#my wrists i only notice if i need to push my arms against a surface and sometimes they buckle

[wereverine]

my joint pain is very left side dominant most of the time,, not to say my right side never hurts but it definitely feels like i notice it more often on the left,, and sometimes my joints do not want to be weight-bearing

[seoulzie]

the final argument

WHEREIN: sparks fly (and mouths collide) as two rival debate captains finally give in to the undeniable tension simmering beneath the surface of their intellectual battles.

彡 pairing: rival!gyu x f!reader 彡 genre: smut 彡 warnings: making out, very suggestive, fingering, degrading, power dynamics, profanity & foul language

the auditorium buzzed with anticipation as the two debate teams squared off. on one side was beomgyu, the confident and sharp-witted captain. on the other was you, the equally formidable leader of your team. the rivalry between you was intense, each debate a fierce battle of wits. but tonight, beomgyu found it harder than ever to focus on the arguments. his mind was consumed by thoughts of you.

as you delivered your opening statement, beomgyu's eyes were drawn to the way you moved, the way your expression changed with each point. your voice was clear and authoritative, each word a challenge that made his heart race and his thoughts scatter.

he was supposed to be thinking about your argument, about finding holes in your logic. but all he could focus on was the way your lips glistened with the gloss you had applied, how they moved so enticingly when you spoke. he found himself wondering what it would be like to feel those lips wrapped around his—focus, damn it, he scolded himself, tearing his gaze away from you for a moment.

when it was his turn to speak, he stood up, trying to channel his usual confidence. as he delivered his rebuttal, he couldn't help but notice the way you watched him, the way your eyes followed his every move. the tension between you was almost unbearable, a magnetic pull that made it hard to concentrate on anything but you.

as the debate continued, the tension between you only grew. each counterargument and each rebuttal crackled with a thick tension that hung heavy in the air. the audience was captivated, but for beomgyu, it was like a private battle, one that was about more than just winning the debate.

finally, the debate concluded, the applause from the audience a distant echo in beomgyu's ears. as the teams began to disperse, he found himself making a beeline for you, his heart pounding in his chest. he needed to talk to you.

backstage, the clatter of folding chairs and hushed goodbyes provided a muted counterpoint to the roar of the crowd still filtering in. he pushed through a curtain, the sudden darkness momentarily disorienting. there you were, bathed in the soft glow of a single bulb, fiddling with your notes. relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a surge of urgency.

"you were incredible up there," he said, his voice low and intense as he approached you. "but i still think you missed something important."

you rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "of course you do. and what, pray tell, did i miss?"

"the fact that your entire argument was weak," he replied, stepping closer, his gaze locked on yours. "how can you possibly believe that your points had any substance?"

you crossed your arms, glaring at him. "really? you think you did any better? your points were practically laughable."

beomgyu's eyes narrowed. "laughable? at least i didn't rely on emotional appeals to make up for a lack of evidence."

"oh, so now you're accusing me of being emotional?" you shot back, stepping closer. the space between you was charged with tension, both of you breathing heavily from the exchange.

"yes, i am," beomgyu retorted, his voice dropping to a murmur. "and every time i see you up on that stage making those stupid-ass rebuttals, all i can think about is how much i want to shut you up with my mouth."

"then do it," you countered, a challenge ringing clear in your voice.

in a heartbeat, you were on each other. beomgyu grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a secluded corner backstage. the moment you were alone, the air between you crackled with electricity. he didn't waste a second, pressing you against the wall and capturing your lips with his in a desperate kiss.

the kiss was fierce, a meeting of frustration and unspoken promises, a battle line drawn with hungry lips. his lips moved against yours with a vigour that left you breathless, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. 

"you really think you can talk to me like that?" you gasped between kisses, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"shut up," he growled, biting your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. "you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

you moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth on yours.  

beomgyu's tongue slid against yours, goosebumps erupting along your arms like a constellation charting a path of craving.his hands roamed down your back, gripping your waist as he pressed himself closer to you. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath hot against your lips as he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth with a hunger that made you weak in the knees.

"god, you're infuriating," you muttered, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"right back at you," he replied, his voice husky. "but i can't stop thinking about how good you look up there, even when you're spouting bullshit."

you smirked against his lips, your hands moving to tug at his hair. "at least i have something worth saying. unlike your half-baked arguments."

"half-baked?" beomgyu laughed darkly, his hand sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer. "i could dismantle your points in my sleep."

"too bad you're not as good in debates as you are at talking shit," you shot back, your body arching against his.

"keep talking," he challenged, his voice low and dangerous. "see where it gets you."

he kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue delving into your mouth with a desperation that left your senses reeling. his hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips, pulling you impossibly closer. you responded with equal intensity, your hands slipping under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

"you think you can handle this?" he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

"i can handle anything you throw at me," you shot back, your breath hitching as his hand slid up your thigh.

"good," he growled, his teeth grazing your neck as he kissed his way down to your collarbone. "because i'm not stopping until you admit i won."

"in your dreams," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he nipped at your skin.

"we'll see about that," he muttered, his lips returning to yours in a searing kiss that threatened to drown your senses in a sea of pleasure. you clung to him, your bodies pressed together in a heated embrace,the unspoken yearning that had simmered between you finally ignited, exploding in a cascade of kisses.

beomgyu's lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. you arched into him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. he groaned against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

"you're such a fucking tease," he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your collarbone, leaving blooming bruises, each one a searing brand claiming you as his

"you love it," you shot back, your voice breathless. "admit it."

"maybe i do," he rasped, his hands moving lower to slip under your skirt. his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "but now it's my turn."

with one swift motion, he pushed your panties aside and slipped a finger inside you, making you gasp. he smirked against your neck, adding another finger and curling them inside you, his thumb brushing against your clit. the sensation was overwhelming, a shiver ripped through you, a soft moan escaping your lips as your fingers dug into his back.

"fuck, beomgyu," you panted, your hips bucking against his hand.

he chuckled, "what's the matter? can't handle a little teasing?"

you glared at him, your breath hitching as he increased the pressure on your clit. "you're such an asshole."

"maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "but you like it, don't you? you like how i make you feel."

you couldn't deny it. the way he touched you, the way he made you feel, was intoxicating. your body arched into his, your moans filling the small, secluded space. his fingers moved faster, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"come on," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "let go. i want to feel you come undone."

with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your body convulsing with intensity. you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of ecstasy washed over you. beomgyu held you through it, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a trembling, breathless mess in his arms.

when you finally came down from your high, he pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean. 

"this doesn't mean you won," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes.

beomgyu chuckled, his breath warm against your lips. "maybe not, but i think we both came out on top."

you laughed, the sound mingling with his, as you shared one last kiss that sealed the deal—realizing that perhaps your rivalry had just transformed into something far more interesting.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman , @beombeomlovesme ⤷ want to get notified? click here!

© 2024 seoulzie

[jedipoodoo]

Ruthlessness (Sergeant Hunter x fem!Reader)

"After everything you've done...how will you sleep at night?"

"Next to my wife."

Notes: Feral Hunter, above-average bloodshed and violence. Reader is implied to be a Jedi but it's never explicitly stated, inspired by that line from Epic: The Vengeance Saga.

Hunter tore through the base. He could smell your fear and terror, and he knew you were nearby. He didn't even need Tech's directions.

This is what he was made for.

He hadn't slept since he'd heard you'd been captured, and he wouldn't rest until you were safe in his arms.

He quickly dispatched the two TK Troopers at the door with blaster and knife. Before the first body could hit the floor, he snatched the key card from their belt. He could hear your heartbeat just beyond the door, sluggish and slow, along with one other heartbeat and the deadly hum of an interrogation droid.

The moment the door opened, Hunter found his target, launching his vibroblade at the droid.

The blaster shot took him by surprise. Hunter managed to dodge so that it grazed him just below the ribs, but it burned. Every nerve in his body screamed out in pain,but he had to keep moving forward Hunter dropped to his knee, holding his wound, and looked up at the blaster pointed at his face.

"Doctor Hemlock warned me you'd come after her," the Imperial officer said, his voice low and lethal. He sounded just like Hemlock and Rampart, a controlled calm with a storm seething beneath the surface.

Hunter had no use for control. Not when he saw you hanging limp in the officer's arm like the damsel in distress in some cheap holo novel.

"Let her go, and I might let you live." Hunter growled, pushing himself to his feet.

The blaster followed his every move, and the officer chuckled as if he hadn't just been threatened.

"That's not an option here. She's a traitor, as are you."

Hunter took a step forward, only to stumble against a table littered with surgical tools. The officer kept the blaster trained on him, smart man.

But not smart enough.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" The officer chuckled, "You clones just don't know when to quit."

"Hun'red percent success rate," Hunter bragged through gritted teeth, forcing his legs to support him.

"And vain too," the officer scoffed.

Hunter turned his body just enough that the officer couldn't see him grab the scalpel, still trying to make his way to you. Your heartbeat was growing slower with each passing second. He had to get you out of here.

"And what do you call your Emperor, then? An empire that'll last a thousand years? The Republic's been around longer than that."

"The Republic is gone!" The officer snapped, "That is the difference between the Galactic Empire and your precious Republic!" He jabbed the barrel of his blaster against Hunter's chestplate, sealing his doom.

Hunter moved too fast for anyone but Crosshair to have really noticed. The scalpel met its target in the vein of the officer's wrist, and he dropped the blaster with a scream. Hunter grabbed the wound and twisted it, forcing the officer to drop your body. Hunter only took his eyes off the officer to make sure you were safe, but he recovered quickly. He reached for the blaster with his non-dominant hand, and Hunter kicked it out of reach. The officer went for Hunter's wound, digging his hand into the wound. The air was ripped from Hunter's lungs as he tried to focus his vision. He couldn't let you die here, not as a trophy for some fanatic Imperial sycophant.

He still gripped the scalpel in his hand, and as the officer grinned sadistically Hunter drew it across his face. Blood splattered everywhere, and the officer reeled back with his face in his hands. Hunter didn't let him recover. He stomped his booted foot on the officer's shin, shattering his bones. The officer writhed on the floor as he tried to crawl away, dark blood from his face and wrist staining his gray uniform and slicking the tile floor.

Hunter held his side and adjusted his hold on the scalpel for a firmer grip, standing above the insignificant worm of a sentient that had dared to lay a hand on his Cyare.

"You clones-" the officer spat, coughing on his own blood.

"Scraping by, betraying the glory of the Empire just to live hand to mouth..."

"How how do you live with yourself?

"How do you sleep at night?"

Hunter grabbed onto the officers hair, yanking his head back so that the last thing he ever saw was the clone who would kill him.

"Next to my wife."

He drove the scalpel into the monster's chest, over, and over, and over again, until he heard the silence of its heart.

Hunter heaved a deep breath, tasting the coppery tang of blood at the back of his throat. It took a moment, but Hunter knew it wasn't his own.

A shuddering breath echoed through the room, and Hunter turned to you, crouching in between you and the officer so that you wouldn't have to see him as you woke up.

"Cyare? Cyare, can you hear me?" He called your name, cradling your head in his lap.

You mumbled something unintelligible, eyelids twitching.

"Hun'er?"

"Easy, easy Cyare, you're safe. It's over," He said. He gently pressed his fingers to the spot below your jaw where he could feel your heartbeat. It was delicate, like the flutter of a bird's wing, but it was there all the same. He needed to get you to the ship.

Hunter lifted you into his arms and though you raised your arms to hang onto his neck, they weighed as much as a starcruiser.

"I've got you," He whispered, "You're gonna be alright."

Your knee hit the blaster wound in his side, and he winced.

"You're hurt," You gasped, still drugged but now worried about him.

He shook his head and straightened his shoulders, "Don't worry about me. You're safe now. That's all that matters."

@photogirl894 @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender @emperor-palpaminty @clonethirstingisreal (I just thought y'all would enjoy ✌️)

[i-hold-deaths-hand-in-mine]

today i am coining the phrase "freaky domesticity" with this scene from my agathario fic

(mature; it gets a little spicy.)

“Tonight’s the night,” Rio sang as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed sugar from the cupboard.

“Yeah,” muttered Agatha as she absent-mindedly stirred eggs in a pan, wearing only her robe, and then turned the heat down on the stove. She became fully aware of the moment, however, when she turned to reach for the fridge and nearly smacked her face into the opened cupboard door. 

Quickly, she peered inside – the sugar was already put back. 

She looked at Rio, contentedly sipping her coffee at the table, already having put the sugar in her cup. 

The sugar…was put…back. It was no longer needed.

“Rio?” Agatha called, voice strained from the forced, sickening sweetness. Rio looked up obliviously. “Do you still need the sugar for something?”

Rio furrowed her eyebrows. She looked down at her coffee, then up at Agatha, then over at the cabinet door – and then it clicked. “Oh, sorry,” she said as she began to stand. 

Agatha held her hand up, stopping her in her tracks half-way up from her seat. She didn’t sit back down. She felt afraid to move. “It’s fine,” Agatha sighed before slamming the door shut. 

“Agatha –” Rio started, standing up and moving towards her. 

But Agatha only held a single finger up this time. “No.”

Rio stopped, watched her with an agonizing look on her face that broke Agatha in a million different ways because she knew if she had just never said those dumb words – I’m not mad – they probably would have been well on their way to processing whatever they were both feeling at the moment. 

But she was Agatha. She ran away from her problems. 

She sighed. The kitchen was too enclosed of a space, and Rio was between her and the door – she easily could have caught Agatha before she made it out. Alas, running was not an option this time, though she absolutely would have if the opportunity arose. 

“I’m sorry,” Agatha said. “I guess…I’m a little mad.” Suddenly remembering the food, she hurried back to the stove to make sure they had not been burned. And then she noticed, that in her agitation, she accidentally turned the burner completely off, and they were still only half-cooked. 

She turned the burner back on with the groan and then faced Rio, who was now standing fully, though with great uncertainty. Agatha moved her head, gesturing her forward, and Rio slid her arms into the robe to wrap them around her, but first gave the eggs behind Agatha a quick stir.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Agatha asked. 

“I didn’t…I didn’t want to make it real,” Rio admitted.

Agatha’s breath hitched. Her chest became tight, and she suddenly felt so incredibly silly, and relieved, and distraught, and – there were so many, too many, things to focus on any more, and so she only grabbed onto Rio and held her tightly. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I really mean it this time.” 

True. 

After all, she reasoned, how could she have remained so angry at Rio after hearing the very same rationale she recently spoke to herself?

“Are you sure?” Rio asked, leaned back to look at her, to cup her face in her hands and read all that was written in her eyes. Because Agatha, despite some few moments, was always so, so easy for Rio to read. And because of that, Agatha did not answer her – did not need to. Rio saw. 

Instead, Agatha kissed her, capturing her lips in the only message that Rio ever wanted or needed. Rio pressed into her immediately, hips pushing Agatha back against the counter, and Agatha reached blindly behind her. 

Her hand grabbed onto the edge of the knife she had used earlier, and she hissed at the sharp sting, pulling her hand back to view the damage. A thin red line appeared, blood seeping to the surface. She went to grab a hand-towel, but Rio caught her wrist and held her hand up to her mouth. She licked the length of her wound, moaning.

Agatha gasped, watching with dark eyes, then pulled Rio roughly by the hair to close her mouth over hers, tasting herself on her. She pushed Rio back, not even registering the scent of burnt eggs, until she hit the table. The dishware rattled.

“Ag –” Rio groaned when she felt lips leave her own to suck harshly at her neck. Agatha lifted her hips so she was sitting on the table, legs wrapped around her. 

Agatha ground her hips into Rio, kissing her again as Rio moaned into her mouth. She reached to brace one hand against the table, the other bunched tight in Agatha’s hair, and accidentally knocked a few utensils noisily to the floor. 

“The dishes,” she gasped. She then whined when Agatha pulled back to look at her. 

“The dishes?” Agatha asked. She was half-amused and half-annoyed that anything other than her name was on Rio’s mind in that moment. 

To make her point, Agatha leaned over and swiped the plates and mugs to the floor, grinning wickedly at all the noise they made as they shattered. She was a cat in another life, it was confirmed. 

And then Agatha fixed that cat-like grin on her, and Rio knew she was fucked in more ways than the obvious. 

more info | read here | masterlist

[lokisgoodgirl]

Holy Orders: Mercy [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (18) Inner demons come out to play, as Loki ends his mission in Rome with a theatrical flourish. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Sacrilege. Desecration. Language. Hell awaits. Mild angst. All will be well.

Loki’s groans sounded against your wet lips as he pulled away. The green and gold shimmering vestments flowed lavishly around his huge frame, yanking you roughly from the wall. You stumbled as he began to stride down the side of the church, past the rows of stoic wooden pews scratched and worn from a thousand prayers. One of your sandals caught, making you wince as it popped from your foot and skated beyond reach. But now was not the time. His grip was firm around your wrist, pulling you easily up the low steps towards the pinnacle of sanctity. He suddenly spun you, switching positions and pinning you against the front of the smooth, sacrosanct marble altar.

The nave of the church stretched behind him, a narrow passageway of serenity broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Loki’s fingers roamed over your waist, over the curve of your breasts; the grumbles of desire building in his throat as his darkening eyes flashed. The digits slid up your cheekbones, his immense palms cupping the sides of your face before he was upon you. You found your own fingers winding in his hair, whimpers of need mewling from your lips between messy clashes of tongue. His kiss was savage, a maniacal arousal which made the air around your bodies hot. Like a woman possessed, your hands found their way to his neckline, a brutal rip resounding up to the ornate vaulted ceiling as you tore the beautiful green fabric from his chest. It split to his naval, fingers popping buttons on the descent from the innocent shirt he wore beneath.

