” 

“I don’t think so.” Dean’s tone is a warning. 

“I do.” you grin at him and attempt to give his face a light slap for good measure as you pass but he anticipates this, grabs your wrist before you can connect your hand to his flesh and grips the back of your neck with the other hand, spinning you around and forcing you to kiss him as he drops your wrist and pins you to him by splaying his hand over your lower back. 

He opens your mouth with his, forces his tongue against yours and kisses you hard and deep. The hand that was on the back of your neck moves upwards, gripping your skull as he continues to kiss you hard. Just as you’re beginning to feel breathless, almost dizzy from the way he claims your mouth and the heat from the water, he lets you go, his lips now no longer on yours though his hand still tangles within your hair. 

He pushes you down onto your knees, angles his cock towards you and pulls you towards it by your head. Your mouth opens before your lips meet the tip, your tongue swirling around where it can reach before he slips to the back of your throat and enters it without warning. Your eyes water, you slap his thighs in protest as your throat tightens and tries to expel him. He holds himself there for just a second or two more than he would usually before pulling back out and fucks your mouth in shallow thrusts. 

Each time he pulls out, leaving just the head of his cock remaining in your mouth, you circle your tongue over it, licking away the pre-cum which pearls there before flattening your tongue against his shaft once more as he pushes it towards your throat again. Both his hands lace through your hair, his hips rock back and forth like he’s sinking within your cunt. His eyes are fixed firmly on your mouth, watching as his thick cock disappears between your lips. Normally, he’d love to have you on the bed, your head hanging over the edge so that he can watch the bulge in your throat appear as he enters it, but this would have to do instead. 

The glass cage becomes hotter, the rough anti-slip tiles scrape against your knees but you say nothing - not that you could with his cock firmly buried within your mouth, several inches remain inside you with each thrust at all times.  You slacken your jaw, collect as much spit in your mouth as possible and when he thrusts forward, you hold his hips and sink your lips down his length and press your nose to his pubic bone, swallowing him completely. 

Dean hisses, tries not to buck his hips as a result of feeling your hot mouth envelope him but he can’t stop the grip his hands have in your hair or the string of cuss words that reach your ears as you look up at him. 

“Fuck,” he finishes, pulling you off his cock, spit dangles from your lips and you gulp in great lungfuls of air. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little light-headed.”

You make an mmmm noise in agreement. “Would hate for you to pass out before you get to finish.”

“How sweet of you, doll.” He grins, holding out his hand to you. Taking it, you’re pulled to your feet quickly with Dean turning ever so slightly to switch off the shower before giving you a gentle shove towards the shower door. The cold air which greets you once opened hardens your nipples and causes goosebumps to erupt over your skin. You quickly dry your feet on the mat, not wanting to slip and head back to the bedroom. You’re two steps away from the bed when you’re pushed on to it. “Don’t bother turning over, “ he says, gripping where your thighs meet your hips and pulling you back so that you’re on all fours before him. 

Leaning forward, you push your ass in the air and your face down, resting your forehead against the mattress and pushing your weight into your forearms. Dean runs his fingers over your folds, your slick still soaking them, making it easy for him to push two fingers within you. 

“Such a beautiful pussy,” he comments, watching as his fingers thrust slowly into you. He opens them up in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls before slipping them back inside, thrusting deeply but not rushed. 

“Please Dean,” you push back, “just fuck me.”

His fingers pull from you and as you turn your face to look over your shoulder, you see him licking clean his digits as he angles his cock with his other hand and presses the head to your core. “Remember you asked for this.” He says and before you’re able to respond, he pushes into you, bottoming out. You push your face into the mattress, using it to muffle your cries as he digs his fingers in your hips and snaps his hips to yours, thrusting into you with each one feeling deeper than the last. 

You know he won’t last as long as he would usually, especially not after the way he’d fucked your mouth previously. His thrusts are unrelenting, seemingly for his own pleasure but does a fine job of satisfying you at the same time. While there’s nothing lovingly about the way he drills into you and knowing you won’t cum from this, each drag of his cock makes up for it. He feels so good in you that you don’t care that you won’t reach another orgasm. 

You manage to lift your head, your pants fill the air, long breathy sighs are all you can manage as he continues to bury himself within you in such a way, you’re unsure where one thrust ends and the next starts as they blur into one. The bed creaks under the weight of your bodies and the force of his thrusts which forces the headboard to slam against the wall. With a growl of your name, Dean digs his fingers into your hips and pushes himself into you until his balls are pressed firmly against your ass. You can feel the throbs of his cock as he fills you with hot, sticky cum. Pulling out, he climbs from the bed and rummages through the chest of drawers standing against the opposite wall and throws a pair of panties your way for you to put on. He swipes a pair of boxers, steps into them and pulls them up until they snap into place on his hips. 

Laying on your back, you feel a smirk spreading over your lips as you take in his physique, unable to help yourself as you say, “and you wonder why I’m unable to keep my hands to myself.”

Dean crosses the room, rests a hand on the bed either side of your body and stares you in the eye, “I do yes, because I know I’m more than capable of giving you better than you can give yourself. And if you dare to challenge me on that, you’re going to lose.”

[96harmony96]

Chapter 1

I loved New York with the kind of mad passion I reserved for only one other thing in my life. The city was a microcosm of new world opportunities and old world traditions. Conservatives rubbed shoulders with bohemians. Oddities coexisted with priceless rarities. The pulsing energy of the city fueled international business bloodlines and drew people from all over the world.