“Is this what you want, Agent?” he moaned mockingly, as one of his hands slid over your groin. “To corrupt me. Destroy me. Disgrace me in a church of God?” A gentle stoop of his broad shoulders let him catch beneath the hem of your thin summer dress, the scent of his warmed chest tantalisingly close. “Loki I...can I-” you spluttered, fighting against the desire to let him ravage you the way he always did. His hand grasped at the soft flesh of your thigh, devilish pants catching in his throat as his hard-on pitched the swathes of holy garb hanging against his hips. “Loki stop-” you gasped, pushing his hand away from your jaw. You swept away the fingers sinking into your thigh; Loki’s digits falling to your shoulder as he studied your face – lust melting to confusion. Your firm voice continued to echo around the domed ceiling, vibrations seeming to ring in your ears long after it had evaporated. His hand slid down your bare arm to the wrist, fingertips trailing over every centimetre of skin as though for the last time, until it fell by his side.

“Yes?” he whispered saltily, features hardening. He looked resigned, drawing up to his full height as sunlight illuminated a burst of glow behind his raven hair. “I was wondering if...since we’re here, in Rome, and everything – could we...could you..-” “-Oh, out with it, woman.” he scoffed, folding his arms. A tinge of pink had appeared in his cheeks. You took a deep breath. “Could you maybe not fuck me like...-”

Trailing off awkwardly, you noticed that the pink flush had spread to the tips of his ears. “Yes?!” he hissed venomously, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “Like you hate me.” you blurted, glancing to the side as your fingers brushed the smooth surface of the altar he had owned just ten minutes before. “Just once.”

The god tilted his head, long strands of dark curls catching on the embroidery of his sacred robes. “Hate you?” he snarled. “Whatever gave you that impression?” You raised an eyebrow, biting your tongue as you felt your cheeks heat with frustration. “Ummm, maybe the hundred times you’ve told me that?”

Loki snorted. “Only after you did. And besides, you enjoy it.” He stepped forward, hair falling across his cheekbones tingling against your forehead. “Don’t you, Agent?” he whispered. You shrugged, covering a shiver. “I just think it would be fun to see what it’s like when you’re not so…” “-Hostile?” he finished, the ghost of a penitent smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair and trying not to react to the tip of his nose grazing down your temple. “Salvation, wasn’t it?” he murmured, the scrape of his shoes on the marble floor like sandpaper as he shuffled even closer, hips pressed to yours. There was a tinge of sadness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It was unsettling; as he inhaled against your hair, his words no more than a wisp of air. “What you prayed for. Salvation.” He let out a shuddering sigh, catching himself before he stoically continued. “Deliverance from your torment.” You dared to look up at him, eyes wide. Warmth bounced in the shallows of his cheekbones, hues of gold and burnt sunrise dancing in reflections over perfect skin. The placid features set on his face were marred only by the faint knit of his brows. Contemplation, perhaps; as his grip tightened around the edge of the marble by your side. Trapping you. “Loki, I-…” you started, swallowing quietly as he pressed a finger to your lips. “Let me grant you the absolution you desire, Agent.” he whispered sombrely. “Let me at least do that.”

Before you could speak, his lips fastened gently to the curve of your neck. They caressed downward, every achingly soft kiss making you melt into his touch. Your head fell back as he burrowed against the skin, a low growl of satisfaction rumbling from his bare chest to yours as his hands gently gripped your hips. Light from the stained glass windows illuminated the colours behind your eyelids, speckles of gold and burgundy making love in fragrant waves.

“Like this?” he murmured against your ear. You nodded, a soft mewl of confirmation all you could manage as he lifted you easily atop the altar. His tongue massaged your own in haunting rhythm, strength rising and falling like the tide. The pulse of his stiff cock against your inner thigh was unbearable, his tentative unlacing of the binds holding your neckline together sending swirls of unfamiliar comfort through your veins. You carded your fingers through his hair, pushing back the waxy tendrils settled around his jaw. God, his cheekbones really are perfect; you thought, as you ran a fingertip along one sharp edge. He’s perfect. Loki’s eyes met your own as he studied your face, the solemn gaze threatening to swallow you whole as he ran it slowly from your parted lips back to your unwavering stare.

“Pilgrim…” Loki murmured thoughtfully, toying at the tatters of his holy robes left in your wake. “It seems your journey is at an end.” The thick fabric split like tissue paper beneath his gentle touch, running in a straight rip below his hips. His fingers made quick work of the simple leather belt buckle, metal tinkling lightly as he reached inside and pulled forth his majestic cock. Your breath hitched. It never gets old, you thought; feeling saliva well in your mouth as he stroked back and forth. Loki’s brows slanted, a wordless question tinged with desperation. You thought you saw his free hand tremble, before he clenched it to a fist.

He stepped between your spread legs, pressing the meat of his flawless cock against your wet slit. "Speak Latin to me." you said shyly, pulling at the clerical collar wrapped snug at his neck above the splayed sides of his shirt. Loki laughed softly, the tilt of his head to the ceiling making his jawline flash. He lowered it towards you, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. "In nomine patris...et fili...spiritus sancti..." he enunciated formally, narrowing his eyes. "Amen." you whispered seductively in response as you pressed your centre against his pulsing cock. Loki smirked. “Goddess…” he hummed, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. You gasped with mock-disapproval. “Sacrilege.” you said warily, making Loki’s lip curl in a knowing smile. “Heresy, then…” he growled, a glint in his eye as he dragged the thick column of hot flesh between your soaking folds. There was a heavy silence as Loki’s bare chest flanked by richest forest green fabric rose and fell with every breath. He tilted his chin downward, the flash of his tongue forming words before he thought better of it. Dark lashes fanned against the delicate skin beneath his eyes, a rogue curl of ebony hair falling over that regal brow. “Desecrate me, Padre…” you coyed, looping a foot around to his ass and letting the other join it. Crossing your ankles, you pulled him the final inch flush to your body, “-nicely, of course.” Loki’s placid features twisted in amusement, his dimples flashing in the morning sun through the windows high above. “I thought you’d never ask, mia cara.” he purred. The thick tip of his manhood nudged against your entrance, making you whimper as your slid your hands over his shoulders. The clerical collar flexed against the thick vein straining in his neck. Rigid. Immovable. “Loki...yes...uhh-fuck-L-Loki-” you gasped loudly as he breached your slick entrance.

“-Don’t call me that…” he growled, deep lines in his forehead twitching with the effort of restraint as he inched slowly deeper, the edge of marble dragging against his turgid length. “-the m-mission.” You smiled, eyes still shut as your lips stretched against your teeth in pleasure. “If someone s-somehow walks in on us right now...I think your c-cover is blown...uhhh g-god - regardless” you groaned as he bottomed out. Twin moans bounced eerily around the walls of the empty church as he stilled, ricocheting back to you clinging to the god’s body with your legs wrapped around his hips. Loki nuzzled your ear, his hot breath making you buck against him. “Not necessarily, Agent. You would be surprised.” he smirked against your cheek. He began to move, waves of muscle slapping gently against your open thighs. The thick veins lining his cock tugged against your fluttering walls, every pulse like a current through the last vestige of your resistance. Each roll of his hips was devastating, lilting moans of praise peppering your name in the air. You had never heard him say it like that. Come to think of it, you couldn’t recall him saying it at all.

The flats of your palms spread against the altar, sliding backwards as a golden candlestick clattered to the floor. It bounced several times, falling loudly down the steps as Loki lowered you backwards against his hand. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured reverently against the dying, rolling echo of metal on marble, stooping to lower a kiss on the centre of your clavicle. “So beautiful…” he repeated quietly against a muffle of heated skin. You ran a hand through his curls, cupping the base of his skull as he thrust in melodic motion, making your calves tighten around his waist. You bucked rhythmically against him, the motion of your bodies as smooth and poetic as the chant of his prayers. Somewhere, a bell began to toll. Loki’s grip tightened on the back of your dress, his fingers grasping at the textured cheesecloth scratching against your spine. You drew forwards, strands of hair falling over your forehead as you took in the sight of Loki lost in the pleasure he found in you. You could feel the muscles of his ass clenching beneath the drape of holy fabric hanging sluttishly against his hips, each squeeze of your thighs as he fucked you making you mewl his name. Fucks me? No. you thought desperately, arching your back against his hand. This is what it feels like when he’s making love.

Loki’s hand slid up your back, cupping the nape of your neck as he brought you forward to his open mouth. The kiss was needy, tasting every crevice of your lips and tongue against his own like he was departing for war. “Mark me…” you gasped against his cheek when he broke for air, feeling the beat of his chuckle against your chest. “That would be against the terms of your request, I fear…” he groaned, lingering the head of his furiously hard cock just inside your pussy. “Gods, I can feel how much you want it.” he growled, circling the tip licentiously at the catch of your cunt. Arousal slipped against the pull of his foreskin as he shamelessly devoured your emotions with his mind, wetness coating every inch of straining length. It pulsed, tiny flicks of his hips keeping you desperately on edge. “Although perhaps…” he added mysteriously, a flash of mischief in his eyes. Loki’s wide tip never left you as he leant gracefully to the side, fingers curling around the second ornate candlestick gracing the hallowed altar. He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the look of growing confusion on your face.

He brought it upwards, level to your searching eyes before tilting his head. Automatically, your back arched, pushing your chest forward as he mirrored his movement with a tilt of his hand. The hot, pooled wax spilled against your chest, dripping on the mounds of flesh heaving gently with each shuddering breath. Loki groaned softly, watching the white substance melt leisurely in a trail beyond his sight down the neckline of your dishevelled dress. “Perfect.” he murmured, setting the ornate candlestick back in place. He brought a finger to your skin, gathering the slowly hardening beeswax with intricate care. You looked down, seeing a thick circle had been formed on the curve of your left breast. A smile tugged at Loki’s lips, before his eyelids fluttered shut. You had clenched around the tip of his cock, reminding him.

“Patience, mia cara.” he growled playfully, bringing his hand between you with a flourish. In a low glow of green, something appeared between his fingers. It was thick, and short. It looked heavy, and...old. “W-what is that?” you stammered, breath catching as he thrust another few inches inside your tightened pussy. Loki’s smile widened. “My seal.” he said, flipping the object to face you. The base was a tarnished gold, scuffed with use and history that you couldn’t begin to fathom. On the metal, a double headed snake was carved, intricate endless tips wound around each other.

“Wars have begun, and been ended with this mark, Agent.” he murmured, exhaling hot breath gently on the circle of hardening wax on your breast. He licked his lips, eyes flickering to yours nervously. “And now...” You gasped as the chill of metal pressed against your flesh, the cool edges over spilling their target. Loki rolled it from side to side in practised decorum, capturing your lips with his own. A slow tug let you know the seal had been withdrawn; before you heard the sound of the heavy token fall to the floor with a clang by his feet. Loki’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs, pulling your spread legs flush to his hips as he bottomed out once more. A roar simmered in his throat as his grasp tightened; shallow, messy thrusts tilting into your centre as you squirmed on the side of the altar. You could feel the urgency in every jab of his tongue, your walls fluttering with the first sparks of long-denied orgasm. “Loki, I’m c-coming…” you moaned in his ear, feeling him shudder as your arms tightened around his shoulders. They slid down his biceps, grasping for purchase against the tattered fabric of his disguise as he rocked you over the edge of sanity. Climax shattered you from the inside out, cries of pleasure ringing in your ears as you came around him. The feral ache in your belly which had weighted you for weeks blossomed to a thousand strands of bliss, spreading and growing like wine in water. Loki’s pants grew shallow, careful thrusts becoming erratic delving deeper into the flood of your fresh cum. His chest jolted, a hand flying to the edge of the marble altar by your thigh in crushing precision. You heard a harsh crack, the whites of his knuckles glaring as he spent himself inside your wet, pulsating heat with a primal, endless moan of your name. And then there was silence, only wordless heavy breathing filling the warmed air between your bodies. Mussed hair fell around the god’s cheekbones, his eyes lowered as he wet his lips. He sighed. “I plead mercy, Agent…” he murmured slowly, running the tip of his nose against your temple. You felt a shiver roll down your spine. “I will only ask you one last time. Swallow your pride, and tell me that you love me.” A well of adrenaline flushed your blood, a deep longing to say the words flooding your mind before you came to your senses. “Tell me the truth, Loki” you said, brushing a strand of onyx from his brow. Your fingers grazed beneath his chin, raising his face to yours. “I need to know I can trust you-” He inhaled sharply, withdrawing from your touch with a jolt of his head. “I...I cannot.” he said, his voice clouded beneath knitted brows. “Why?!” you said incredulously, feeling his softening cock slide from your entrance. Sentimentality, forgotten. “I cannot!” he shouted. You bit your lip as the malevolent echo ricochet endlessly. The look in his eyes was pained. The quiver of his lip, the slant of his brows. It was raw, you realised with a drop in your stomach. It was real. “Loki, I don’t think you understand. I just need you to be honest with me without being so…-”

“-So what, Agent? Myself?” You let out a sigh of exasperation. “I was going to say dramatic.” you muttered, as Loki’s magic glimmered up his body. Strips of holy ripped green fabric stitched itself together, the embroidery as perfectly matched as it had been before you ever touched him. “I think I understand perfectly well.” he muttered, smoothing his sex-wild hair behind his ears before impaling you with a piercing glare.

“No matter how many times I try to open myself to you, it is only the shadows of my heart you linger in. It is only in the depths of my darkness you feel truly comfortable – just like all the rest. And when it comes to declaring where you stand, in the shadows you remain.” he growled, stepping towards you. He loomed, his lips hovering tantalisingly close, his scent mingled with heavy incense and spices swirling in the air of the sacrosanct space. Loki’s eyes searched yours, a silent plead wavering behind his hardened features. Your breaths felt heavy, every drag of air suffocating as you tried to speak and failed.

Loki shook his head. “I wanted you to find the light.” he rasped quietly, trailing his knuckles down the bodice of your dress before thinking better of it. They clenched in a fist. “But I see now how this must be. How it has always been for us.” In one swift movement, he ascended the steps, beginning to stride down the narrow aisle towards the entrance. The theatrical vestments billowed around his ankles, as imposing in church finery as he was in Asgardian battle armour. A grating ca-lunk of the metal bar sliding across its hold unaided made your blood run cold. Loki’s outstretched arms blew the ancient wooden doors wide on their hinges, banging menacingly against the stone. What have I done? you thought with a fierce chill; stunned panic rising as your body seemed to turn to lead in the wake of his heavy footsteps.

The wax of his seal suddenly crumbled to dust on your skin, blowing mockingly around your collarbone from the breeze of the open church doors. You felt it stick to your moist lips as Loki disappeared to the bustling piazza beyond the sanctuary's boundaries without a backwards glance. “Mercy.” you gasped under your breath, running your fingers over the sticky cast the wax seal had left over your cleavage. Over my heart. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you felt your gaze drawn inescapably up to the majestic baroque stained glass window, the brightness almost blinding. Your eyelids fluttered shut as the church doors slammed closed with shuddering finality. “Mercy.” you whispered again, deafening silence the only response.

A/N: And here we are - the final set is imminent! Cross your fingers my loves, here we go! Continued in Final Bids (Finale pt1) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @wheredafandomat @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @cheekyscamp @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @aliciamata

[thus-spoke-lo]

Worth the Wait || Sanji Vinsmoke x f!reader || NSFW [minors DNI]

CW: bratty afab!reader (no pronouns used for reader); soft dom/sub undertones; teasing; light spanking; begging; vaginal intercourse WC: 2.7k AO3 Link

A cook’s job was never done—certainly not aboard the Sunny, and definitely not after a dinner as lavish as the one that had been served this evening, where Sanji managed outdo himself yet again, to the surprise of absolutely no one. He let out an extended sigh as he examined the mess in the kitchen before rolling up his shirtsleeves, ready to dive into returning his kitchen to its normal splendor. He kept his head down, diligently scrubbing each plate to a sparkling sheen, struggling to pretend not to notice that you were still lingering in the dining room. He glanced up every now and again to watch you dragging your feet across the floor, arms crossed tightly over your chest, loudly huffing and puffing to attract his attention. Everything in him told him to set the pots and pans aside—they could surely wait a little while longer—and fall to his knees to give you all the attention you so clearly needed, to take you right there on the hardwood floors, worshipping every inch of you like you so rightfully deserved.

There was something awfully charming though, Sanji thought, at the sight of you restlessly trying to catch his eye, not wanting to say out loud all the filthy things you wanted him to do you, hoping that your displays of impatience would be enough to lure him away from his duties. He hated to admit that it was working, and he cleared his throat as he set a clean dish to the side, realizing he was gripping it so tightly it might break under his grasp. He felt his cock twitching in his slacks, and took a deep breath to try to calm himself—he couldn’t give into you all of the time, he told himself, lest he spoil you with his affection.

You had clearly had enough waiting around for the moment, however, and Sanji turned to see you sauntering into the kitchen, your skirted hips swinging with every step. Without a word, you hopped up on his sparkling, freshly-cleaned counter, swinging your bare legs and batting your lashes at him, your expression begging him to set down the dishrags for if only for a moment. He felt his eye twitch as you settled yourself on the just-scrubbed surface, but he quickly softened at the sight of you and how your pretty skirt laid so softly on your plush thighs.

“My love, I’m almost done,” he said as he made his way over to you. “Just a little longer, okay?”

“But I miss you, Sanji,” you pouted, tilting your head.

He set his hands on your knees and pushed them apart so he could slot himself between them. “Well I’m right here, sweet thing, no need to miss me.”

“No, I mean I miss you, miss you.”

He smirked and took ahold of your wrist, guiding your hand down to the bulge in the front of his trousers. “You miss me or you miss this?”

You beamed at him sweetly as you pressed your palm into him, feeling him pulse under your touch. “Can’t it be both?”

Sanji exhaled sharply, feeling all the air push out of his lungs as you gently massaged him. “I’m all yours in just a little while, my sweet, just let me finish cleaning up first.”

You looked at him with a soul-crushing sadness in your eyes, one that made his heart ache but his cock ache more, as you slowly dragged your hand away from his clothed cock. “But Sanji, I’ve been so lonely all day.”

“I know I’ve been neglecting you, my pet,” he cooed, lovingly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “but I’ll be done soon, I promise. Just wait a little longer.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you, your fingers gripping his tie to hold him in place. “Are you sure I can’t convince you?”

Sanji almost choked on his tongue when he felt the warm heat of your cunt pressing against his midsection. “M-my love, what are you doing?”

You leaned up and kissed along his jaw, nipping at his neck. “Just trying to change your mind, handsome.”

“Mmm, you really are impatient aren’t you, my little minx?” he groaned, the softness of your lips sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. You were becoming a pleasant distraction from the clutter in the kitchen, and it took every ounce of composure he possessed not to bend you over the counter and fuck you amongst the dirty dishes.

“Just a bit,” you whispered, your warm breath like heaven against his skin. “Can’t the dishes wait just a little longer, love? Don’t you want to make me feel good?”

“Oh my darling,” he groaned as he wrapped one lithe arm around your waist, his hand snaking its way up the back of your shirt. “You know that’s all I want in life is to fuck you into a state of exquisite ecstasy whenever you wish. But—”

“But? But what?” you interrupted.

“But,” he continued, his voice low and heavy with lust, “the more you whine, the longer I’ll just have to make you wait.”

You leaned back, gasping in mock surprise. “Sanji. Are you telling me you can resist me?”

He sighed, smiling softly as he raised an eyebrow at you. “I do spoil you, don’t I, my sweet? Giving you this cock whenever you want?”

“You certainly do,” you purred, running your finger up the length of his arm.

He paused and chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Well, perhaps it’s time I taught you some patience then.”

“What do you mean?”

He wrenched himself out of your wicked grasp, and leaned against the counter behind him, crossing his arms. “Get up. Go stand at the end of the table over there.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’ go hike up your skirt and bend over the table, and wait there for me like a good pet.”

You stared at him, mouth agape, eyebrows raised high. Sanji was as shocked as you at the words that came out of his mouth; he couldn’t remember a time where he’d so much as denied you a kiss, let alone kept you from pleasuring yourself on his cock, but something stirred in him as he ordered you out of the kitchen. If giving into your every whim and desire was fun, surely making you wait until you were desperate and needy and insatiable for him would make things even more exciting. His heart thrummed in his chest as he watched you traipse leisurely out of the kitchen, slowly pulling up your skirt inch by torturous inch as you moved, exposing more and more of your luscious ass as you walked. You arrived at the end of the dining table closest to the kitchen, and exaggeratedly leaned forward, placing your palms flat on the surface.

“Like this?” you inquired, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Watch your tone, darling,” Sanji growled, “or there’ll be consequences.”

You grinned mischievously. “Sounds like fun.”

“Maybe for me.” He smirked, walking back over to the sink. “I want to see those legs spread, too.”

Your shoes squeaked against the wood floor as you shuffled your legs apart. “Better?”

“That’s much better.” He picked up a plate and his dishrag, and tried to return his attention to cleaning, despite the raging erection that strained the fabric of his pants. “Now, you be good and wait there for me.”

He steeled himself as he resumed his duties, telling himself over and over again he was doing what was best for you, his voracious little vixen. You could both stand to learn the lesson of delayed gratification, and he reminded himself that the longer he made you stand there, the longer he made you pose for him in agonized silence with your pussy on display, ready and waiting, the more and more ravenous your hunger would be when he was finally ready to give you exactly what you desired.

“Sanji…”

“Hm? What’s that?” He slowed his dish-drying to a near-halt as he glanced up at you, his poor, pathetic darling. “Did you want something?”

“You know what I want,” you murmured, winding your hips as you spoke.

He quickly lowered his gaze back to the counter. “Then do as you’re told and you’ll have it.”

“But—can’t you hurry up?”

“The more you whine,” he said firmly, “the slower I’ll go.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, extending the word out into multiple syllables to show your frustration.

He chuckled to himself as he listened to you grouse and whimper some more before you finally quieted yourself, finally seeming to accept that no matter how much you stamped your feet and demanded his affection, you simply weren’t going to receive it until Sanji had decided it was time. He refused to look at you, knowing he would leap over the counter at the sight of you suffering and rush to provide you whatever it was you wanted and needed to relieve yourself of the ache you so clearly felt in your core. He was reaching the bottom of his well of patience, his need for you becoming ever more maddening, a roiling fire burning deep within him that only you could quench.

Sanji finally allowed himself a peek at you while he finished the last of the dishes, setting them aside to dry. You were near-silent, your breathing steady, as you held yourself in position and looked down at the table. He felt himself swell at the sight of you, so compliant and so docile for him; he reached down and palmed himself through his trousers at the spectacle of your submission, wondering just how far he could push you, just what you’d be willing to do for him in the pursuit of pleasure. Tonight, however, was not the night for exploring boundaries, as he was nearly feverish with his desire for you and wanted nothing more than to finally give you what you’d both been longing for.

“You did so well, love,” he cooed as he walked towards you. “So patient for me.”

You laughed quietly, your gaze still on the table. “Did I have much of a choice?”

He sidled up behind you, laying one warm hand on your ass cheek, your skin cool to the touch. “You are being such a brat tonight, my sweet. Something gotten into you?”

“No,” you murmured as you swayed your hips back and forth. “Just need you so much, Sanji. It’s not fair you made me wait.”

“Oh? It’s not fair, huh?” He bit his lip, gazing down at the perfection that was your lush backside. “I’ll show you what’s fair.”

Sanji steadied himself, running his hand over the tantalizing curve of your ass, before winding up and landing a sharp swat on your left cheek, feeling your skin ripple under his palm.

You kicked your leg up at the sting, almost grazing him. “Sanji, that hurt!”

“What? You gonna whine about it?” he challenged, sinking his fingers into the meat of your hips, so hard he could almost see the bruises blooming.

You whipped your head around to look at him, and his heart nearly thumped out of his ribcage at the sight of your lust-blown eyes: you were enjoying every moment of this. “What if I do?”

“Oh yeah?” He landed another sharp swat on your right cheek, then alternated one more on each, feeling himself throbbing with every smack, nearly drooling at how your body quaked under his firm hand. “Had enough?”

You pushed yourself back against him, started to grind desperately against his clothed erection. “Sanji, please, I can’t take this anymore, won’t you please fuck me?”

He leaned over you, his chest pressed against you, pinning you down to the table. “I want you to beg for it.”

“Please Sanji, won’t you fuck me?” You started to quake under him, your chest heaving as tears started to well in your eyes. “I was so good and I waited and I waited just like you told me, and now I want you to fuck me.”

“Again,” he rumbled into your ear, letting more of his mass settle on you, until you were completely flat against the table. “Like you mean it.”

“Please, Sanji, I need your cock in me so bad,” you keened through staccato breaths, body writhing rhythmically under his weight. “Just please, please take me, I can’t stand it anymore. I need you so fucking much, don’t make me wait anymore.”

He kissed the nape of your neck, ran his fingers softly over your hip and up your side. “Well since you asked so nicely, how could I say no?”

He stood up and hastily undressed, finally freeing his aching cock from the confines of his slacks. He palmed his length with one hand, watching the head swell, as he dragged two fingers up the length of your slit. A depraved moan escaped him as he felt the copious slick drenching his fingertips; he was almost taken aback but just how well you had responded to him, how absolutely soaked you were from his perverse punishment.

“My darling,” he whispered hoarsely, “if I’m not mistaken, I’d say you enjoyed being made to wait for me, hm?”

No words formed, only a fervent nod of your head and a soft whimper, as you slowly moved your hips from side to side, tempting him, practically calling him home to the heaven between your legs. He ran the pulsing head of his cock along your folds, coating himself in your wetness, before eagerly plunging into you, pushing himself inside as far as he could, groaning obscenely at the feeling of the sweet warmth surrounding him. Sanji was a man who loved to take his time with you, to make love to you and bathe you in pleasure, drown you in tenderness until you were a beautiful mess spread open on his mattress—but this was not the time for softness. He gripped your hips and pulled you against him, making sure you could feel every pulse and throb of his length, before sinking himself into you again and again with a wild intensity.

“Is this what you wanted, my sweet?” he growled, nearly delirious from the sensation of your walls fluttering around him with every impassioned thrust.

“So good,” you murmured repeatedly, barely audible over the lewd sounds of Sanji’s cock driving into your wet cunt over and over. You rocked yourself against him, your sweet whimpers slowly becoming loud, wanton moans, as he felt your body start to tense under his grasp, your muscles tightening and legs quaking. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Fuck yes, cum for me sweetheart,” he groaned, the thought of you taking your pleasure from him making him throb powerfully. He felt a strong clench around his length as you let out a euphoric sob, and you came in profound, pulsating spasms, your body twisting and bucking under him as you wailed. The hypnotic pulsing of your cunt around him was pulling him closer and closer to reaching his own pleasure. His hips snapped against you, his pace becoming more and more erratic and frenzied, unable to control how much he wanted—no needed—to cum in you after how long he’d waited, how long he’d stood there in the kitchen, his cock aching and an all-consuming fire burning away in his core, as he watched you become so magnificently needy for him. He dug his fingers into your soft flesh and panted, ecstasy in every breath, and let out a deep groan as sparks of pleasure rocketed through his body. With a great shudder, he poured himself into you, filing you entirely, pushing himself deeper into you until he felt it dripping out of your quivering cunt, coating both of you in a sticky mess of your mingled juices.

He collapsed on top of you, nuzzling against your neck as he tried to pull in lungfuls of air. “You alright, my love? Was I too rough with you?”

“Mm, no,” you uttered through labored breaths. “That was fun, I liked it.”

He grinned into the soft skin of your shoulder, feeling his softened cock twitch to life again at the possibilities. “Would you say it was worth the wait?”

“Always,” you sighed.

[rebelwrites]

Twenty Two: I Don’t Know If You Know But I Am A Famous F1 Driver

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

My whole body froze. Had I just imagined Charles’ voice, like my brain was trying to trick me, making me hear the one thing I desperately needed at that moment? Looking over to Nero, he just shrugged, staying silent as I placed my palms on the floor, pushing myself to my knees. Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands over my face trying to calm my heart rate down. Everything about my movements was extremely slow, like I was trying to protect myself from disappointment.

“Sunshine,”

Tears threatened to spill over my lash line as I rose to my feet, that's when I saw him, across the bar, only a few scant feet between us but with the way time slowed down, it was going to take me ages to reach him. Charles was standing in the middle of the room with a bunch of red roses in his hand. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He was meant to be on a plane more than likely over the ocean by now, not standing in the middle of my little bar. My body moved slowly and mechanically, pushing me to my feet, then deciding walking around the bar would take too long. I clambered across the surface, eyes still glued to him, like if I even blinked too long, he would disappear. He might have said something else, or maybe even Nero, but my heart was pounding in my ears too loud for me to hear it, everything in my body screaming out Charles.

Slowly I pulled myself up onto the counter top, trying to calm my nerves as I clambered over the solid wooden surface, Charles didn’t move as I took baby steps across the room scared if I moved any faster he would suddenly disappear.

I found myself opening my mouth to speak but no words came out, lifting my arms out, I harshly rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands, there was no way this was real.

“Nova, babygirl,” Charles breathed, his voice slightly closer than before. “Please stop, you are going to hurt yourself,” he said softly, placing his hand over my wrist. The feel of his gentle touch caused me to still, this was real, he was here and this wasn’t a trick from my mind. Without saying a word he wrapped his arms around my shoulders pulling me into his chest.

I quickly found myself nuzzling my face into the soft material of his hoodie taking in the smell of his aftershave. The pair of us stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for a few moments before I finally found the words. “You didn’t get on the plane?” My head was spinning with all the reasons why he would just walk away from his flight, summer break was over and he could go back to living his dream.

“I couldn’t,” he hummed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of my head. “I couldn’t leave you behind, Sunshine.” My heart stuttered at his declaration, I had never had a guy make such a bold gesture such as this before. “I made Pierre turn the car around about an hour and a half into the trip.”

“You didn’t text me back though” I whimpered, feeling the tears bubbling to the surface again, if he was in town all this time why didn’t he tell me or come to find me sooner.

“Well,” he breathed, chewing on his bottom lip, something I had noticed he did when he was feeling nervous about something, “I was actually working on something else,” he hummed, pausing, letting his gaze shift to the main doors of the bar. And as if on cue the sound of the bar doors slamming against the wall gained my full attention, “Daddy, get off I got this,” Elenor sassed as she pushed a suitcase that was bigger than her through the opening. It took me a moment to realize that it was my suitcase she was pushing, followed by Jax and Pops, chucking at the stubbornness of the five year old.

Turning my gaze back to Charles I cocked my brow at him, “what have you planned Mr?” I questioned, trying not to melt from the smirk he flashed, if it wasn’t for his strong arms wrapped around my waist I would have been on the floor due to my knees giving out.

“Well, I kinda have to go, I don’t know if you know but I am a famous F1 driver.” he hummed with a cocky smile on his face.

“Never heard of you,” I teased, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.

“As I was saying, I need to leave for Zandvoort but I couldn’t go without you, I want you by my side, I want you watching from the pits. So I may have persuaded Jax, JT and Ellie to help pack your suitcase.”

The moment the words left his lips I felt my entire body freeze.

Could I just drop everything and travel to Zandvoort with Charles?

Would Jax cope with looking after Pops without me?

How long would I be away?

Was it just going to be for one race or longer?

Who would run the bar whilst I was away?

“Squirt, stop it, I can smell your brain burning from over here. Everything is going to be fine, the world isn’t going to come crashing down if you go.” he scolded, crossing his arms across his chest and at this moment he looked just like Pops did when me and Jax tried sneaking back into the house after drinking in a field. “You have everything you need for a month away, and whatever you are missing you can buy. But you are going even if I have to throw you on the plane myself.”

I felt my eyes widen at his words, “A MONTH?!?” I gasped, trying to get my brain to process everything, “no, that’s way too long Char. My mind was racing, could I leave everything behind for a month? My heart was screaming at me, I would be spending a whole month with Charles watching him doing what he does best, and being by his side at the next four races.

“But what about Pops?” I whispered, as a pang of guilt shook my body. He was only getting worse with his dementia, how could I just jet off and leave him?

“My sweet angel,” Pops said, moving across the room until he was standing in front of me and Charles, “I want you to go, look how happy you have been since Charles came into town, I haven’t seen your smile this bright since you were a teen causing havoc on Charming,” he whispered, placing his hand over mine. “You deserve this, I will be fine with Jax and the club.”

“You promise?” I whimpered, blinking back the tears.

“Cross my heart,” he smiled, “my sweet Nova don’t be putting your life on hold for me, go have the time of your life, make memories and most importantly have fun.”

I was once again lost for words, looking over Pop’s shoulder I made eye contact with Jax who stayed silent but his eyes said everything I needed to hear, over the years we had become pros at talking without saying a single word. The expression on his face changed slightly, the smirk turned into that cocky smile that meant teasing would quickly follow. “If you don’t get your ass on that plane I will stab you, then we can have matching scars.” Rolling my eyes at my older brother, I let out a shaky breath, turning my attention back to Charles, resting my palm against his cheek once again.

“Let’s go to Zandvoort.”

The whole flight I tried to hide my nerves from Charles, I didn’t want to distract him from the weekend. The last thing I needed was for him to be worrying about me when he was behind the wheel of the car driving over 200 miles an hours.

“Welcome to The Netherlands, Sunshine,” Charles hummed, resting his hand on the small of my back as we exited the plane. “Andrea will meet us in arrivals but there will be fans waiting, try not to worry about them, just stay close to me or Andrea okay,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against the back of my head.

“Okay,” I mumbled, as I finished the text to Jax letting him know we had landed before slipping my phone back in my back pocket and pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over my hands.

I couldn’t lie, I was dreading meeting his fans in person, I had avoided social media ever since the yacht company leaked the pictures of me and Charles. My stomach was churning and my heart was racing as we quickly passed through security. I kept my word to Charles by keeping close to him, as much as I didn’t want to face the crowd I wasn’t going to be the type of girlfriend that stopped him from greeting his fans.

This was something I needed to get used to.

“You good?” Charles asked softly, linking his fingers with mine, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Are you sure you want me with you? It's the start of a new season, you don't want the press to be stirred up over me. I can just stay with Andrea." I mumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of my hoodie.

Charles came to a stop, causing me to follow his actions. He was now standing in front of me blocking my view of his fans. He slowly took my hands in his, slowly brushing his fingers across the skin, “I don’t care what they have to say. I meant it when I said I want you by my side. Every step of the way."

I found myself slightly speechless at his words, I found my flashing him a loving smile, squeezing his hands before speaking, “go greet your fans.” At the end of the day I saw more people in the bar on a friday night than the amount that was here waiting for us.

Soon enough Charles had made his way to the group of people that were congregating near the exit, I made sure to hang back just enough but it wasn’t enough because some of the girls started asking questions.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Can I get a picture with her?”

I found myself becoming quickly overwhelmed as everyone's attention had turned onto me, I should have been used to this especially being the only female within the club but this was different.