And the embodiment of all that vibrancy, driving ambition, and world-renowned power had just screwed me to two toe-curlingly awesome orgasms.

As I padded over to her massive walk-in closet, I glanced at lauren jauregui’s sex-rumpled bed and shivered with remembered pleasure. My hair was still damp from a shower, and the towel wrapped around me was my only article of clothing. I had an hour and a half before I had to be at work, which was cutting it a little too close for comfort. Obviously, I was going to have to allot time in my morning routine for sex, otherwise I’d always be scrambling. Lauren woke up ready to conquer the world, and she liked to start that domination with me.

How lucky was I?

Because it was sliding into July in New York and the temperature was heating up, I chose a slim pair of pressed natural-linen slacks and a sleeveless poplin shell in a soft brown that matched my eyes. Since I had no hairstyling talent, I pulled my long drown hair back in a simple ponytail, then made up my face. When I was presentable, I left the bedroom.

I heard Lauren's voice the moment I stepped into the hallway. A tiny shiver moved through me when I realized she was angry, her voice low and clipped. she didn’t rile easily . . . unless she was ticked off with me. I could get her to raise her voice and curse, even shove her hands through her glorious shoulder-length mane of inky black hair.

For the most part, though, Lauren was a testament to leashed power. There was no need for her to shout when she could get people to quake in their shoes with just a look or a tersely spoken word.

I found her in her home office. She stood with her back to the door and a Bluetooth receiver in her ear. Her arms were crossed and she was staring out the windows of her Fifth Avenue penthouse apartment, giving the impression of a very solitary woman, an individual who was separate from the world around her, yet entirely capable of ruling it.

Leaning into the doorjamb, I drank her in. I was certain my view of the skyline was more awe-inspiring than her. My vantage point included her superimposed over those towering skyscrapers, an equally powerful and impressive presence. she’d finished her shower before I managed to crawl out of bed. her seriously addictive body was now dressed in two pieces of an expensively tailored three-piece suit—an admitted hot button of mine. The rear view of her showcased a perfect ass and a powerful back encased in a vest.

On the wall was a massive collage of photos of us as a couple and one very intimate one that she’d taken of me while I was sleeping. Most were pictures taken by the paparazzi who followed her every move. She was Lauren Jauregui, of Jauregui Industries, and at the ridiculous age of twenty-eight, she was one of the top twenty-five richest people in the world. I was pretty sure she owned a significant chunk of Manhattan; I was positive she was the hottest woman on the planet. And she kept photos of me everywhere she worked, as if I could possibly be as fun to look at as she was.

she turned, pivoting gracefully to catch me with her icy green gaze. Of course she’d known I was there, watching her. There was a crackling in the air when we were near each other, a sense of anticipation like the coiled silence before the boom of thunder. she’d probably deliberately waited a beat before facing me, giving me the opportunity to check her out because she knew I loved to look at her.

Dark and Dangerous. And all mine.

God . . . I never got used to the impact of that face. Those sculpted cheekbones and dark winged brows, the thickly lashed green eyes, and those lips . . . perfectly etched to be both sensual and wicked. I loved when they smiled with sexual invitation, and I shivered when they thinned into a stern line. And when she pressed those lips to my body, I burned for her.

Jeez, listen to yourself. My mouth curved, remembering how annoyed I used to get at pals who waxed poetic about their boyfriends’ good looks. But here I was, constantly awed by the gorgeousness of the complicated, frustrating, messed-up, sexy-as-sin woman I was falling deeper in love with every day.

As we stared at each other, her scowl didn’t lessen, nor did she cease speaking to the poor soul on the receiving end of her call, but her gaze warmed from its chilly irritation to scorching heat.

I should’ve gotten used to the change that came over her when she looked at me, but it still hit me with a force strong enough to rock me on my feet. That look conveyed how hard and deep she wanted to fuck me—which she did every chance she got—and it also afforded me a glimpse of her raw, unrelenting force of will. A core of strength and command marked everything Lauren did in life.

“See you at eight on Saturday,” she finished, before yanking off the earpiece and tossing it on her desk. “Come here, camila.”

Another shiver slid through me at the way she said my name, with the same authoritative bite she used when she said Come, Camila, while I was beneath her . . . filled with her . . . desperate to climax for her . . .

“No time for that, ace.” I backed into the hallway, because I was weak where she was concerned. The soft rasp in her smooth, cultured voice was nearly capable of making me orgasm just listening to it. And whenever she touched me, I caved.

I hurried to the kitchen to make us some coffee.

she muttered something under her breath and followed me out, her long stride easily gaining on mine. I found myself pinned to the hallway wall by a six feet, two inches of hard, hot male.

“You know what happens when you run, angel.” Lauren nipped my lower lip with her teeth and then soothed the sting with the caress of her tongue. “I catch you.”

Inside me, something sighed with happy surrender and my body went lax with pleasure at being pressed so close to her. I craved her constantly, so deeply it was a physical ache. What I felt was lust, but it was also so much more. Something so precious and profound that Lauren's lust for me wasn’t the trigger it would’ve been with another man. If anyone else had attempted to subdue me with the weight of their body, I would’ve freaked out. But it had never been an issue with lauren. She knew what I needed and how much I could take.

The sudden flash of her grin stopped my heart.

Confronted with that breathtaking face framed by that lustrous dark hair, I felt my knees weaken just a little. She was so polished and urbane except for the decadent length of those silky strands.

she nuzzled her nose against mine. “You can’t smile at me like that, then walk away. Tell me what you were thinking about when I was on the phone.”

My lips twisted wryly. “How gorgeous you are. It’s sickening how often I think about that. I need to get over it already.”

she cupped the back of my thigh and urged me tighter against her, teasing me with an expert roll of her hips against mine. She was outrageously gifted in bed. And she knew it. “Damn if I’ll let you.”

“Oh?” Heat slid sinuously through my veins, my body too greedy for the feel of her. “You can’t tell me you want another starry-eyed woman hanging on you, Miss. Hates-Exaggerated-Expectations.”

“What I want,” she purred, cupping my jaw and rubbing my bottom lip with the pad of her thumb, “is you being too busy thinking about me to think about anyone else.”

I pulled in a slow and shaky breath. I was completely seduced by the smoldering look in her eyes, the provocative tone of her voice, the heat of her body, and the mouthwatering scent of her skin. She was my drug, and I had no desire to kick the habit.

“Lauren,” I breathed, entranced.

With a soft groan, she sealed her chiseled mouth over mine, stealing away thoughts of what time it was with a lush, deep kiss . . . a kiss that almost succeeded in distracting me from seeing the insecurity she’d just revealed.

I pushed my fingers into her hair to hold her still and kissed her back, my tongue sliding along her, stroking. We’d been a couple for such a short period of time. Less than a month. Worse, neither of us knew how to have a relationship like the one we were attempting to build—a relationship in which we refused to pretend we weren’t both seriously broken.

her arms banded around me and tightened possessively. “I wanted to spend the weekend with you down in the Florida Keys—naked.”

“Umm, sounds nice.” More than nice. As big of a kick as I got out of Lauren in a three-piece suit, I much preferred her stripped to the skin. I avoided pointing out that I wouldn’t be available this weekend . . .

“Now I’ve got to spend the weekend taking care of business,” she muttered, her lips moving against mine.

“Business you put off to be with me?” she’d been leaving work early to spend time with me, and I knew that had to be costing her. My mother was in her third marriage, and all of her spouses were successful, wealthy moguls of one kind or another. I knew the price for ambition was very late hours.

“I pay other people a generous salary so I can be with you.”

Nice dodge, but noting the flash of irritation in her gaze, I distracted her. “Thank you. Let’s get some coffee before we run out of time.”

Lauren stroked her tongue along my bottom lip, then released me. “I’d like to get off the ground by eight tomorrow night. Pack cool and light. Arizona’s got dry heat.”

“What?” I blinked at her retreating back as it disappeared into her office. “Arizona is where your business is?”

“Unfortunately.”

Uh . . . whoa. Instead of risking my shot at coffee, I postponed arguing and continued on to the kitchen. I passed through Lauren's spacious apartment with its stunning prewar architecture and slender arched windows, my heels alternately clicking over gleaming hardwood and muffled by Aubusson rugs. Decorated in dark woods and neutral fabrics, the luxurious space was brightened by jeweled accents. As much as her place screamed money, it managed to remain warm and welcoming, a comfortable place to relax and feel pampered.

When I reached the kitchen, I wasted no time in shoving a travel mug under the one-cup coffeemaker. Lauren joined me with her jacket draped over one arm and her cell phone in her hand. I put another portable mug under the spout for her before I went to the fridge for some half-and-half.

“It might be fortunate after all.” I faced her and reminded her of my roommate issue. “I need to knock heads with Cary this weekend.”

Lauren dropped her phone in the inner pocket of her jacket, then hung the garment off the back of one of the bar stools at the island. “You’re coming with me, camila.”

Exhaling in a rush, I added half-and-half to my coffee. “To do what? Lie around naked, waiting for you to finish work and fuck me?”

her gaze held mine as she collected her mug and sipped her steaming coffee with too-calm deliberation. “Are we going to argue?”

“Are you going to be difficult? We talked about this. You know I can’t leave Cary after what happened last night.” The multibody tangle I’d found in my living room gave new meaning to the word clusterfuck.

I put the carton back in the fridge and absorbed the sensation of being drawn to her inexorably by the force of her will. It’d been that way from the beginning. When she chose to, Lauren could make me feel her demands. And it was very, very difficult to ignore the part of me that begged to give her whatever she wanted. “You’re going to take care of business and I’m going to take care of my best friend, then we’ll go back to taking care of each other.”

“I won’t be back until Sunday night, camila.”

Oh . . . I felt a sharp twinge in my belly at hearing we’d be apart that long. Most couples didn’t spend every free moment together, but we weren’t like most people. We both had hang-ups, insecurities, and an addiction to each other that required regular contact to keep us functioning properly. I hated being apart from her. I rarely went more than a couple of hours without thinking of her.

“You can’t stand the thought, either,” she said quietly, studying me in that way she had that saw everything. “By Sunday we’ll both be worthless.”

I blew on the surface of my coffee, then took a quick sip. I was unsettled at the thought of going the entire weekend without her. Worse, I hated the thought of her spending that amount of time away from me. She had a world of choices and possibilities out there, women who weren’t so screwed up and difficult to be with.

Still, I managed to say, “We both know that’s not exactly healthy, lauren.”

“Says who? No one else knows what it’s like to be us.”

Okay, I’d give her that.

“We need to get to work,” I said, knowing this impasse was going to drive both of us crazy all day. We’d sort it out later, but for now we were stuck with it.

Resting her hip against the counter, she crossed her ankles and stubbornly settled in. “What we need is for you to come with me.”