“Qu'en dis-tu, chérie ? Tu es d'accord avec ça ? What do you say, darling? You okay with this?” Charles asked, looking over his shoulder with a loving smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath I needed to be honest with him, “Peut-être un autre jour, je ne suis pas encore tout à fait prête pour cela. Maybe another day, I'm not quite ready for that yet.” Charles didn’t seem phased by my answer, like he was expecting it in a way.

He turned back to the group of people standing in front of us, signing more things, taking what felt like millions of photos. I found myself standing there awkwardly with the cases and Andrea not knowing what to do with myself whilst I waited. Pulling my phone out I quickly shot Jax a text letting him know what was happening, I knew he would probably be asleep but it made me feel slightly better getting my thoughts out to my older brother, even if he would take the piss outta me for being such a loser. I was deep in thought when I heard something that caused me to look up from my device.

“Your girlfriend is so pretty.”

Charles didn’t respond, which I was thankful for as we hadn’t spoken about announcing the relationship to the world just yet, but he glanced over his shoulder at me, throwing me a wink. I was so grateful that these people weren’t like the trolls online, they weren’t nasty or bitchy, they were accepting of the relationship. “Thank you for waiting, your support means the world to me but we need to get going now,” he said confidently, waving goodbye to everyone before coming over to me and Andrea.

It was now Friday, meaning everything was even more chaotic than what was broadcast on tv. It was the first race weekend after the summer break and everyone was pumped to be back. For most of the morning I found myself practically glued to Charles’ side, I didn’t really know anyone, well I knew of them but I was now in their world and for the first time ever I felt ten times smaller. I was completely out of my comfort zone, without my family as my life support. Feeling Charles’ gentle touch on my lower back, I tried to push all my worries down not wanting to ruin the weekend for him.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, guiding me into his small driver’s room within the Ferrari hospitality. “Don’t say nothing is wrong either, Sunshine, it’s written all over your face.”

Running my hands over my face I let out a shaky breath. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all” I finally admitted, I kept my gaze focused on his race boots. I was used to knowing everyone back home, people knowing my reputation and my relationship with the club. But here it’s like I am starting all over again, I’m not used to the press, everyone asking questions.

“Oh Sunshine,” he said softly, placing his fingers under my chin, slowly lifting my head up, “let me properly introduce you to the team and then maybe that will make you feel a bit better.”

“What if they don’t like me?” I whimpered, feeling extremely self conscious.

“Nova, babygirl, they are going to adore you, especially Fred.” he said with a wide smile. “Andrea loves you already, he won’t stop asking questions about you, about us.” he chuckled, resting his forehead against mine. “I promise you have nothing to worry about, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay.”

“Promessa?. Promise?”

“Sempre. Always.”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[nerdyloverparadise]

❉❉❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉❉

Synopsis: Gojo stumbles into Shoko's office with a huge gash looking to be patched up.

Authors note: This is my first time writing this kind of piece but i had an idea so i had to do it somehow. Apologies if its not too good! But yeahh, hopefully you enjoy it!

Word Count: 2.1k

Includes: Gojo, Shoko, Geto, Utahime

Contains: angst, smoking, wounds, death (severed), maybe spoiler if you haven't read the recent chapters.

❉❉❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉❉

The Lighter.

It wasn’t Shoko’s first time having to heal Gojo. Sometimes his Reverse Cursed Technique wasn’t enough and extra help was needed. But seeing him again was always a pleasant surprise, so she didn’t mind. Why would she? On this particular day, Gojo sauntered in with a gash that appeared semi-healed across the top of his left pectoral muscle. Its edges were rigid, as if the skin was on the verge of intertwining and regenerating, but lacked the cursed energy to complete the process.

He has a small smirk plastered on his face as he leans against the doorway, one leg bent to rest on the frame and the other kicked out as if he were trying to recline. His dove-like locks pushed to stick upwards due to his lifted blindfold resting around his temples like a headband. “Heyyy Sho.”

It was the same cheeky greeting every time, his tone shooting up when he extended it much longer than needed. However, there was a heaviness to his tone today, more depleted and listless than usual. Even the casual flick of his wrist into a salute-like wave with two fingers seemed languid. Shoko sat on a stool next to a stretcher, its wheels turned in different directions, losing their metal tint, scuffed and blackened from the amount of times it had been utilized. She hadn’t dropped the habit of smoking, a cigarette stayed coddled between her fingers, smoke evading from her mouth every few minutes or so. “Hey, Satoru. Didn’t expect to see you.”

He kicks himself off the door frame, his hands resting in his pockets, fiddling with something as he walks over to Shoko and takes a seat on the less than comfortable surface of the stretcher.

“I would have expected it to be the other guy. What are you doing here?” Shoko asks, removing the cigarette from her mouth as it starts to go out, not producing enough smoke for her to further inhale. She sighs softly and sets the cigarette down in a tray next to her.

“Well, I’m hurt. It’s just a measly scratch and normally I'd patch it up myself… Buttt,” The words fall off Gojo’s tongue like clockwork, his cockiness tightly threaded tightly into each one. He shifts his body, leaning slightly towards Shoko, hands resting on the stretcher's edge.“I decided I'd give you a chance to shine today, Shoko. Consider it a gift from yours truly.”

“Very funny.” Shoko retorts as she rolls her eyes ever so slightly, the corners of her lips turning up almost unnoticeably in amusement. Gojo grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, Shoko instinctively averts her eyes, her head turning slightly away. He groans softly as he stretches his arms upward to remove the shirt fully, his hand coming down on the stretcher with a soft thud, the shirt clenched in his grip. He takes a deep exhale, a smirk grazing his face as he looks back at her, noticing her face turned in the other direction. “You can look, ya know? The gash is on my chest.”

She turns back to face him, his eyes half-lidded and seemingly uncaring about his current state. There was no visible emotion on her face apart from a slight raise of her brow. “How’d that happen? It’s pretty bad, actually,” He replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders and gazing off to the floor. It was pretty unusual for him to be so badly injured. “You know I can only heal to an extent, Satoru. You might have a scar now.” Questions jostled through her mind. He wouldn’t let himself get injured this way, so how did it actually happen? Who did it? He has enough cursed energy to heal it himself, so why didn’t he? Why are you really here, Satoru?

She reached out with both hands while simultaneously standing from her stool, her lab coat catching the air and flying up along with her hair. One of her hands came to Gojo’s cheek but stopped just short of it, moving slower and slower. A small frown appeared on her face before she was finally able to close the distance, her hand resting on his cheek, fingertips and then the soft palm.

“Remember, I’m your friend, Satoru. You’re safe,” Shoko said somberly, her words warmer than usual.

“Yeah. I just… forget to turn it off sometimes.” His eyes dart to hers momentarily and then back to the ground, his face warming at the contact. She begins to bring her other hand up to his chest, pressing her palm firmly against the wounded area before starting her Reverse Cursed Technique. His gaze remains fixed downward, yet he peeks up through his lashes, finding solace in her presence alone. The heaviness he carried into the room wasn’t going away; it felt cold, as though he was hollow at the moment, hardwired to be his usual self on the outside. As the energy begins to surge through him, a sigh escapes his lips, laden with a sense of exhaustion that permeates his entire being. With a slight hesitation, he reaches out, his fingers wrapping around Shoko's wrist, gently guiding her hand away from his chest.

"Could you… just treat it normally?" he requests, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability beneath the casualty. Shoko hums slightly, looking over at her cigarette as if it’d miraculously light itself again. She didn’t question his request, nor did she say much of anything though she had many thought’s swirling in her mind. She grabs alcohol from a cabinet, along with gauze and medical tape, bringing it back to the tray she’d sat her cigarette in. She sets the materials down gently, but not before moving her cigarette out the way. Meanwhile, Gojo examines the materials himself, his mind drifting back to a time when he could fit into size 4 shoes, when he would bustle around and scrape his knees outdoors like the other kids. He felt a little more human then.

Shoko takes a piece of cotton and douses it in alcohol, the smell stinging their nostrils - sterile yet pungent. As she turns to face Gojo once more, he has a small lighter in his hand, tapping it on his leg to some imaginary beat in his head before looking up at her. “Had a feeling you’d need it, putting up with me,” he mutters with a small chuckle that segues into a slight dry cough. His hand darts halfway to his chest before retreating, avoiding Shoko's notice of his pain. He holds out the lighter, and she palms it back to him. “I will take care of you first. Thank you, though. Genuinely,” she says with a sigh, having sensed something was wrong almost before he reclined on the door when he came in.

The alcohol-drenched cotton approaches the wound and dabs it lightly, accompanied by a violent flinch from Gojo - a human response. “Ack- damn! That… mm.. still stings like hell.” His hand instinctively flies to grab Shoko’s, his teeth clenched at the burn shooting through his chest. Their hands squeeze together tightly as she lets out a small chuckle. “Thought you were the strongest, Satoru?”

His eyes darted up to hers for a moment, glaring through his lashes as his lips pulled into a thin, frustrated line. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

She squeezes his hand a little with a sigh, continuing to clean his wound. Her laughter subsided as quickly as it came. The rest of the time was tense, she could tell he appreciated her presence but the comment she made bothered him to an extent despite it being a joke. He tenses and relaxes, squeezing her hand and holding it tighter whenever the alcohol touches his wound. Finally, she breaks the seemingly endless silence. “Why did you want me to clean this the regular way?”

"Nobody gets to touch the Strongest, right? Gotta remind myself I'm still human somehow," his voice trails off a bit, sounding like it’s going to bottom out when he calls himself the strongest. His head is cocked downward, eyes locked on his lap and the black lighter lined with white and topped off with brown mechanical parts, spinning in his hand.

The process is traditional, slow and quiet. He doesn’t say anything after that and neither does Shoko. When it’s done and he’s all stitched up she steps back, hand sliding out of his easily from all the sweat that’s built up. “You’re done. Feel alright?”

He nods and stands up in front of Shoko, smiling at her faintly, his eyes struggling to maintain liveliness. “Yup. Take the lighter. Compensation for me wasting your time….” he trails off and then starts back up again, “It’s nice to see you, Shoko.” His tone is so foreboding. Almost melancholic, the room eerily cold as his eyes bore into hers kindly. She takes the lighter and he leans down to give her a hug. "Thanks, seriously, what would everyone do without you? You're like the glue holding this whole crazy team together… don’t change, Shoko.”

She smiles genuinely and wraps her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. It felt like everything fell into place. They pull away shortly after and he puts his shirt back on before heading towards the door, she flicks the lighter a few times, cigarette already back in her mouth swiftly. He chuckles, sticking up two fingers with his back turned to her to say goodbye. He opens the door, the blinds rustling against the glass of it. “And Shoko.”

“Yeah?” She says a bit muffled as she takes the cigarette out of her mouth.

“You and Suguru always knew how to make me feel…” Some thoughts in his head seem to derail his sentence before he finishes it.

“Hm?”

“That’s all.”

She shrugs her shoulders and gives a hum as an appreciation as he disappears out of the door, “No problem then.”

A few days later she’d find herself hauling half of Gojo’s body back to her examination room as Utahime followed with the other. He knew he’d end up this way, knew Shoko would break down because her limits were clear. She couldn’t fix this much damage. She couldn't look at his face, eyes big and blue, and worst of all, fading. She didn’t seem sad, her face was neutral as she entered her room with a heavy head and even heavier heart. She set the two halves of his body on the table and placed her hands on the bisect where they should have still been connected. She holds her hands steady, pushing cursed energy out over and over again to no avail as Utahime watches, it was a silent downward spiral, one that made time a figment of her imagination. “Come on now Satoru, please wake up.” She mutters, almost an hour later, voice hoarse from having said nothing as she concentrates long and hard on bringing him back. It wasn’t working. Nothing was working. Soon, Utahime grabs her hands, holding them gently as she looks down at Gojo’s severed body. The touch brought her back slightly, pushed the realization on her that she was starting to exhaust and her ability was fizzling out just like Gojo’s faint pulse.

“Utahime, can you.. Use your cursed technique on me? Please, let’s just try it?

Utahime nods. After hours of attempting and silence, seeing his skin rejuvenate without a trace of life, Utahime released her technique, ending the useless efforts. Shoko’s face was full of color, red and moist from exertion followed by the soft panting that slowly segwayed into pained wheezes.

She abruptly releases her technique too and calmly wisps around to grab a whole pack of cigarettes and heads outside to smoke a few. She pulls out the lighter Gojo had gifted her from her back pocket, scrutinizing the array of colors before lighting the cigarette. As she goes to place the lighter back in her pocket, her fingers graze the bottom and she feels something embroidered into it. With immediate curiosity, she flips the lighter over and inspects it briefly, her eyes widening to see S.S.S carved into the bottom. It was the same old rushed, lackluster handwriting that Gojo had. Each ‘S’ was a little jagged in their own way but it was so uniquely him, so recognizably him. A rush of flashbacks from her teenage years flooded her memory, of her on Geto’s back, Gojo yelling some kind of obscenity while they walked through cherry blossom filled roads. It was always all smiles, all canines and obnoxious, warm laughter. Warmth begins to spill down her face, her eyes blurry and muddled with tears that seemingly wouldn’t stop. “Satoru..” She murmurs, her voice light and broken, choked up by her own tears.

“Satoru!” The crack in her voice was evident now, it was like years worth of pent-up emotions in a guttural, raw cry for help from friends that just weren’t around anymore.

“Why do you guys keep… leaving?”

『••✎••』

[lykegenia]

The Towel Started It

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairings: Nate Sewell x Female Detective (Leah Kingston) Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

So this art by @greyhands lives rent free in my head, and what follows is shameless smut. No regrets.

Read on AO3

--

Leah frowns as she takes in Nate’s empty bedroom, the leatherbound notebook she borrowed from him clasped in one hand. She’s sure she heard a muffled response to her knock, inviting her in, and yet…

“Nate?”

“In here.” His voice reaches her from the opposite doorway, where a lazy waft of steam billows into the main room.

“Oh – sorry,” she calls. “I didn’t know you were in the bathroom.”

A chuckle. “It’s quite alright.”

“I just came to give you back the research notes you leant me.” She waves the hand containing the journal as if he can see it, and casts around for a flat surface that’s not already covered in books. “Is there somewhere you’d like me to… put…”

Nate has emerged to lean in the doorway, his usual fond smile giving way to a smirk as he drinks in the strength of her reaction. She tries – she really does – to keep her gaze on his face, on the way his still-damp hair curls slightly as it falls around his ears, but the expanse of his toned chest, still glistening a little with moisture, draws her eyes like the pull of a magnet. He’s only wearing a towel. It’s tucked around his slim hips and conceals down to just below his knees, the fluffy white contrasting with smooth, tawny skin. She watches, and he brings one arm up to rub a hand contemplatively along the stubbled line of his jaw, the movement flexing his bicep in a way that she knows is entirely on purpose. The part of her brain still monitoring systems reminds her lungs to inhale as he apparently comes to a decision and pushes off the doorframe.

“You’re early,” he purrs, lazing across the floor of his bedroom.

“Um.” She shakes her head. “Yeah. The meeting with Agent Markham didn’t last as long as it was supposed to. I thought I’d…” Trailing off, she waves the notebook again, vaguely, aware of the burn climbing the back of her neck.

“The research notes, yes, you said.” His brown eyes don’t leave her face as he reaches for them, and a jolt goes through her as his fingertips deliberately brush against the back of her hand. “I’m very grateful.”

She wonders if this is how the vampires feel all the time, needing to consciously remember to breathe – but so close, it’s a mistake, because the clean, rain-fresh scent of his skin is all but overwhelming, the glitter of water droplets still in his hair dazzling.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “You seem a little flushed.”

She can see the smile he’s trying to hide beneath the play of concern he wears, bringing his hand to her forehead as if to check her for a temperature. As if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“Fine – I’m – I just wasn’t expecting you to be so…”

“Informal?” He glances down at himself. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, rouhi.”

“You know that’s not the point,” she manages.

“Is it not?” His gaze is focussed like the sun through a lens – it’s a wonder she doesn’t actually burst into flames – and at some point he took the journal off her and spirited it away, but she only notices now because of the way his touch moves to the inside of her wrist. “Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

Her heart hammers in her chest as he leans down, but ghosts away from her lips to the exposed edge of her clavicle instead, warm breath chasing over her skin. Eyes closed, she has to reach out for his arm to keep her balance.

“I – you’re seducing me, aren’t you?”

There’s a pause, and then a laugh as he draws back to frame her face in his hands, a mutter in some foreign tongue that she can’t quite catch. Amusement crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I must be doing a poor job if you had to ask,” he says.

“No, it just – I mean –” she flounders, searching for the right thing to say “– it was good, but I really did just come to give you the notes. I didn’t expect… you know… anything else.”

With a sigh of fond exasperation his fingers skim down to twine with hers, his forehead a welcome balm against her embarrassment, because at least it means he can’t see the flare of crimson across her cheeks. But standing so close, there’s heat of a different kind brewing between them, one that makes her swallow against her dry mouth and clench her thighs together.

There’s no way that towel isn’t going to fall off.

“Ya rouhi,” he breathes. “Will you permit me to start again?”

It’s her turn to laugh. “Do you really think you need to?”

“Oh, yes.” He pulls back with a half-lidded look that has her smouldering. “I think I will need to make sure you are thoroughly” – an inch closer – “unequivocally” – a thumb brushing her bottom lip – “irredeemably seduced.”

A knock on the door makes her freeze. Her eyes flutter open to find Nate frowning, the look of a man searching for patience where there is none to be had.

“I hope you two aren’t up to anything in there,” Felix calls from the corridor. “Rebecca saw Leah turned up early and wants to brief us on tomorrow’s mission while we’re all here.”

She bites her lips together, bows her head.