“lauren.” My foot began to tap against the travertine tile. “I can’t just give up my life for you. If I turn into arm candy, you’ll get bored real quick. Hell, I’d get sick of myself. It shouldn’t kill us to spend a couple days straightening out other parts of our lives, even if we hate doing it.”

her gaze captured mine. “You’re too much trouble to be arm candy.”

“Takes a troublemaker to know one.”

Lauren straightened, shrugging off her brooding sensuality and instantly capturing me with her severe intensity. So mercurial—like me. “You’ve gotten a lot of press lately, camila. It’s no secret that you’re in New York. I can’t leave you here while I’m gone. Bring Cary with us if you have to. You can butt heads with him while you’re waiting for me to finish work and fuck you.”

“Ha.” Even as I acknowledged her attempt to lighten the strain with humor, I realized what her real objection to being apart from me was—Nathan. My former stepbrother. The living nightmare from my past that Lauren seemed to fear might reappear in my present. It frightened me to concede that she wasn’t totally wrong. The shield of anonymity that had protected me for years had been shattered by our highly public relationship.

God . . . we totally didn’t have the time to get into that mess, but I knew it wasn’t a point Lauren would concede on. She was a woman who claimed her possessions utterly, fought off her competitors with ruthless precision, and would never allow any harm to come to me. I was her safe place, which made me rare and invaluable to her.

Lauren glanced at her watch. “Time to go, angel.”

She fetched her jacket, then gestured for me to precede her through her luxurious living room, where I grabbed my purse and the bag holding my walking shoes and other necessities. A few moments later, we’d finished the descent to the ground floor in her private elcamilator and slid into the back of her black Bentley SUV.

“Hi, Angus,” I greeted her driver, who touched the brim of his old-fashioned chauffeur’s hat.

“Good morning, Miss.Cabello,” he replied, smiling. He was an older gentleman, with a liberal sprinkling of white in his red hair. I liked him for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he’d been driving Lauren around since grade school and genuinely cared for her.

A quick glance at the Rolex my mother and stepfather had given me told me I’d make it to work on time . . . if we didn’t get boxed in by traffic. Even as I thought this, Angus slid deftly into the sea of taxis and cars on the street. After the tense quiet of Lauren's apartment, the noise of Manhattan woke me as effectively as a jolt of caffeine. The blaring of horns and the thud of tires over a manhole cover invigorated me. Rapid-moving streams of pedestrians flanked both sides of the clogged street, while buildings stretched ambitiously toward the sky, keeping us in shadow even as the sun climbed.

God, I seriously loved New York. I took the time every day to absorb it, to try to draw it into me.

I settled into the leather seat back and reached for Lauren's hand, giving it a squeeze. “Would you feel better if Cary and I left town for the weekend? Maybe a quick trip to Vegas?”

Lauren's gaze narrowed. “Am I a threat to Cary? Is that why you won’t consider Arizona?”

“What? No. I don’t think so.” Shifting in the seat, I faced her. “Sometimes it takes an all-nighter before I can get him to open up.”

“You don’t think so?” She repeated my answer, ignoring everything but the first words out of my mouth.

“He might feel like he can’t reach out to me when he needs to talk because I’m always with you,” I clarified, steadying my mug with two hands as we drove over a pothole. “Listen, you’re going to have to get over any jealousy about Cary. When I say he’s like a brother to me, Lauren, I’m not kidding. You don’t have to like him but you have to understand that he’s a permanent part of my life.”

“Do you tell him the same thing about me?”

“I don’t have to. He knows. I’m trying to reach a compromise here—”

“I never compromise.”

My brows rose. “In business, I’m sure you don’t. But this is a relationship, lauren. It requires give and—”

Lauren's growl cut me off. “My plane, my hotel, and if you leave the premises you take a security team with you.”

Her sudden, reluctant capitulation surprised me silent for a long minute. Long enough for her brow to arch over those piercing green eyes in a look that said take it or leave it.

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” I prodded. “I’ll have Cary with me.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust him with your safety after last night.” As she drank her coffee, her posture made it very clear that the conversation was done in her mind. she’d given me her acceptable options.

I might’ve gotten bitchy about that kind of high-handedness if I didn’t understand that taking care of me was her motivation. My past had vicious skeletons, and dating Lauren had put me in a media spotlight that could bring Nathan Barker right to my door.

Plus, controlling everything around her was just part of who Lauren was. It came with the package and I had to make accommodations for that.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Which hotel is yours?”

“I have a few. You can take your pick.” she turned her head to look out the window. “Scott will email you the list. When you’ve decided, let him know and he’ll make the arrangements. We’ll fly out together and return together.”

Leaning my shoulder into the seat, I took a drink of my coffee and noted the way her hand was fisted on her thigh. In the tinted window’s reflection, Lauren's face was impassive, but I could feel her moodiness.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“Don’t. I’m not happy about this, camila.” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Your roommate fucks up and I have to spend the weekend without you.”

Hating that she was unhappy, I took her coffee from her and set our travel mugs in the backseat cup holders. Then I climbed into her lap, straddling her. I draped my arms around her shoulders. “I appreciate you bending on this, lauren. It means a lot to me.”

she caught me in her fierce green gaze. “I knew you were going to drive me insane the moment I saw you.”

I smiled, recalling how we’d met. “Sprawled on my ass on the lobby floor of the Crossfire Building?”

“Before. Outside.”

Frowning, I asked, “Outside where?”

“On the sidewalk.” Lauren gripped my hips, squeezing in that possessive, commanding way of her that made me ache for her. “I was leaving for a meeting. A minute later and I would’ve missed you. I’d just gotten into the car when you came around the corner.”

I remembered the Bentley idling at the curb that day. I’d been too awed by the building to take note of the sleek vehicle when I arrived, but I had noticed it when I left.

“You hit me the instant I saw you,” she said gruffly. “I couldn’t look away. I wanted you immediately. Excessively. Almost violently.”

How could I not have known that there’d been more to our first meeting than I’d realized? I thought we’d stumbled across each other by accident. But she’d been leaving for the day . . . which meant she had deliberately backtracked inside. For me.

“You stopped right next to the Bentley,” she went on, “and your head tilted back. You were looking up at the building and I pictured you on your knees, looking up at me that same way.”

The low growl in Lauren's voice had me squirming in her lap. “What way?” I whispered, mesmerized by the fire in her eyes.

“With excitement. A little awe . . . a little intimidation.” Cupping my rear, she urged me tighter against her. “There was no way to stop myself from following you inside. And there you were, right where I’d wanted you, damn near kneeling in front of me. In that minute, I had a half dozen fantasies about what I was going to do to you when I got you naked.”

I swallowed, remembering my similar reaction to her. “Looking at you for the first time made me think about sex. Screaming, sheet-clawing sex.”

“I saw that.” her hands slid up either side of my spine. “And I knew you saw me, too. Saw what I am . . . what I have inside me. You saw right through me.”

And that was what had knocked me on my ass—literally. I’d looked into her eyes and realized how tightly reined she was, what a shadowed soul she had. I had seen power and hunger and control and demand. Somewhere inside me, I’d known she would take me over. It was a relief to know she’d felt the same upheaval over me.

Lauren's hands hugged my shoulder blades and pulled me closer, until our foreheads touched. “No one’s ever seen before, camila. You’re the only one.”

My throat tightened painfully. In so many ways, Lauren was a hard woman, yet she could be so sweet to me. Almost childishly so, which I loved because it was pure and uncontrolled. If no one else bothered to look beyond her striking face and impressive bank account, they didn’t deserve to know her. “I had no idea. You were so . . . cool. I didn’t seem to affect you at all.”

“Cool?” she scoffed. “I was on fire for you. I’ve been fucked up ever since.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You made me need you,” she rasped. “Now I can’t stand the thought of two days without you.”

Holding her jaw in my hands, I kissed her tenderly, my lips coaxing and apologetic. “I love you, too,” I whispered against her beautiful mouth. “I can’t stand being away from you, either.”

her returning kiss was greedy, devouring, and yet the way she held me close to her was gentle and reverent. As if I were precious. When she pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

“I’m not even your type,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood before we went into work. Lauren's preference for blondes was well known and well documented.

I felt the Bentley pull over and to a halt. Angus got out of the car to give us privacy, leaving the engine and air-conditioning running. I looked out the window and saw the Crossfire beside us.

“About the type thing—” Lauren's head fell back to rest against the seat. She took a deep breath. “Corinne was surprised by you. You weren’t what she’d expected.”

My jaw tightened at the mention of Lauren's former fiancée. Even knowing that their relationship had been about friendship and loneliness for her, not love, didn’t stop the claws of envy from digging into me. Jealousy was one of my virulent flaws. “Because I’m brunette?”

“Because . . . you don’t look like her.”

My breath caught. I hadn’t considered that Corinne had set the standard for her. Even Magdalene Perez—one of Lauren's friends who wished she were more—had said she’d kept her light hair long to emulate Corinne. But I hadn’t grasped the complexity of that observation. My God . . . if it was true, Corinne had tremendous power over Lauren, way more than I could bear. My heart rate quickened and my stomach churned. I hated her irrationally. Hated that she’d had even a piece of her. Hated every woman who’d known her touch . . . her lust . . . her amazing body.

I started sliding off her.

“camila.” She stayed me by tightening her grip on my thighs. “I don’t know if she’s right.”

I looked down at where she held me, and the sight of my promise ring on the finger of her right hand—my brand of ownership—calmed me. So did the look of confusion on her face when I met her gaze. “You don’t?”

“If that’s what it was, it wasn’t conscious. I wasn’t looking for her in other women. I didn’t know I was looking for anything until I saw you.”

My hands slid down her lapels as relief filled me. Maybe she hadn’t been consciously looking for her, but even if she had, I couldn’t be more different from Corinne in appearance and temperament. I was unique to her; a woman apart from her others in every way. I wished that could be enough to kill my jealousy.

“Maybe it wasn’t a preference so much as a pattern.” I smoothed her frown line with a fingertip. “You should ask Dr. Petersen when we see her tonight. I wish I had more answers after all my years of therapy, but I don’t. There’s a lot that’s inexplicable between us, isn’t there? I still have no idea what you see in me that’s hooked you.”

“It’s what you see in me, angel,” she said quietly, her features softening. “That you can know what I have in me and still want me as much as I want you. I go to sleep every night afraid I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. Or that I scared you away . . . that I dreamed you—”

“No. lauren.” Jesus. She broke my heart every day. Shattered me.

“I know I don’t tell you how I feel about you in the same way you tell me, but you have me. You know that.”

“Yes, I know you love me, lauren.” Insanely. Outrageously. Obsessively. Just like my feelings for her.

“I’m caught up with you, camila.” With her head tilted back, Lauren pulled me down for the sweetest of kisses, her firm lips moving gently beneath mine. “I’d kill for you,” she whispered, “give up everything I own for you . . . but I won’t give you up. Two days is my limit. Don’t ask for more than that; I can’t give it to you.”