“Library in five minutes!”

“There’s always something,” Nate mutters as the footsteps fade down the hallway. “I suppose we’ll have to –”

She dodges the kiss. “I don’t think so.”

“Wh–”

“You said you’d seduce me.” Grinning, she ducks out of his arms completely. “I’m not feeling very seduced.”

“Leah…”

The strangled tone of his voice almost makes her cave, but there’s a certain amount of perverse enjoyment to be had from knowing how much she affects him, from denying him what he hoped to get so easily.

“I only came here to drop off the research notes, remember?” she reminds him as she backs towards the door. “Besides, I think you might need a little more than five minutes if you’re going to be ready for this meeting.”

His brows draw together, and she casts a slow glance downwards to the tented front of the towel, which gives a brief, definite twitch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you a seat.”

Still smirking, cherishing the near-desperation her retreat has baited to the surface of his usually suave demeanour, she fumbles for the door handle, her heart bounding with the uncertainty of his self-control. The way he stutters towards her ignites anticipation in her gut, but instead of closing the space entirely his hands clench and he reels away, a harsh breath blown between his cheeks.

“Cruelty does not become you, you know,” he says, with a sidelong glance that shows off the perfect arch of his throat.

Unfair.

She swallows. “Maybe not, but it’s fun.”

A groan is the only reply as she escapes into the hall.

--

Leah still feels a little overheated as the team gathers in the living room, her forced calm betrayed by Adam’s glower, and the grin spread wide as a crescent moon across Felix’s face. That last sight of Nate as she closed the door, eyes hungry and every muscle coiled with want, kept her blood fizzing the whole way through the warehouse. She refuses to look Rebecca in the eye.

Five heads turn when the living room door opens.

“Finally,” Adam grumbles, without a slip in his professional veneer.

To his credit, Nate barely lets his gaze flicker over Leah before turning to Rebecca. “Sorry, there was something I had to take care of. What did I miss?”

He’s dressed in a regular shirt and jeans, and he seems to be in no discomfort as he slopes into the room. Felix’s gaze shifts between him and Leah with the anticipation of a pundit at a boxing match.

“We hadn’t started yet,” Rebecca says crisply.

There’s a pause while he crosses to the sofa, where Leah shifts in invitation and gives him room to settle against the cushions close enough to almost touch – but not quite – one arm stretched casually along its back.

“Nice of you to join us,” she murmurs.

“Now that we’re all here,” Rebecca interrupts, before he can answer, “there has been a change from your regular patrol routes. There have been reports of magical activity south of the lake, so you’ll be starting from Cairn Point to see if further action needs to be taken.”

From the corner of her eye, Leah watches him nod along to the brief, blithe and apparently unconcerned by her scrutiny, his presence buzzing against her skin like the noise of an unseen fly she’s determined to ignore, until after a moment of imagined, prickling heat caused simply by his closeness, a featherlight touch finds the back of her neck. She throws a sharp glance sideways as a shiver tenses across her shoulders, but he’s not looking at her, pretending instead to be oblivious to the reactions drawn out by the caress of his fingertips. To the shallowing of her breath and the uptick in her heartbeat.

Across the room, Mason rolls his eyes.

She swallows. Her body’s autonomic responses might be beyond her control, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to let him get away with it.

“What about the regular patrol routes?” she asks, shifting in her seat. Her knees draw up to tuck against Nate’s side, not quite inappropriate but it disguises her real aim, which is to slide her hand across the top of his thigh and rest it there, right on the inner seam of the denim. A breath hisses in through his teeth and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the victory from showing on her face.

Somehow they make it through the briefing, neither breaking the veneer of composure despite their subtle attempts to one-up each other. None of the rest of Unit Bravo are likely fooled, and even Rebecca’s lips start to purse when Nate has to clear his throat and cross his ankle over the opposite knee to give himself more room, but nobody comments. Eventually there’s nothing left to say and Rebecca stands with a brusque instruction to have reports filed promptly by the morning, before she sweeps out of the room.

Leah watches her go with what she hopes is a polite expression. One index finger is tapping a faint rhythm against her lips, as if she’s pondering something innocuous and not bending all of her attention to the way Nate sits taut as an overwound spring next to her, unable to do anything except tighten his knuckles in his lap.

“Can the rest of us leave now too,” Mason demands, “or are we going to be treated to the whole fucking show?”

Her face burns, but she doesn’t rise to the bait.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Nate says.

“I need a cigarette.”

He stalks out. A silent conversation is raging between Nate and Adam, the team leader’s arms folded so tightly his shirt nearly bursts with the effort of keeping his disapproval contained. A moment passes where Leah contemplates leaving too – to give them more room for their little staring contest – but as if sensing the thought, Nate’s fingers give a minute flex on the back of her neck. Instead, she looks to Felix, who’s watching the scene unfold with open glee. She’s still in control enough to look down, bashful, her lips rolled between her teeth, when he throws her a wink.

Finally, Adam moves towards the door. “Felix, you wished to show me something in the training room.”

“I did?”

“Yes.” The word seems to cause Adam physical pain. “Now.”

“I don’t remember – Ohhhh, right.” Felix grins. “Well, if you really want me to show it to you now…” He rises from his chair with a dramatic roll of his eyes, only to turn with another wink when he reaches the far end of the room. “Hope you two don’t mind being left on your own!”

“We’ll manage,” Nate replies. “Thank you for the concern.”

The younger vampire dodges around Adam, who stands to cast one last meaningful look over his shoulder before pulling the door shut behind him.

“Well, that was about as subtle as –”

The rest of the words are consumed in the hungry crush of Nate’s mouth, the instant of surprise giving way to a whimper as need unspools through her limbs. She meets him, fingers dragging at his collar as the hand on the back of her neck winds into her hair, as the kiss deepens into a rough press of lips and tongues. Her legs are still folded across his lap – he winds around them, so close all she can feel is the warm, firm plane of his torso.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he gasps against her mouth.

“Is it the reason you were late?”

He growls and slips a hand beneath the hem of her shirt, grinning when her back arches under the touch. It makes her laugh, to be so giddy, and when her head falls back  out of reach of his kiss he obliges by dropping his attention to her collarbone instead, peeking out from the edge of her shirt, and with a blunt scrape of teeth the sound deepens into a groan.

“You know why I was late.” His mouth lifts again to her jaw – not her neck, never her neck – and trails a path towards her ear.

“It’s – your fault.”

“How so?”

“You started it.”

“No, that can’t be right.” He pouts and draws back, his touch running down her arms until their fingers can lace together. “I’m sure I’m perfectly innocent in all of this.”

“I was trying to do you a favour by giving you your notes back!” she cries, playing up her outrage.

His expression turns lofty as he tilts forward again. “And I only wanted to thank you for such kindness.”

The moment hangs between them, teasing, her heart thundering in anticipation as she catches his face and brings him to her lips. “Then thank me.”

It’s easier said than done, despite Nate’s obvious enthusiasm. The sofa, generously proportioned though it is, is narrower than his bed, the back a hindrance to her limbs as they shuffle for a more comfortable position, but she’s too busy kissing him to care, too happy to have his fingers dancing over her ribs. When they finally get their legs untangled he finds his place between her thighs, weight settled deliciously over her, arms wrapping around her back to eliminate the last of the space between them. His hips roll and sparks fly behind her eyelids.

“Fuck.”

He smirks against her cheek. “That’s what I was thinking.”

She laughs again, breathless, clutching at his shoulders. “I can tell. I’m pretty sure everyone else could as well.”

“Was it too much?” he asks.

Her face is scarlet, the bare need of a moment before giving space to his concern, the worrying bright in his brown eyes. The scent of arousal is now so thick in the air around them that it overwhelms even her human nose.

“No?” she tries. She wants to reassure. “I’ve just never done anything that… public. God, in front of my mother.”

“Perhaps I should have been more restrained,” he allows, tracing her jaw. “But when I walked in and saw you sitting here, the thought of not touching you was unbearable.”

To emphasise the point, he leans forward and kisses the same path as his finger, little nips that tense her legs around him.

“Is that so?”

Instead of a true answer, he hums and covers her mouth again. She draws him close, seeking friction, arching into the brush of contact as he once more slips a hand beneath her shirt.

“We’re really doing this here?” she asks.

He stops. “We don’t have to.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she breathes. “Though usually in my head – when I’ve thought about this – we’re the only ones in the warehouse.”

“Are we?” His eyes light up. “You’ll have to tell me more. But first…” A pause, and his touch falls to the top button of her shirt, his gaze dragging upwards to focus on her face. Waiting.

He really is beautiful. His hair is tangled from her fingers, his lips swollen from her kisses, his lashes a dark flutter against his cheek as he leans into her touch.

Compelled forwards, she shifts beneath him until they’re close enough to share breath. She hears him swallow, thrills with the power she has to hold him back.

“Don’t stop.”

He surges forward. Still mindful of her comfort, he holds the back of her neck as he slants his mouth across hers, the other hand already at work on her shirt buttons, and as she gasps and rolls against him, slow and deliberate. The last of her thoughts go out of her head.

“This is what I thought about,” he purrs, dipping to lap at newly exposed skin. “When you left me, I had to use my imagination.”

Her breath catches.

“Would you like to know what imagined?”

She gives a desperate nod, grounded only by the iron strength of his arms. His fingers drop to the button on her jeans and unfasten it with ease, and when he hesitates – deliberate, poised – she tries not to squirm.

“What might we have done if we hadn’t been interrupted…”

“Nate –”

“I’m here,” he tells her. “The way you respond to me, ya rouhi…”

Another undignified noise as he undoes the fly, her hips stuttering to chase the movement. Instead of giving her the friction she wants, however, he caresses upwards again, pushing aside the fabric of her shirt with a nonchalance she knows is being drawn out for his own enjoyment.

There’s an appreciative hum when he reaches her chest. He would never say he dislikes her sports bras, which provide many benefits for someone with a semi-regular acquaintance to peril, but even so he craves her in silk, in lace, in fine embroidery that glides beneath his palms. Not that she owns anything quite that fancy, but as he runs his hands over one breast and bends to tease the nipple of the other through the sheer fabric, she allows a flare of triumph for taking the time to change.

And he’s thorough. He maps her curves with patient fingertips, with a light graze of teeth that breaks into sharp counterpoint when he bites down. His hair is cashmere-soft in her fists, her lips clamped together to keep quiet, but even so noise slips out – bitten-off, broken throated moans that she can’t help, and which bring a smirk to his generous mouth.

“I could keep you like this for hours,” he confesses, like it’s a sin. He knows the rough edge to his voice does things to her, and no doubt catches the hitch in her breath as he pours the words into her ear, the tick in her pulse as desire throbs low in her belly.

Almost beyond speech now, she can only turn into him, arch into his palm, bracing against the taut muscle of his shoulder to keep herself from flying away.

“Fuck – Nate –”

His touch moves down again, slips beneath her jeans. She bucks, pins him there by the wrist as two fingers press in a slow, firm glide against her, and has to bite back a whimper. A brief thought passes through the haze of sensation that she’s not being very fair – his breath is as ragged as hers, after all, and he keeps shifting his hips to find relief – and so her hand drifts lower, seeking out the hard outline of his own arousal, and maybe a little bit of payback.

“Ah-ah,” he scolds before she can touch him, pushing her away. “Don’t distract me.”

Her laugh verges on a sob, her gaze half-lidded and flicking between his lips and the hand once again inching between her legs. His eyes are intent on her face, on her reactions, the rich brown of his irises swallowed by black. He doesn’t resist the curl of her fingers on the back of his neck, but before she can demand a kiss he chooses that moment to finally slip beneath the thin cotton of her underwear and suddenly there’s no space in her head for anything else. Her muscles lock, her eyes squeeze shut, and he’s whispering in her ear now, rocking his fingers just stubbornly shy of the pace she needs. As her breath shortens into harsh, hummed pants she feels him, too, straining against the rising tide of pleasure, trying to make it last. Cramp threatens in her calf – she ignores it, grinds harder against his palm, uncaring of the whine in her throat as sensation condenses into one bright, glowing point.

She feels the orgasm coming an instant before it crashes through her. Drawn tight, her back arches, lips bitten hard together on the moan that tries to escape her throat. Legs clench together. Nails bite into skin. For a long, lovely moment the waves of it carry her in suspense, and when it finally subsides Nate is there to catch her, with a kiss pressed to her temple and strong arms that run calming patterns along her side.

“Are you alright?”

Little aftershocks skitter across her shoulders. “‘m gonna need a minute.”

His chuckle blooms against her cheek. Turning, she presses a blind kiss to it, secure and safe, enveloped in his scent, with his pulse a focus beneath her fingertips. It’s this moment she loves as much as what comes before, the casual affection and assurance in gentle touches that tell her she won’t be left alone. In a minute, she’ll care again that they’re in the warehouse’s living room, wrapped around each other on a sofa other people have to use, but for now she’s content and absolutely does not want to move.

“Do you not want a turn?” she asks when she finally finds her voice again.

“I took mine earlier,” he rumbles. “We’re even now.”

Her laugh comes out more like a sigh, drowsy and replete. “Nobody said we only get one turn each.”

“True. Though perhaps the finer points of that discussion should be had somewhere with less chance of interruption.”

“You’re still the one who started this,” she points out.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“And you’re far too pleased with yourself.”

He hums and nudges a kiss against her cheek. “Should I not be?”

“I think you’re –”

A gurgle from her stomach interrupts. There’s a beat of silence before they collapse together into quiet giggling.

“I suppose that settles that,” Nate says when he’s recovered. “May I treat you to dinner?”

She nods. “Dinner sounds good.”

“And then… the rest of the evening is ours.”

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]

@today-in-fic | ao3

Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who’s had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter Ten.

The ship is sinking.

The water climbing its way up now, people will be making their way to the top deck, people will be running by this room.

But Scully has yet to hear a thing. No one’s came down this corridor. What’s even along this corridor aside from this office and maybe a few storage closets?

She glances outside the porthole to water. Scully could see out of this earlier, just along the water’s surface.

This is bad.

In one last hopeless plea that someone is near enough to hear her, she bangs the chain against the pipe, screaming as loud as she can.

“Can someone help me!”

Still, there’s not a soul around.

And where is Mulder?

She pictures him safe on a lifeboat with his family, sailing away from any danger that could befall him. Scully shakes the bitter image away. She has to focus on herself before this gets very bad.

She tries everything in that moment; scrunching her hand up to see if they’ll fit through the holes, hanging her weight off the chain to see if it’ll break, but the chain is solid metal, the bracelets made well enough that nobody but a magician could get out of them. And Scully is no magician.

She slumps against the pipe, wrists aching, hands hurting.

“This is bad,” she says, her eyes closing in defeat.

Her heart freezes when she hears the faint sound of water sloshing. Eyes opening quicker than they closed, she watches the water begin to creep in from beneath the door.

“Fuck!” she cries, immediately moving her arms to the top of the pipe and beginning to climb as more water slips in.

Despite the little pressure the water comes rushing in. In minutes everything this room, Scully included, will be swimming.

In a desperate attempt, Scully tries breaking the cuffs again, beating them against the pipe.

The water slowly begins to rise, dislodging the furniture from its place in the room. She has five minutes at most to come up with a plan.

“Come on…come on…” she repeats as a mantra, the banging of metal, her cries, and the sound of water the only noise to be heard throughout the corridor.

Until.

“Scully! Scully!”

At first she’s unsure if she’s heard it right, until it comes again.

There’s only one person in the entirety of Titanic to call her by her last name.

“Mulder!”

The water now approaching her knees, Scully climbs onto the table.

“…Scully!”

“Mulder!” she shouts back in response. “Mulder, I’m in here!”

Her eyes stay fixed on the door that’s just partially open, praying the incoming water keeps it that way.

“Scully…” she hears Mulder call again but it sounds further away.

“Mulder, I need you to follow my voice!” she calls back, trying to guide him to her. “Just follow my voice and keep shouting!”

“Scully!”

It was sounding nearer again.

“Keep moving forward, Mulder. There’s an open door, I’m in here!”

She sits on the desk now, floating above the water that still continues to rise. As she looks around for something Mulder can use to break the handcuffs, it’s the first time she notices the slight tilt in the room. If her theory is correct, the front of the ship will go down first. They need to get to the back.

“Scully!”

Mulder stands in the doorway, as real as this sinking is, and Scully finally allows the hope for survival to return. Relief floods through her as her body finally relaxes.

“Mulder…”

He pushes various bits of furniture out of the way, coming to a stop in front of her.

Instantly she feels his lips descend onto hers. Scully melts into the kiss, comforted by the fact that she now isn’t alone in this watery hell.

She lets them kiss for a bit longer before allowing reality to set back in.

They pull away, foreheads falling against each other. Scully allows herself this moment to just draw strength from Mulder, to finally understand that she’s no longer alone, that for now it’s the two of them.

She briefly lets go of the fear.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I should of,” Mulder whispers and Scully smiles slightly, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about that now.” She lifts her head up, shaking her still handcuffed hands. “You need to find a key or something.”

The water is a lot deeper now, almost up to Mulder’s chest. Scully doesn’t even want to think of where it’ll come up for her.

“A key, right.” Mulder moves away from her, headed towards the key cabinet and throwing open the doors. “What colour was it?”

“Brass, I think.”

“Brass…brass…There’s no brass key!”

The panic begins to set in again. Her eyes dart about the room, looking for anything that can be used to break the cuffs. She spins around, losing the buoyancy of the table in her rush to find something, yelping as the cold water brushes against her leg as she fights not to fall in.

Mulder is there, throwing his hand out towards her and steading the table, Scully regains her balance.

Slower this time, Scully continues to look around the room. As she scans past the door, something red catches her eye.