I didn’t take her words lightly. her wealth insulated her, gave her the power and control that had been stolen from her at some point in her life. she’d suffered brutality and violation, just as I had. That she would consider it worthwhile to lose her peace of mind just to keep me meant more than the words I love you.

“I just need the two days, ace, and I’ll make them worth your while.”

The starkness of her gaze bled away, replaced by sexual heat. “Oh? Planning on pacifying me with sex, angel?”

“Yes,” I admitted shamelessly. “Lots of it. After all, the tactic seems to work well for you.”

her mouth curved, but her gaze had a sharpness that quickened my breath. The dark look she gave me reminded me—as if I could forget—that Lauren wasn’t a man who could be managed or tamed.

“Ah, Camila,” she purred, sprawled against the seat with the predatory insouciance of a sleek panther who’d neatly trapped a mouse in her den.

A delicious shiver moved through me. When it came to Lauren, I was more than willing to be devoured.

[cynettic]

Red String of Fate

A/N - Not really genshin, its more of a quick vent drabble. Angsty and nsfw for triggering topics and gory stuff :’) I felt kinda proud of this one which is why I’m posting it, any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!!

_-_-_-_-_

I’m a murderer.

Red string idly tied around my pinky, delicately swaying with every whisper from the wind. Caressed and woven into this world by fate. A gentle binding, thread spilling down to my foot and loosely littering the wooden panels of my floor with loops and twirls. Adorning the dust and encasing me whole in its meaning.

Its promise.

I’ve always hated being bound, held and grasped by an irrevocable hold. Ones I’ve put myself in, ones others have clutched me in. 

Pinching the red string that hung around my finger, I tugged at one of the loose ends of the knots. 

Ones that the red string of fate has tied me to. Several, tangling along the jagged ridges of my knuckles and slipping past the gaps between my fingers. A soft velvet against dry skin, the calloused pad of my thumb gentle when nimbly rolling it along the back of my palm. Silken texture brimming in abundance and pulsing in rhythm akin to one of heartbeat. Slow, steady, eternal.

Full of life.

The darkness in the cramped space of the apartment cages me in like an animal, body growing numb and sending a tingling sensation up my spine. Subduing aching muscles into a deep heavy sleep, complexion falling into well needed slumber. Till it was just the consistent thrum of the thread along my hand that held me awake, fate wrapping its hold on me once again.

Snip.

The motion is always slow, prolonged with the weight of the scissors in my hands. A spectator to the red thread as it slowly dissolves into ash, a ticking time bomb to the end of a life. Another. Seeping at their lifeline until the string finally dissolves at their fingertips, draining the last of their existence and sparing mine.

Greedy for comfort, I selfishly choose myself.

I can’t feel my elbows as I lean forward, ice prickling at my toes and cold slivers digging into my fingertips. Hazy, guilt eats me up like the snowstorm that enraptures my body in snow. Freezing me in place and biting at my mind, frosty reach clawing at my sanity.

But its my body thats numb, I wish my head was.

To be pliable with the nothingness that threatens to devour me, stained and greasy hands fervently scratching the fibers of my tunic. Dirty, I was oh so dirty. Contaminated with a bubbling hatred that quelled inside, pounding with deprecating fists that begged to get out. Pleading, because hands and knees dug for an eternity on the ground wouldnt be suffice to the lives I’d taken. But thread against skin arose an anxiety I could not thwart. Until I was no longer sure how long I’d spent sitting on this desk, staring into the pale grey walls of my apartment. Absent. Knives and scissors littering the corners of the wood, small chunks scraped with only the splinters in my nails to blame. Soiled hands incapable of holding life, a desperate cry to the heavens to spare me the responsibility, to let me go.

Because no matter how feather light the thread felt, the weight of a life pulled me under. Down into the depths of anxiety, because no matter how much I choked in the sea, I could not breathe. No matter how much my arms flailed, I could not rise. No matter how much I screamed, I couldn’t be heard. Not by others, not even myself.

String grows laden with water, a weight pulling me down to the bottom where I cannot rise.

I’m sinking.

The strand pulls me into a gentle hold of uncertainty, coaxing me into the decision to choose myself again and again. Until I’m hesitant to determine whether snipping the vibrant red cord is a punishment or a relief. To finally make it to the shore of the beach, form lifeless against grains of sand. Condemned in self pity, looking for the blood on my hands. 

My hands are clean.

I want to cry because they shouldnt be.

An endless cycle when the waves wash over my ragged form, snaking through my legs and under my arms. Sand letting the sea take me. The murky water is salty against my tongue, and I can only feel the dim sensation of something around my finger before I’m once again plummeting down.

But I always come back up.

Unable to rectify my crimes, I keep adding onto the list, nails slowly biting into the wood of my desk as I mark another one. Another death.

Snip.

I’m so cold.

But regret is like a spider, a horrid looking thing that scales up my leg, embedding sharp legs into the icy numbness of my shins. It leaves me petrified, the idea of swatting away leaving me with immense disgust. So does leaving it there. I don’t want to touch it, not when its on my thigh, on my stomach, up my shoulder blades. Not when it slowly makes its way across my arm, flexing its angular legs until it reaches my hand. Spiders terrify, they make people do things they dont mean to do. So does regret, reaching my frostbitten hands and sending a rush of warm blood. It's a spiking pain that hits, biting the soft skin of my palm and leaving ugly red flush in its wake.

Regret was my drive. My push when I decided to sever the digits that let fate take control.

It was easier to grasp the knife on the side when I was running on raw hatred and self loathing. When my hands were throbbing and I could picture the red string that held me captive, feel the thread palpitate against my finger.  Knowing with certainty that someone was on the other end of that string.

Bound to them.

The first few fingers were easy, blade sharp against unnourished and neglected skin. Soft ligaments and weakened bones posed no threat to my determination, body willing to my wishes. One by one, until the hilt was in my mouth and I was shaking my head back and forth with a strength I hadnt had for days. Wooden splinters buried themselves in the cracks of my teeth, gagging when the tail of the handle caught on the inside of my cheek and dug further into my mouth. I didnt stop, not until I was cutting the wood of the desk.

Until all ties to this wretched fate were cleaved.

 Hands all but circular blobs of discolouration, blue and purple tinting the tips of bumpy flesh and splintered bones. Blood coated pads that soaked into the rotten planks of wood, spilling over the desk and onto the floor. 

Finally. Finally my hands were stained in blood.

Not nearly as much as their ought, but it served its reminder perfectly. A pang of relief slipping through my body just like the crimson liquid that oozed down to the floor. Matting the hollow lines between floor panels with trickles of blood and soaking into my socks.

I was free.

Eyes fluttering closed, the sharp icy pain was gone, shock taking over my body and leaving me motionless. Solace was an odd little thing, consolation after actions of regret. But it was warm, and I could dimly register the ease that spread through my body like a drug. Bitter tasting but leaving me weightless, mind overdosing on the dopamine that pumped through my veins. Vasoconstriction quickening my pulse and leaving me breathless in the best way.

I was free.

Delusional satisfaction left my head buzzing and I didnt know if I was smiling or my face seemed to rise. Eyes rolling to the back of my head before returning to my sockets, head tilting forwards and nearly touching the puddle of blood on the desk. But I was happy, I was free.

Until I wasnt.

Till a bright red string settled once again, blurred vision transfixed on the way it slackened right above my collarbone, below my chin. 

Around my neck.

It was soft, warm as I struggled to realize it was someone elses heartbeat pressing against my jugular. Throbbing at an inconsistent pace and sending my thoughts into a whirlwind of activity. Till all I could think about was taking the scissors in my hand, grip firm and unrelenting to the viscous game destiny played.

Snip.

The realization came too late, palm on the base of the tool when it occurred to me I couldnt grab it. Simply watch as blood slipped through the gaps where my fingers shouldve been, pain seizing my wrist and presenting itself to me for the first time. It was electric, jolts of torment taking me by surprise and leaving me stunned. Shocked, but not enough to tip me off my high. Wretched grin widening across my face when I stared down at the red string, parched lips letting out a measly croak as I spoke. “You outplayed me.” Because at that moment it all felt strangely hilarious, pain building up in the nonexistent slim skin of my fingers. It was as if I could still feel them, and a feverish laugh spilled from the bosom of my throat as I sagged, shoulders shaking. 

The realization was bittersweet and brief before I leaned my forehead on the puddle of blood, baring with the pain of my actions. The consequences to my regrets. 

I cannot escape fate.

[angel-fire]

you get me so high

summary: bucky has had enough of your attitude towards him.

warnings: nsfw in general, sorta enemies to lovers, dirty talk, light choking, bucky being a tease. don’t read if you're under 18.

A/N: OKAY... im sorry if this isn't as good as y'all wanted it to be fksldskd idk i wrote the majority of this in a horny daze. pls be nice i am sensitive it’s my first time posting a pic and the first time i’ve written smut. also the title of from the song by the neighbourhood. 

---

“You’re such a fucking dick sometimes, Barnes,” you snap, arms crossing over your chest in indignation as you stare him down. “I told you I would do it. Multiple times, actually.”

“What the fuck is your problem? You were taking too long to get the door open, so I did it myself. Not my fault you couldn’t do it on your own.” Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes at your little temper tantrum. You’d just come back from a mission, which would have been simple in theory, if not for Bucky fucking Barnes, who’d slammed through the steel door with the force of his own body, rendering you practically useless in the meantime. Humiliating you.

You’d barged into his room after settling in back at the compound, intending on giving him shit for it because he always fucking does this. Undermines you, makes you doubt your place on the team, fucks with your feelings when he knows damn well how your body reacts to him when he stands too close to you. Bucky Barnes knows the effect he has on you, and it frustrates you to no end.

“Couldn’t do it on my own? That’s rich, coming from the guy who couldn’t wait two goddamn seconds before-“

Bucky takes two strides towards you, backing you up until the backs of your knees hit the end of his bed. Heat licks up your spine as you meet his darkening gaze, tense frustration set in his jaw.

“Before what? Huh? Before I saved the hostages, before I saved you and everyone else in that building? You could be a little more grateful, you know.” He says lowly, face drawing dangerously close to yours. You seethe, wanting to prove him wrong, to fight back, even if you know deep down that he’s right.

And yet, you hate the fact that he always has the upper hand. Always an advantage over you.

You jab a finger into his chest, hoping he doesn’t see the way your body ignites with him so close. “You fucking asshole, is that how little you think of me? You know damn well why I’m mad!” Your eyes burn with unshed tears of frustration, with both him and yourself.

“Are you done?” He grabs your hand and wrenches you closer, eyes narrowing in annoyance as his breath fans across your face. You try to hide the way your eyelids flutter in response. “Because I’m not. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass and stop being so damn sensitive about shit you can’t change.”