An axe.

“There!” she shouts, pointing towards the door. “The axe.” Mulder follows her point, seeing what she sees then quickly turns back to her.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

The room continues to fill, getting deeper and deeper as time is wasted.

“Yes!” Scully all but cries. “Go!”

Her eyes do not move from Mulder as he paddles his way out of the room, breaking the glass with his elbow and yanking the axe from its case. He re-enters, axe in hand and Scully prepares herself, spreads her arms as much as she can with what little leeway the chain gives her.

“Go on,” she encourages, biting down the panic and nerves. If this goes wrong, this is going to hurt.

Mulder looks straight into her eyes, asking, “You trust me?”

For some insane reason she does, she really does. “Yes, I trust you.”

He nods, poises the axe in the air and swings. At the last second Scully shuts her eyes, preparing herself for the pain and the blood.

The axe collides with the chain, breaking the metal in half and lodging itself within the pipe.

Scully can’t believe it, he did it. She opens her eyes, catches Mulder’s equally surprised expression. Now free, she pulls him into her, hugging and thanking him over and over again. His arms fold around her, holding her tight against him.

“We need to go,” he says pulling away.

He’s right, they don’t have long and they have four decks to climb up before they can get on a lifeboat.

Mulder helps her down into the water and Scully has never felt cold like it- it burns her nerves, stabbing every place imaginable.

“Shit!” she cries, how the hell has Mulder been standing in this for so long?

“I know, come on.” He grabs onto her hand and Scully notices she can’t touch the floor without going under. She tries to remain calm, to not let that panic overwhelm her. Just keep hold of Mulder and once they are off E-Deck they should be safe.

Grasping hold of Mulder’s hand, Scully half swims-half paddles her way out of the office.

“Shit, the exits blocked,” she hears Mulder say above the torrent of water bursting through the door at the end of the corridor. She sees it too, a wave of pressurised water that would kill them alone.

The lights flicker above, the electricity struggling to stay one against the onslaught of ice-cold water, combined with the creaking as Titanic struggles to withstand the added weight, it makes for an incredibly eerie setting.

“Come on, there’s got to be another way out,” Scully shouts above the waves. She takes the lead, heading in the opposite direction and into the darkness ahead.

It’s a labyrinth. A maze of cabins and storage rooms. Whoever designed the Titanic never intended for it to be an easy escape.

Scully sighs in frustration at yet another dead end and to make matters worse they were still on E-Deck.

“This is stupid!” she cries, kicking the door and sighing once more in frustration.

“You hear that?” Mulder asks.

Scully stops huffing and puffing for a moment to listen.

“This way. Go down there and to your left, now…Stop running! You’re not allowed to run down the corridors! This way, Miss.”

A smile begins spreading across Scully’s face at the sound of another person’s voice. She moves towards the door, pressing her ear against it.

“There’s a corridor on the other side of this door,” she says and Mulder nods.

Still, there is one more issue.

“So how do we get through it?”

Mulder smiles, “I just broke metal, woods gonna be no issue for me.”

Scully watches as Mulder repeatedly slams his shoulder against the wooden door.

“That’s White Starline Property,” she says, a smirk across her face. There’s no humour in it really.

“Don’t you start.”

It takes a few more slams of the shoulder, Scully helping out towards the end but eventually the wood snaps and they both fall through to the other corridor.

Briskly, they start speed-walking away from the damage to  an exit. Down the corridor and to the left, as the man said.

“Oi!” A voice behind them shouts, different to the one earlier. “That’s White Starline Property, you’ll have to pay for that, you know.” It was funnier when Scully said it.

Ever in sync, Mulder and Scully spin at the same time, both huffing out an annoyed Shut up! to the boy-steward. They don’t wait to gauge the boy’s reaction before they’re turning the corridor to…

A mob of third class passengers.

“We just want a chance, for god’s sake, let us through!” an Irish man shouts at the top of his lungs. He and a few others occupy the very front of the rally, many of the other passengers egging them on as they shout at the stewards on the other side of the gate.

The gates are locked, Scully realises.

“Count on the Irish to start a riot,” Mulder jokes though his worry at their current situation sweeps through as he looks around for another way out.

“I think this time it’s justified,” says Scully, also looking for another way free. In the corner stands a mother and her two children. The boy tugs against his mother’s coat.

Scully doesn’t hear what the lad asks but hears the mother response.

“Soon. There just getting the first class people onto the boats, and then they’ll be starting with us.”

Scully’s heart breaks in two at the false hope. She wonders what one would say in this situation, what she would say if she had children. Lie like this woman has or tell the truth? That they’re not getting out any time soon.

Her attention is diverted when she hears a familiar voice shout through the crowd.

“Aye, you just want to save the first class bastards, forget about the poor stuck at the bottom, you slimy gits!”

Relief floods through her at the sound of Charlie’s voice. He’s alive.

For now.

She watches the red-headed boy push away from the gate and force his way through the crowd. Defeated and hopeless, Scully reaches out to him.

“Charlie!”

Immediately, the boy perks up at the sound of his voice. He spies her instantly, running the last couple of steps towards them.

“Dana.” He collapses into her embrace instantly, no longer needing to be a leader and can just be the younger brother sourcing comfort from his older sister in a time of panic.

“It’s no use,” Charlie says against her. “There not letting anyone through.”

Still hugging her brother, Scully looks anxiously towards Mulder. Reading her request just simply through her look, Mulder jostles his way through the people. Scully ends her embrace, brushing past Charlie to follow Mulder up the stairs.

“You have to wait your turn,” one of the stewards say. “They’re not ready for you to board yet.”

“You have to let us through,” Mulder says, speaking over them. “These people deserve a chance to live.”

“You have to wait your turn, they’re not ready for you yet.”

“Jesus Christ, man!” Scully speaks up, angered by the handling of this situation. “There’s women and children down here!”

But the steward refuses to deviate from his script. His constant condescending voice riles Scully. She grasps her fingers around the gate’s bars and furiously shakes them, making her anger known to the stewards and people around them. She doesn’t even bother to listen to their Now stop that, or we won’t let you through at all response before she’s launching herself down the stairs.

“I told you it was hopeless,” says Charlie.

Scully wasn’t prepared to die by being handcuffed to a pipe, and she isn’t prepared to die stuck behind a gate. Adrenaline and anger surging through her, she looks around for some implement to use to break all the steward’s faces when she finds something better.

“Charlie, help me with this bench,” she instructs, bending to grasp the bench.

“You canna be serious, Dana?” Charlie says, his eyes wide with shock at his sister’s irrationalism.

“Would you rather drown?”

Charlie does as he’s told, gaining a hold on the bench. A few others gather around them, including the first Irish man to shout before, realising what they are planning to do and all pitch in to help, grabbing the middle.

“Ready,” says Scully. “One…two…three…” Together, the four of them rip the bench from the floor. Using all her strength, Scully positions the bench to her chest, ready to ram it against the gate.

The stewards realise what they’re doing, her eyes widening with shock as the insistent stewards yells at them to stop and put that bench down. They ignore him, and all together bash the bench against the gate as the stewards make a run for it. People cheer them on, Mulder keeps the path clear as they ram the bench into the gate twice more before the flimsy metal snaps and a hole is created.

They begin jumping through. Mulder helps Scully over and they run through D-Deck. They run for their lives.

[therealvikingstrash]

This is the fourth entry for @vikingsevents Valentine's Week. The prompts were Misunderstanding and Best Friend. I'm a little bit late for it, but better late than never, right? xD Nothing worth of a warning in the fic, everything is just mentioned and not acted upon. Ragnar and his anger issues are its own warning lol. This really is just sort of a modern take of canon events with added spice. (1,4k fic under the cut)

"Jesus!" Ragnar exclaimed after entering the kitchen. He had a feeling that something wasn't right once he made it through the front door, but had been too tipsy to care. He swayed in place and then leaned against the wall near the door. When those taxing eyes took in his miserable state, Ragnar hid his face by rubbing it with both hands. Desperately willing the drunkenness away.

"Not quite," Floki responded belatedly and Ragnar could hear the slow smile forming on his friends lips. "Where have you been?" He asked and from the sounds of it, kicked the chair out from the kitchen table to invite Ragnar to sit. "I had to wait for hours."

Ragnar sucked on his teeth noisily and pushed himself off the wall, finally looking at his old friend properly. He was dressed in the same suit he wore when he got arrested. "No one asked you to," he told him and sat down opposite of him. "Why are you here?" Ragnar squinted his eyes in suspicion. He hadn't seen Floki since the trial and hadn't planned on changing that. Especially not on this particular day, but here Floki was sitting at his table, with his crossed arms leaning on the surface.

"You are my friend, Ragnar," Floki replied sincerely, his hands now folded in front of his face, hiding the lower part efficiently. "I worried." He added sincerely, causing Ragnar to slap his hand onto the table with force. 

"Do not lie to me," he pointed at Floki, his voice raised. The alcohol always made it easier to tap into his anger. It was one of the reasons Aslaug had left him. The thought of her only worsened his rage. She'd gone and took the boys with her. It hadn't been her intention to prevent Ragnar from seeing them, but when a judge had to decide how to split the time, Ragnar had been drunk out of his mind. That day, Aslaug got full custody without another chance for him to explain. 

Floki's high pitched giggle sounded haughty and his friend looked away from him. "Everything I did was for you," he told Ragnar. "Everything."

It had his blood boil further and without a second thought Ragnar threw the little decorative plastic flowers Ecbert had gotten off the table with an enraged shout, the ceramic pot breaking into a thousand pieces as he stood. "You came into my house, you threatened my family!" Ragnar yelled, his breathing heavy. "You did it for yourself."

"Athelstan was not your family," Floki replied, his brows furrowed in similar anger. He wasn't quite on Ragnar's level, but he would get there easy enough. "He was a whore at best, playing footsie with you at the dinner table you shared with your wife."

Ragnar scoffed in disagreement. "Since when do you care about Aslaug?" He asked. "You knew she was fine with it, you-" he broke off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Why was Floki here on the anniversary of Athelstan's death? It didn't make sense to Ragnar. The Floki he knew had never trampled over his feelings like this. "Why are you here?" He asked again, this time Ragnar forced his voice to remain calm. 

Slowly, his friend reached into the pocket of his jacket and then threw a silvery object onto the table. "It belongs to you." Floki told him and leaned back in the chair. So relaxed like he didn't kill the man Ragnar loved ten years ago. On further inspection he noticed that Floki had brought him the bracelet he'd given to Athelstan. He'd had a goldsmith make it shorter to stop it from falling off the other man's wrist. Ragnar would never be able to wear it again. Not that he wanted to.

With a slow nod Ragnar pushed the chair he'd sat on under the table. He needed to distance himself from Floki, or he would hurt him. "Thanks," he found himself saying. "Now fuck off," Ragnar added for good measure. "I don't want you here today."

Floki made no indication to move. He seemed to be oddly offended at Ragnar's dismissal. "Ten years is enough to grieve for a boy toy," he said and Ragnar knew he was deliberately cruel. His friend had been with him when he stumbled over Athelstan in their club. An anorexic little thing with daddy issues and a history of drug addiction. Ragnar later told Floki that Athelstan had been in a catholic school with many priests who had wandering hands. But he'd always lacked empathy where Athelstan was concerned and Ragnar knew that. Floki leaned forward to catch Ragnar's eyes. "I went to jail for you."

The sheer fury gleaming in Ragnar's eyes was too short a warning before he basically threw his hands onto the tabletop and towered over Floki. His breath was coming in short puffs. "I did not ask you to! You were supposed to tell the truth." Ragnar said the last bit through his teeth. 

"Thirty years for you, or ten for me," Floki replied, "Easy choice." He said and Ragnar knew he was right. He'd already been on parole and if the cops had found his many, many firearms and not so small amounts of drugs at his house, he'd be locked away for most of his remaining life. So Floki admitted it was him who evaded the taxes of the club they owned and they found nothing at Floki's place– he was smart enough to stash it somewhere else entirely. Floki had gone to jail for fraud alone. His friend's eyes turned soft as he looked up at Ragnar, "I would do anything for you."

He was close to tears when he moved away from the table, only to round it and stand right in front of Floki. Ragnar hesitantly reached for his friend's face to hold it in both hands, gently stroking over his cheeks, "Then tell me why you killed Athelstan, hm?" He leaned down to press his forehead against Floki's temple and whispered, "Why?" Over and over before his hand moved up and got hold of Floki's almost hairless scalp, pulling it harshly back to force him to make eye contact. "Why?" Ragnar hollered at his friend who remained mute through it all. 

"He was a junkie and overdosed," Floki told him calmly. Something that he had already heard from the police. "You knew it, I knew it– everyone! Not a single soul was shocked by it." He said, but his extensive blinking spoke against the truthfulness of his statement. Ragnar was aware of Athelstan's past, he'd even fucked with him on multiple occasions why they'd both been high. 

Once more he invaded Floki's personal space, coming cheek to cheek with him. "I knew every part of his body, seen it all and I knew his mind," Ragnar said quietly, a strange threat lurking underneath. "He'd sworn off H months before his death… for me." Floki's eyes widened momentarily in realization. "He never would've overdosed."

It momentarily looked like his friend wanted to come clean, mumbling incomprehensibly until Ragnar moved away. "A misunderstanding, we fought," Floki said, the deranged giggle he let out sounded like he'd suppressed it for hours. "I hit him and he wanted to tell you."

"I don't believe you," Ragnar replied, once again urging Floki to tell the truth. "You lured him out of my house," and into a rundown place full of addicts. "I ask you one last time, why you did it." Ragnar tried again, but Floki shook his head, refusing to budge. "Was it jealousy?" He bluntly asked, causing Floki to become stock-still. 

His friend exhaled a long breath before desperately inhaling. "You chose him," Floki said quietly, almost like he didn't want him to hear. "Over me," he added and met Ragnar's gaze steadily. "How could you?" 

Something like sympathy creeped up inside Ragnar and he inclined his head a couple times in a slow and jerky movement. "You've been my best friend for all my life, Floki," he told him, the side of his face sticking to Floki's to speak directly into his ear. "You've known me longer than anyone else." He wished his friend had told him what he was going through, and maybe Athelstan would still be alive. 

When he pressed a kiss to Floki's temple, his friend's hands pulled at the front of Ragnar's shirt and into an awkward hug. They lost ten years of their friendship, time they would never get back, but now he understood why Floki had lied for him, why he had hated Athelstan so much. 

Envy was the death of all love. 

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 22

▪ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Size Kink

▪ Genre: Smut

▪ Word Count: 2k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Hyunjin, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, teasing, build up, size kink, unprotected sex, a single mention of biting, creampie

▪ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Warm Ivory, Taupe, and Sherbet Orange <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

The setting sun gently bathes your home in warm hues, pouring in through each windowpane to embrace every surface it can reach.

You quietly stand in your living room, resting back against the arm of your couch as you watch different colors blossom in the cloud-filled sky. It's oddly peaceful watching the sun set, no matter how long you get to witness it for. Some days, you watch the sun set from the moment the sun rays start to dim until the sky grows dark; other days you only catch the sunset at its prettiest, most vibrant state, and sometimes you reluctantly miss it altogether.

Over time, you've made it a habit to use this time to reset and regroup; especially if you've had a rough day. You let all your thoughts from the day carefully fade from your mind as you slowly wind down. Normally, this works like a charm and you're easily able to spend the rest of your night with a clear, calm mind, but tonight, your body works against you and your mind can't seem to shake the need for your boyfriend.

This need only grows when you finally make your way into your room to see Hyunjin laying comfortably in your shared bed, his phone in hand as he watches the drama he's been binging for the past few days.

This sight is far from rare, and normally you quietly greet him, going about your tasks before leaving him in his peace. Sometimes he pats the open space next to him, inviting you to watch with him as he tucks you safely into his side. It's one of your favorite ways to spend time with Hyunjin and its become something you find yourself looking forward to. This time, however, you find yourself mindlessly moving towards him, your eyes locked on the open space in his lap as you slowly climb onto the bed.

Hyunjin briefly glances at you, catching your eyes in their lust-filled gaze as he lightly smirks, an action that your brain barely registers as you gently grab both his wrists. You hold onto his wrists to help keep you balanced as you throw a leg over his waist, settling into his lap a second later. You then simply push his hands upward, careful not to knock his phone out of his hands as you make enough space to rest against his chest.

Hyunjin feels his heart melt in his chest when you nuzzle into him, enjoying the physical contact as you bury your face in his neck. One of his hands comes to rest on your back, soothingly rubbing at the expanse as he presses a kiss to your head.

"Hi, angel." He quietly whispers out to you, hearing a deep breath leave your lips as you relax into him.

"Hi, Jinnie." You answer just as quietly, fighting the urge to roll your hips against his as the burning need between your thighs turns into gentle throbbing.

Hyunjin tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting the groans that bubble in the back of his throat when he feels you pulse against him. This doesn't get any easier to ignore when he takes notice of how tiny you look on top of him. The size difference between you two never goes unnoticed to either of you; whether it's during mundane everyday tasks, or whenever you two are intimate, and it makes both of your heads spin every single time.

"What do you need, baby?" He softly asks you as if he can't feel what you need, and he feels you shake your head in response, not trusting your voice to answer him verbally.

You can feel Hyunjin's length slowly harden beneath you, and with how you're positioned on Hyunjin's lap, it presses right against your clit. You almost moan at that feeling alone, the throbbing between your thighs almost painful now as you involuntarily squirm in Hyunjin's lap.

Hyunjin's eyes squeeze shut, his breathing slowly growing uneven as his hand that's still resting on your back wraps tightly around your torso. Even in his current state, Hyunjin still finds it within himself to drag this out and tease you. So, he redirects his focus back to his drama. Maybe he'll give in and give you what he knows you need, or maybe he'll let you take what you need instead.

Within seconds you cave, your hips rolling against his with as much force as you can manage, and the action has loud moans tearing from both your throats. Hyunjin loosens his grip around you just enough to not restrict your movements as he lets his hand snake underneath the fabric of your oversized shirt.

He can feel your arousal soaking through the fabric of his sweatpants, and he has to fight the urge to throw his phone across the room so he can rip your clothes off. Your soft moans spill endlessly into his ear, and with your head still nuzzled into his neck, it gets increasingly difficult for Hyunjin to stick to his little plan.

He lets his eyes close again, taking a deep breath as your desperate grinds turn into needy bounces. He somehow manages to calm his mind slightly; his body still reacting to your every sound and move as you sit up in his lap. Your hips still and when you look down at him, he returns your gaze with the same smirk from before, seemingly calm and collected as you hurriedly pull your shirt over your head.

You lift yourself to your knees, taking in the sight of the wet patch on Hyunjin's sweatpants from your arousal before you hook your fingers into the waistband. You pull them down until his length springs free, lightly smacking against his abdomen before it stands tall for you.

You look at Hyunjin again, his head turned to the side as he watches his drama, his smirk still etched into his features as he lets you do as you please. You pay his antics no mind, his teasing intentions barely processing in your brain as you gently grip the base of his cock. You hear a light hiss leave Hyunjin's lips and you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly when you run his tip through your folds.

You hurriedly press his tip into your hole, letting the head of his cock push past your entrance as you slowly sink down on him. Your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, your jaw going slack as you take all of him. Hyunjin has his bottom lip between his teeth again, his eyes shut tight as his free hand grips at your hip, guiding you further down his length until he bottoms out.

You stay still with him fully sheathed inside you for a minute, your walls pulsing around him as he throbs inside you. You can't help the whine that leaves you at your boyfriend's lack of participation, and he only kneads at your hip to reassure you that he's there.

"You're so big, Jinnie." You whimper out, not only referring to how full you feel with him all the way inside you, but how big his hand feels underneath your significantly smaller one when you rest it on top of where he's kneading at your skin.

You feel him twitch inside you at your words. You know how much he gets off on being bigger than you, and it takes everything in him not to zero in on the fact you look half his size from where he's looking up at you.

This is just as difficult for him as it is for you, and for a second, he questions if dragging this out is really worth it. He struggles to pay any kind of attention to his drama, each word jumbling together and inevitably sounding like gibberish as he struggles to even keep ahold of his phone.

Through the clouds of need in your mind, you briefly notice Hyunjin's composer slipping, and that's all it takes for you to realize that he's doing this on purpose. Without another second, you raise your hips enough for just his tip to be nestled inside you before you drop your hips to meet his. The second time you repeat this action, Hyunjin lets his phone drop from his hand, his drama long forgotten as both of his hands now grip at your hips.

He helps you bounce on his cock, the rhythm messy and inconsistent as you both act on pure need, constantly trying to get more of the other. Echoes of your skin repeatedly connecting with Hyunjin's sounds through your room as you ride him, the desperate need to cum overwhelming the burning in your thighs as you set a slow, rough pace.

You press your hands against Hyunjin's chest for support, endless moans and whimpers accompany the sound of your hips connecting with Hyunjin's as you continue to ride him. Eventually, the burn in your thighs becomes too much, your hips faltering slightly. Hyunjin notices this immediately and wastes no time in pulling you back into his chest, wrapping both his arms around you as he plants both of his feet on the bed. He thrusts up into you, matching the pace you had seconds prior as you mewl into his neck.

"You feel so good, baby." He moans out, feeling you clench around him as he gently nips at your shoulder. "Why'd you wait so long to come and put me inside you, angel?"

The moan that leaves your lips in response to his words is nothing short of pornographic, your eyes rolling back as you clench around him. If your walls clamping down on his length didn't rip the air from his lungs, Hyunjin would've smirked in response. Nothing inflates his ego more than being able to see and feel the effect his words have on you.

"Answer me, baby." Hyunjin groans out, his voice coming off as stern purely due to his labored breathing.

"I dunno-" you quickly answer, your words getting cut off by a loud moan when Hyunjin manages to sink deeper inside you.

Your eyes roll back when his tip nudges against that gummy spot deep inside you, your teeth sinking into his shoulder a second later as he makes a point to hit that same spot with every thrust of his hips.

"Yea? Right there, angel?" He asks you breathlessly, knowing the closest thing to a verbal response he's gonna get is a choked sob. "You gonna cum for me?"

You only nod in response, your moans getting caught in your throat as you approach your high at lighting speed. You desperately cling to Hyunjin as your walls start to tighten around his length, your high seconds away from washing over you.

"I know you're close, baby. Fuck, can feel you tightening around me." Hyunjin moans out, feeling your nails dig into his biceps. "Cum for me, angel, please."

That's all it takes for you to tumble over the edge, screams of pleasure tearing from your throat as your vision goes black. You shake on top of Hyunjin as you cream around his cock, the feeling of his bare length dragging against your velvety walls only heightens the intensity and pleasure as he fucks you through your orgasm. A few seconds later, you feel Hyunjin bury his length inside you to the hilt, holding you securely against him as he cums inside you, stuffing you full.

Your walls continue to pulse around him, milking him dry as you collapse against him. The sounds of loud moans and breathless whines die down, being replaced by desperate gasps and labored breaths as Hyunjin presses kisses to whatever part of you he can reach.

Eventually, your breathing evens out and your heart rates slow, and a comfortable silence settles between you two. It's gotten dark now, all the warm hues from earlier tucked away in darkness as another day comes to an end.

You lazily smile up at Hyunjin, his warm, content smile in return being the last thing you see before you drift off to sleep. Hyunjin holds you close, basking in the afterglow as he makes a mental note to not drag things out so long next time just because he enjoys seeing you needy and desperate for him.

Then again, how can he resist when the outcome and aftermath is always worth it?

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

This day...good fucking GOD😩😩

Love writing Jinnie as a teasing little shit because he loves seeing you a needy mess for him, purely because...that's exactly how he actually is. Trust me, I feel it in my bones.

I love writing so much, really gives me the opportunity to give myself everything I want😭😂

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©2021 - 2024 all rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 22nd, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Prescription

“Sir, please reconsider: that equipment could help us save lives!”

*Click*

“…Sir?”

Jian’s frustration rippled out of her as a guttural groan.  Sluggishly, she raised her coffee to her lips to drink, only to half spit it out upon discovering how cold it was.

“Wh—I just made this!”

A voice from the next cubicle said, “You’ve been on the phone for an hour, Jian.”

The clock confirmed their claim.  Once this fully processed, Jian sighed and set the cup back down.  “…Have any new patients come in?”

A clipboard jumped over the cubicle wall.  “Richardson found someone on his way in.  You’re welcome to take a look, but even at a glance she seems preeeeeetty banged up.”

Jian was already on her way, closely inspecting the board as she went; the other staff took care to keep her path clear.  She looked up to verify the room number and quietly cleared her throat as she stepped inside.

“Good morning, Miss…Tamzen.”

There was no reply.  The patient in-question (“Tamzen”, if the ID found on her was to be believed) lay sprawled out on the examination table, face obscured by her frayed mop of blue hair.  Wires wriggled beneath a cut in her leg, though the more obvious sign of her cybernetics would be her detached arm lying next to her.  Jian pursed her lips and glanced back at the clipboard.

She’s been unconscious for at least…35 minutes, according to Richardson.  Vitals are stable, but he noted copious surface-level damage to her implants, and given how long she’s been out it’s reasonable to assume there’s internal damage as well.  Where to begin…

The detached prosthetic arm was closest to her.  She first uncurled the fingers to examine the palm, then grabbed the wrist and tried to bend the limb.  It did bend…in the wrong direction.  Jian grimaced.  Tucking the clipboard under her own arm, she took the prosthetic in both hands and carefully lifted it.  She stopped when she noticed a sparking red eye staring out of the frayed blue mop.

Tamzen pushed herself into a sitting position in a flash, scurrying back to the far edge of the table.  “Who…where a--?!  Get…that…!”

Jian kept eye contact.  Only half of Tamzen’s right iris was red, with scratchy green coloring still coating the rest; sparks continued to pop from the corner of the eye socket at random intervals.  After setting the prosthetic back down, Jian took a slow step back and spoke in a calm, level voice: “It’s alright.  You’re safe here.  There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Yeah right!”  Tamzen snatched up her arm and shoved it back into place.  “If you nabbed me hoping for parts to sell, tough—”  She paused as her arm fell off with a loud clatter.  “…you won’t get much!”

Jian eased into a chair against the wall.  “This is a public clinic.  One of our doctors found you in that alleyway and brought you in for treatment.”

Tamzen’s eyes darted back and forth.

“My name is Jian.  I’m a medical roboticist—my doctorate is hanging right there.”

With great reluctance, Tamzen took a moment to examine the framed degree on the wall.  The sparks leaping from her eye became less frequent.  “…Well…still.  No point in wasting your time, doc: I don’t have insurance.”

“That’s fine.”

“…Huh?”

Jian smiled.  “You don’t need insurance here.  Our goal is to help whoever needs help, nothing more, nothing less.”

Tamzen just stared at her.

“Please, let me help you.  That’s all I want.”

Slowly, very slowly, Tamzen moved back to the center of the table.  Jian was just as slow in rising and approaching her.  Tamzen watched her closely as she resumed her examination.

“Your name is Tamzen, correct?  That’s what it said on your ID.”

“…Tam.”

“Tam.  I haven’t seen this model of prosthetic in a few years.  It’s actually in very good condition all things considered.”

She heard Tam grumble quietly.  “Again, no insurance.  I haven’t been able to afford new parts in a long time.”

Jian nodded as she set the arm down.  Pointing to Tam’s side, she asked, “May I take a look?”

Tam fidgeted for a moment before rolling up the hem of her shirt.  Jian lightly ran a hand over her side until she found and unsealed the access panel she was looking for.  The scent of smoke wafted into her face as she peered inside Tam’s torso: her silicone ribs were charred almost entirely black, and three of her titanium vertebrae showed signs of severe corrosion.  Nearly every inch of the organic tissue that remained was discolored and misshapen.  Despite her expertise, Jian couldn’t imagine just how much pain Tam must have been in just sitting there.

“Hmm…well.  There a few things I can do today to treat your immediate symptoms, but it will be a temporary fix.  I would highly recommend getting scheduled for more in-depth surgical maintenance as soon as possible.”

Tam furrowed her brow.  “…You trying to say you can fix me?  Actually?”

Sealing the panel, Jian tapped her foot.  “It’s…hard to make an accurate long-term projection without surgery and further testing.  Naturally, complications with cybernetics will only become increasingly likely the longer you’re unable to have them replaced and updated, but, based on what I can see now I can think of a few options with a high chance of improving your day-to-day.”

A spark burst from Tam’s eye.  “…Really…?”

“Really.  First I want to take a moment to patch you up, but then we can talk in more detail about…”  She stopped when she noticed her patient trembling.  “…Tam?”

Tam clamped her hand over her eyes as she turned away.  “I-I…I j-just…I never thought…”  Electrified tears ran down her face.  “…Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Jian said with a nod.  “Would you like some privacy?  Some time to prepare?”

Tam quickly wiped her face, static lingering on her cheek to tug at her hair.  “No, no.  Uh, when can we get started?”

“Follow me.”

[mykneeshurt]

Interrogation - Keegan P Russ x F!reader x Ghost

As per usual, minimal plot, all porn. Not written well just pure horny thoughts. Thank you once again to @sashadiurnal who helped me with the plot, that I butchered as I’m unable to keep on the straight and narrow. Tee hee

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, praise kink, degradation, p in v, p in a, DP, f oral receiving, m oral receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, breath play (goes without saying this is fiction, in real life we wrap willies, love consent, love safe words and aftercare!)

‘Get your fuckin hands off me!’ You spat as you were thrown down into a chair. Your vision was obscured by a foul smelling bag, no doubt used on countless others. Your hands were cuffed in front you, the cold sting of the metal bit into your wrists.

The bag was ripped from your head as a blinding light filled your field of vision. Hissing you held your hands to your eyes, trying to ease yourself into the white light of the room. Lowering your hands two figures slowly came into focus. Once you recognised them a fire was set alight in your core. Sergeant Keegan P Russ and the Lieutenant known only as Ghost.

‘Long time no see boys. It’s a pleasure as always’ you sneered. You were sat on a metal chair in what looked like a small office. You didn’t know every nook and cranny of your base, so assumed it was in one of the wings you didn’t normally frequent.

They stood in front of you, Keegan with his hands on his hips, dressed head to toe in white camouflage. Ghost dressed in the same but with a black balaclava where a white skull adorned the front. He had his arms crossed, biceps bulging as he took in your form. You’d managed to avoid them for a decent amount of time, but looks like your time had finally run out.

‘Where’s the launch codes for the missiles’ Keegan asked, his hands tensed over his hips. ‘What launch codes?’ You smirked, shrugging your shoulders. ‘Don’t fuck about. That launch codes. Where are they?’ Ghost asked, his voice filled with frustration. ‘Aww big bad Ghosts couldn’t get through my security system?’ You pouted, trying to give your best doe eyed glare. ‘Ask me nicely, maybe I’ll give em to you.’

Keegan walked around the table, menacingly. Hands still firmly resting on his hips, they swayed as he made his way over to you. ‘No, you’ll give them to us, we can be very persuasive.’ You raised an eyebrow, biting your lip, ‘you know it’s not torture if I like it Russ.’ His eyes narrowed at your remark as he lowered his face dangerously close to yours, ‘give us the fuckin codes Vesper.’

‘Make me Russ’ you whispered, a smirk tugging on the corner of your lips.

Grabbing your shoulders he lifted your body and threw you into the wall in one swift motion. Your body hit the wall with a thud, a low moan escaped your chest. Keegan stood you up and pressed his forearm onto your throat. His azure eyes cut into you as you bit your cheek. He pressed harder into your throat. ‘Fuck, don’t tempt me with a good time Russ’ you managed to choke out.

‘Tryin my patience’ Ghost barked from the background. Pulling your eyes from Keegans you locked onto Ghost, clenching your thighs together at the pool of arousal that gathered in your panties. Ghost dropped his eyes, noticing the minuscule movement. His eyes widened in realisation ‘shes fucking gettin off of this.’ Smiling at his revelation you once again met Keegans stare. ‘I think someone’s feeling left out Russ. You might need to share.’

Pulling you taught against his body he moved you over to the table, slamming your torso down onto the cold surface. Your cuffed hands barely broke your fall. Keegan laced his fingers through your hair pulling your neck until you rest against him. ‘Wanna play that game? Fine. Guess I’ll fuck it out of you instead’ he growled into your ear. A devilish giggle dripped from your lips as you pushed your ass into him.

Keegan motioned to Ghost to come over, the 6’4 Adonis stalked his way over to the table. Keegan lifted you by the collar of your shirt and pushed you into Ghost. Pulling your cuffs he placed your arms over his neck, forcing you onto your toes. Ghosts heavy, dead eyes bore into yours as your breathing picked up a notch.

Keegan wrapped his hands around your waist and found your belt, pulling it out of the belt loops with a ‘thwack.’ Undoing your button he slowly worked your trousers down, resting just beneath the crease of your ass. Keegan lowered his mouth to your ear, nipping it slightly ‘eyes on Ghost, don’t look away.’ Your thighs clenched again.

Keegan caressed the supple skin underneath your panties, considering how much he hated you, it was a tender touch. The slap of leather on leather filled the room, excitement shone in your eyes. Ghost pulled you closer to him and held your hips, arching your back.

A heavy slap rang out in the small office, as Keegan swatted your ass cheeks with your belt. A breathy moan fell from your mouth as you fought to keep your eyes on Ghost. Three more slaps to your ass made you dance the dangerously thin line between pain and pleasure. A crimson line decorated your cheeks, Keegan massaged it softly ‘that’s it, fuckin take it.’

Your eyebrows furrowed together, your pussy now weeping with arousal. ‘Not gonna kiss me?’ You whispered to Ghost, ‘not very hospitable of you.’ Ghost trailed his hand up your back, as Keegan pulled your panties down. Gripping your hair Ghost pulled your head, allowing him access to your neck. He planted masked kisses along your skin, and onto your jaw.

You flinched at the sudden intrusion of Keegans fingers along your slit. He gathered your juices on his fingers before placing them in your mouth. You twirled your tongue around his fingers moaning at the taste of yourself. ‘Fuckin hell’ Ghost whispered into your neck. Keegan returned to his position behind you, this time inserting his middle and ring finger into your cunt. Pumping it slowly, before building a punishing pace. The wet sound of your pussy made their cocks stiffen.

Ghost pulled his mark up slightly finally giving in and kissing you. He tasted yourself on your lips, he groaned at the taste. Nipping your lip he pulled back, ‘she tastes so fuckin good’ he drawled. Keegan grunted in acknowledgement, too busy listening to the sound of your cunt around his fingers. You flopped your head into Ghosts chest, lost in the maze of pleasure, you moaned and writhed from the sensations.

Keegan readjusted his fingers, using his index and middle finger in your pussy. This time easing his ring finger into your tight ass hole. A slurred moan erupted from the pit of your chest. You rolled your hips back into his fingers, pleading for more. ‘Such a filthy little bitch’ Keegan scolded ‘so needy for our cocks aren’t you.’

‘Yes … fuck, yes’ you whimpered.