Your jaw clenches, free hand balling into a tight fist at your side. Bucky’s eyes flick down to watch the movement, his lips quirking up in amusement. “Angry, are we? You’re so small, what are you gonna do? Hurt me?”

“Fuck you, James.”

Bucky’s eyes darken, and he’s on you before you can say anything else, pushing you flat on your back onto the bed behind you. Your breath leaves you in a huff at the sudden movement and you barely have time to even attempt to sit up before he straddles you, deftly pinning your wrists above your head as he stares down at you challengingly.

“You’re such a fucking brat, getting all angry at me to hide the fact that you want me as much as I want you,” he says, calmly despite the way he’s handling you. He kisses you, roughly, his tongue tangling with yours the second you sigh into his mouth.

He pulls back abruptly, pupils blown and lips kiss-bitten. He smirks. “See? Just admit it, you were wet for me way before that goddamn mission even happened.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, refusing to let him think he’s won despite the fact that you feel arousal curling in your veins with each passing second, only heightened by the low timbre of his voice.

“Fuck me, huh?” He murmurs into your ear, pulling back to take in the sight of you. “Yeah, fuck me alright,” he growls, grasping the fabric of your dress and tearing it clean down the middle. The sound of the cotton ripping makes you jump, each inch of skin being exposed to the cold air making you shiver with anticipation as his darkened eyes take in your bare skin before landing on your panties, fabric soaked through with desire.

“Look at you, just fuckin’ dripping for me. Wanna fucking ruin you,” he practically moans, one hand swiftly pulling his own jeans off, his cock finally springing free. You feel the weight of it directly on your pubic bone, an airy moan forcing its way out of your lungs, muffled by his mouth as he swoops down to capture your lips with his.

“C’mon, open up those pretty legs for me,” he murmurs against your mouth, coaxing his tongue through your teeth, the warm flesh of his hand sliding along the skin of your inner thigh. Your legs begin to part of their own volition, exposing the most intimate part of you to his hungry eyes as he tilts his head down to look at you, causing you to let loose a shaky breath as you watch him take you in.

“Mm, yeah, that’s it. Wider.” He commands, and you comply immediately, legs spreading into a near split. The slight pain from the stretch of your legs is nothing compared to the pressure of the head of Bucky’s cock sliding through your folds over your panties, drawing keening sighs from you and low growls from him.

“Bucky, please,” you whine, tilting your hips up in an effort to have him where you want him, but he only chuckles.

“Want me inside, don’t you? Now, why would I do that?” He taunts, metal hand wrapping around the delicate skin of your throat and applying slight pressure. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to have my cock buried deep in you until you can’t even fucking walk, but it looks like you need to be taught a lesson.”

“N-No, I’m-“ your voice cuts off with a sharp moan as he thrusts his cock against you hard, bumping your aching clit in the process as you start to beg. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good! Please just fuck me.”

Your pleading whimpers make Bucky’s hips falter against you, and he releases his left hand at your throat to reposition itself back at where your wrists are straining against the powerful hold of his right hand.

“I know you’ll be good, baby,” he coos, emphasizing his words further with the slow drag of his cock against your soaked through panties.   “And you will be. Later, when I have you in every way I’ve been wishing to since I first fucking saw you, and now, when you’re gonna get me off without doing a goddamn thing. Isn’t that right?”

He continues rolling his hips against yours, making your breath stutter and your chest heave.

His eyes zero in on the movement of your torso, unable to help himself as he leans down to swirl his tongue around your nipple, moaning in delight as he tastes you. You’re so aroused you can’t even speak, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of his cock pistoning between your thighs.

“Shit, sweetheart, you’ve got me so-“ he’s pounding against you now, head hitting your clit with every thrust and the length of him sliding through your folds as your underwear becomes completely useless as a barrier between you. “-so fucking close. Gonna make me cum, aren’t you?”

Your breath hitches as you watch him, mesmerized by the way his eyes fall shut as his brows pull together and his thrusts grow sloppier, less calculated and more frenzied, the way his own breath stutters with every slam of his hips in the cradle of yours three more times before-

“Fuck!” He shouts, absolutely drilling against you now as he growls through his release, right hand traveling down to shove your panties aside just before his seed drips out of him, onto your clit. Your hips jerk up at the direct contact, the tip of his weeping cock resting on your clit for a few more seconds before he shifts it away from you, resting in the crevice between your pussy and your thigh.

Bucky sighs contentedly, peering down at you with a gleam in his eyes. You’re too wired to speak, nerves spiking and heart racing from not having orgasmed yet and watching him take his pleasure from you.

“God, you’re fucking perfect. Always have been,” he chuckles, leaning down once more to kiss you deeply, wicked tongue curling around yours and breaking away only to travel down the length of your throat. “You did so well, baby.” He sucks a bruise into the delicate skin, growling before sliding his body down your own, lips mapping out every inch of skin he can and drawing sweet sighs from you before he stops at your navel.

“Please…” you whisper, unable to take his unrelenting teasing anymore. Bucky looks up at you then, and your breath catches at the sight of his face so close to where you desperately want him, the lustful expression on his face likely reflecting the one you’re sure is on yours.

“Shh, baby, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he murmurs. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, his hands grasp the sides of your ruined panties and slide them down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder. His large hands make contact with your thighs, curving around to the back of your knees before roughly yanking them up and over his shoulders. Lightning courses through your veins at the action, heat continuing to pool between your legs where Bucky now resides.

Ducking his head down, you barely catch the words he hums between your thighs before your head drops back in white-hot pleasure.

“Your turn.”