Removing his fingers he then lifted your aching arms from around Ghosts neck. He moved you back to the table lying you on your back. Ghost stood by your head, which was conveniently level with his throbbing cock. Keegan buried his face in your cunt, savouring your taste agains his tongue. Your eyes rolled the back of your head as Ghost tapped his cock on your lips. He was thick, your eyes momentarily widening at the girth. A dark chuckle exuded from him, he leant down and whispered against your lips ‘you’re gonna take my cock and you’re gonna fuckin choke on it.’

Opening your mouth he thrust his cock in your mouth, his girth filling you entirely. He was unforgiving. Relentless. He watched as your throat stretched for him, eyes watering and gagging around him. Pulling out he slapped your cheek, ‘that’s it, good girl, such a good little slut.’ You bucked your hips at his words, causing Keegan to release a guttural moan into your pussy.

Not being able to take anymore Keegan stood and pulled down his trousers, freeing his throbbing cock. He pumped himself as he watched Ghost abuse your throat, your body writhing, desperate for Keegan to fill you. He lined himself up before pushing his cock in, inch by inch. You moaned around Ghosts cock as Keegan filled your creamy cunt. Keegan struck your clit with the tips of his fingers, as he did Ghost pulled out allowing you to finally breath.

A borderline pornographic moan filled the room, your back arched off the table as you squeezed your eyes shut. Ghost slapped your face again, before ramming his cock once more into your tiny throat. He watched as his cock bulged in your throat, trying to accommodate his girth.

Keegans pace was brutal, he hitched your thighs around his slutty little waist as he thrust into you. ‘Feels so fuckin good, so fuckin good’ he was breathless ‘such a whore, taking this cock so well.’ The mixture of praise and degradation kept your head spinning. His fingertips assaulted your hips, surely causing bruises. The thought of him marking you only made you more wet. Keegan threw his head back, eyes rolling as your cunt clenched around him. ‘She’s so tight’ he whimpered.

Ghost pulled out, pushing you back to a standing position, this time hooking your arms over Keegans neck. Keegan lifted you from the table, your legs still wrapped around his waist. This time keegan leant into your lips, kissing you, chasing your tongue with his. Ghost came behind you, pressing body against yours, sandwiching you between them.

Keegan still thrusted into your abused cunt as Ghost lined himself up to take your ass. He leant down placing a kiss on your cheek before spitting onto your tight hole. He pushed in slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Keegan inhaled your moan as Ghost stretched out your ass, the two of them began moving in tandem.

You dropped your head back onto Ghosts shoulder, completely blissed out at your holes being stretched, abused, assaulted. ‘Look at her’ Ghost marvelled, ‘taking two cocks at once, fucking whore.’

‘Don’t stop, fuck don’t stop, please’ you begged. Ghost snakes a hand around your neck, squeezing it until your face went red.

You felt the pressure building, rapidly. ‘Make me cum, please, fuck I wanna cum’ you sobbed, your body was overstimulated but begging for release. Keegan pulled you back to his lips, nipping your them as he kissed you. ‘Gonna cum in this tight ass of yours’ Ghost grunted from behind you.

‘Please, please, please’ you babbled into Keegans neck.

Ghost gripped your hips like a vice as he came, a deep breathless moan danced over your shoulder. He pulled out leaving you feeling suddenly very empty. Keegan placed you back on the table, picking up his pace, slapping your clit once more. ‘Take it Keegan, please’ you whimpered, bucking your hips and arching your back. He leant forward placing his forearms either side of your head. He stared into your eyes as he came moments later, his cock shooting hot ribbons of cum into your cunt.

You came not long after, the coil finally snapping. Beads of sweat coated your forehead and you tried to catch your breath. You could feel his cum leaking out of your pussy, part of you wanted him to fuck it back in. Keegan placed a kiss to your cheek, ‘codes.’

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Kinktober: Day 4-Breath play

warnings: missionary | Dirty talk | breath play | a touch of praise and degradtion

wc: 964

a/n: I’m getting better at this I think. This is kind of inspired by my boyfriend like most of them are. Not beta read let me know if someone wants to be my beta reader, I'd love the help. Enjoy! And Let me know what you guys think. No character again so use your imagination, I'm taking character request as of now ;)

You’re finishing up your makeup on the bed when he comes in. You're dressed in a tight short club dress and black pumps, ready to go out with your friends for the night. 

“Hey,princess, where you going?,” your boyfriend asked as you finished up the wing of your eyeliner. 

“Just going out with my friends”, you say standing up and putting things away. After a few minutes you notice the silence coming from your boyfriend. You turn around only to find him staring at you with a lust filled look in his eyes. 

You giggle softly at his gaze,”why are you looking at me like that?”

“You look fucking delicous,” He says walking toward you and giving you a deep kiss. His arm curls around your waist and one hand cups your jaw as he kisses you. “I just want to eat you up babygirl.’

You let out a happy sigh leaning into him as his hands roam your body, giving you a nice squeeze here and there. “Thank you” 

“Your welcome baby, there's a problem though”, he says seriously as you look up at him in question. “You can't wear this”

“What? Why not?” you ask in alarm, turning to go look in the mirror.

He grabs your arm as you walk away, pulling you close to him as he lets out a short laugh. “You can't be looking this good and no expect me to want a taste”

He pushes you back against the bed as his lips attack the surface of your skin. You open your mouth to protest because you have to leave, but instead a soft moan comes out. He continues down the side of your neck sucking, kissing and biting lightly. 

“Please,” you moan, wanting more from him. You can feel his cock touching your bare thigh and it's making you need him.

“Shh babygirl, I’ve got you.” He whispers into your ear. He grips your hips tight and pulls you closer to him, him in between your legs your chest flush against his as he kisses you. 

“ please.” You gasped out again,body arching as he licks down the middle of the cleavage showing in your dress. He pulls the straps down to get a taste on your tits. He takes your tits into his mouth sucking on the nipple. Rolling the nipple in his mouth with his tongue.

“You want my cock baby,” he asks as he rubs his hands down your body cupping your tights and touching your dripping wet pussy. 

You nod as you get lost in the feeling of his hands.He shakes his head and brings his finger to your lips opening them. 

“Use your words sweetheart,” he says, rubbing a finger over your lips. 

“Yes sir please,” you whimper, opening your legs for him. 

“That’s a good girl.” He looks at your spread legs waiting for him. 

He slowly ran one hand up your leg, starting at the ankle and pushing your dress up to the hips. He repeats this with his other hand, then slowly brings both hands up your body, over your stomach,until they both end up around your neck. He closes both hands around your neck, squeezing lightly. Not too tightly, yet. You gasp and bring your hands up to hold his wrist grounding yourself in the moment, in the feeling of it. 

He kisses you hard, biting your lip; getting a little rough with you. You grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer, but as soon as your hands touched him, they were gone. Your man held both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed over your head.

“Don’t move unless I say you can. Keep them there for me so I can ruin my pretty baby. Understand me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Look at you, all laid out for me. I can do whatever I please with you. Look how wet you are for me babygirl, you’re practically dripping, making a mess.” 

“Please.” you moaned you couldn't take it anymore you needed him now and deep. 

“Shh, just relax, I know what you need.” His hand closed around your throat again, this time much harder. His other hand grabbed your hip, pressing them firm against the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you, and show you what will happen everytime  when you look as good as you do right now .” He says groaning as he slips in, one hand pressing your hips into the bed, the other tight around your throat.

You knew you werent gonna last long after him taking all so long to get inside you. You could feel your orgasm approaching, but could also see black spots starting to dance around your vision.  A small broken whimper escaped as you came, you could feel his pace becoming ruthless as he kept fucking into you. He leaned down and kissed you, gasping into your mouth when he came.

He laid down next to you as you both came down from the high of being with each other. Suddenly you sit up with a gasp, and smack your boyfriend's chest lightly. “You made me late.”

He smirks curling a hand around your waist,”I know, that was the point. Now you can stay with me. Just call them and cancel” 

You cuddle up close to him, smiling a little, “you're lucky I love you.” 

[sacredsorceress]

Who’s She? || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x doctor!reader

summary: when sam gets injured during a mission and isn’t able to go to a hospital, bucky brings him and natasha to his own home to get cared for by his girlfriend, y/n, who he’s been keeping a secret.

a/n: this is my first time writing for bucky! reblogs and replies are super appreciated! also here i'm going to pretend that bucky didn’t get snapped so you started dating during the blip and natasha didn’t die

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of blood, sam getting shot, fluff

masterlist || request

“Shit.”

He followed the sound of the gunshot to another open room within the warehouse. He watched as the group they had been fighting fled the building, hopping into their trucks and speeding away before he even had the chance to process what was happening in front of him never mind go after them. When the group dispersed out of the room he finally saw what all the commotion had been about- Sam was lying on the floor with Natasha kneeling above him at his side.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, jogging towards where the two of them were in the center of the large, open room.

Natasha looked up, her hands feeling around Sam’s shoulder, blood coating her hands.

“There’s no exit wound.” She told him finally, standing up. “We have to get him out of here.”

Bucky watched as Sam groaned, still lying on the ground, with his hand putting pressure on his shoulder.

“So, what?” Bucky asked her. “We take him to a hospital?”

Nat shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to be here. If we take him to a hospital now... they’ll find out.” She turned back to Sam. “Feel good enough to walk?” She asked him.

“I don’t know.” Sam said. “How far are we going?”

Natasha shrugged, placing her fist underneath her chin, assessing the situation.

“Well,” She told him. “We can’t go to a hospital... but I could try my best in the back of the van.”

At that, Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows with a look of fear in his eyes as he turned to look between Natasha and Bucky.

“You’re joking right?” He grimaced. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

Watching the situation play out before him, Bucky swore to himself knowing what he was about to do and partly regretting the decision before he even made it. As much as Sam could piss him off, he knew better than to let him suffer under Nat attempting to stitch him up. He couldn’t let him go through that when there was a better way.

“Shit.” Bucky shook his head, reaching his hand out to Sam to pull him up. “Fine. I know somewhere we can go.”

Natasha and Sam looked at each other, quirking their eyebrows, questioning how Bucky of all people would know somewhere to go in a situation like this. Not in a position to argue, however, Sam took his hand, standing to his feet.

“So... where are we headed?”

It had been a half an hour long drive before Bucky finally pulled the car over to the side of the road outside of an apartment building. Natasha and Sam followed his lead as he walked inside, up the stairs and unlocked one of the doors with his set of keys. 

Hearing the key turning in the lock and commotion outside your apartment door, you spun around from your seat on the couch watching as you boyfriend, Bucky walked in the door of your shared apartment.

“You were gone for so long you almost had me wor-”

Before you could finish your sentence you watched as none other than Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff made their way through the door of your apartment. Although you had never been introduced, you recognized them immediately as members of the famous group of Avengers and coworkers of your boyfriend.

You sprung up from your seat immediately upon seeing these unfamiliar familiar faces. That’s when you noticed the blood coating the upper half of Sam’s suit and Natasha’s hands. Your eyes shot open wide, turning to face Bucky.

“James?” You said his name slowly.

“He got shot. There was nowhere else we could go, Y/n.” He told you. “You can fix it right?”

You made your way around the couch, rushing to Sam’s side and guiding him to sit on the cushions, continuing your conversation with Bucky all the while.

“I work in the maternity ward, Buck.” You reminded him.

Sam’s mouth dropped and Natasha, still standing in the doorway watched the conversation playing out between you and Bucky, still unsure of who you were.

Sam angled his neck to face Bucky from his seat on the couch. “You took me to a gynecologist?”

“She’s a doctor!” Bucky shouted at Sam, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“A maternity doctor!” Sam shouted back. “Do I look like-”

“If you don't want her help then-”

“Stop it!” You shouted, breaking up the useless, unnecessary conversation between the two men. They both went silent at the sound of your raised voice, turning back to face you. “Buck, go get my kit from the bathroom, okay?”

He quickly nodded, heading out of the room. As he did, you turned to Natasha who was still standing in the doorway.

“We need to get this suit off. I can’t work through it.”

She nodded, making her way across the living room, kneeling in front of Sam. Pulling a knife out of the holster at the side of her leg, she began slicing through the shoulder of his suit so that the two of you could take it off without raising his arms, affecting the wound.

When Bucky strolled back into the room, carrying your kit in his hands, Sam turned to him while Natasha continued to slice at his suit.

“So... how come she gets to call you ‘Buck’ and I can't?” He asked.

You smiled as you opened the kit, pulled gloves over your hands and set up your materials at your side. Slipping the jacket off of his shoulders, Bucky replied.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

A silence hung in the room for a moment as Natasha and Sam took their time to process the words that had just come out of Bucky’s mouth. It was almost impossible for them to comprehend that he had a life outside of the business they got into or that he could care for someone in such a way. The idea of someone like Bucky living out a domestic life in his free time was unbelievable.

“Wait your... but you...” Sam stumbled through his words, turning to look between you and the grumpy, 106 year-old man he had gotten to know over the past few years. Finally he broke into a smile, chuckling. “No way.”

You laughed, grabbing a seat from your dining table and pulling it up to Sam, plopping yourself down in it. Pulling your tray of materials towards him, you smiled. “Yes way. Good to know he’s mentioned me.”

You looked over your shoulder and winked at your boyfriend who was leaning against the wall behind you, his arms crossed.

“I’m just protecting you, doll.” He smirked. “You know that.”

Natasha tore off the last piece of the suit, stepping away from Sam, sinking herself into a nearby armchair.

“Gross.” She commented at the sound of the pet name Bucky held for you.

Laughing at her comment, you leaned forward, a cotton swab with numbing jelly in your hand. 

“I know, baby. I’m just messing with you.” You told your boyfriend before turning your attention back to Sam. When you noticed him eyeing you warily, you said. “You can trust me. I may work in the maternity ward, but I know what I’m doing.”

He then nodded and watched as you pressed the swab against his shoulder holding it in place. As you continued applying a light pressure, Sam finally took in your surroundings, now noticing the framed photos scattered along the walls and surfaces of you and Bucky, of Bucky and Steve from back in the day and of you and- who Sam assumed were- your friends. He didn’t know how he didn’t see all of them when he first came in, being able to realize that you and Bucky shared the space as a home.

“How did you even lock this down?” Sam asked, glancing up towards Bucky.

Natasha, kicking back in her seat laughed. “Rogers always said you were ‘quite the ladies’s man’ back in the good ol’ days, Barnes. Who knew you still had it in you?”

Rather than play into their game, Bucky rolled his eyes, sitting down on the coffee table, grumbling to himself.

Sam turned back towards you. “So what did it?”

You glanced at your wrist watch, pulling the swab off of Sam’s shoulder, tossing it to your side and instead picking up what Sam thought to have looked like a sort of tweezer as he watched.

“What do you mean?” You asked, a light smile playing on your lips.

You knew this conversation was making your boyfriend want to kick everyone out of your shared appointment and that the only thing stopping him was that you were currently taking a bullet out of one of their shoulders.

“Like what did it, you know?” Sam asked, laughing. “Was it the staring? It was the staring wasn't it? He stares all the god damn time. It pisses me right off.”

You grinned, continuing the conversation as you slipped the tweezer into Sam’s bullet wound, hoping to distract him. Once you pulled the bullet out successfully and dropped it onto the table besides you, you grabbed the materials to stitch the hole closed.

“He does stare a lot, doesn’t he?” You laughed. “You’re right though actually. I caught him staring at me at a bar and slipped him my number. I figured he was too nervous to ask for it. That was what? Two years ago now?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend.

"Yeah something like that." Bucky replied, nonchalantly.

He was trying to act casual in front of his friends. That night was two years and three months ago to the day and he knew it when you asked. Bucky Barnes wished he could forget about a lot of things in his extended lifetime, but until the day he dies he swore to himself he would never forget the night he met you. Seeing you sitting across the bar from him changed his life for the better and he never wanted that to end. So much so that little did you know that he had bought a ring for you six months ago with the help of his best friend and most trusted confidant, but until the right moment arises it continues to sit in his locked safe in your shared bedroom.

“God, man, I can’t believe you kept this a secret for that long!” Sam exclaimed before cringing as he watched you slip the needle into his skin. “And to think- I thought we were friends.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes. “We’re coworkers.”

“You know what? That hurt.” Sam shook his head, pausing, before turning back to Natasha. “You’re pretty quiet. This antique has had a secret girlfriend for two years and you’ve got nothing to say?”

At his comment, Natasha stopped staring at the pictures on the wall, instead turning back to the group.

“Two years huh?” She asked. “That means Rogers knew didn’t he?”

Suddenly Bucky was very interested in staring at his hands as a silence washed over the room. You knew Steve leaving to travel back to the past a few months ago was still a sensitive subject for your boyfriend. Despite the fact that the other Avengers- or former Avengers- knew nothing of your existence, you had met Steve more times than you could count and you knew how important his friendship was to Bucky.

“Uh... yeah.” Bucky answered finally, clearing his throat.

Saving your boyfriend from the awkward conversation surrounding a touchy subject, you finished the last of your stitches on Sam, leaning back in your seat,  pulling off your gloves and dropping the materials at your side.

“There!” You announced. “All done! Just try not to move that spot too much for the next few weeks, okay?”

“That’s easier said than done.” Sam said, smiling, glancing at his stitched up wound. “Not everyone just has a metal arm that can do the job for them.”

You laughed, maneuvering your way around the couch and into the kitchen to rinse the remainders of blood from your hands in the sink. As the warm water ran on top of your hands, you felt the unmistakable cold touch of vibranium wrap around your waist. As you scrubbed your hands in the sink, a hint of a smile gracing your face, you felt your boyfriend’s other hand tuck the piece of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear.

“Thanks for doing that. I know I put you in a weird spot.” He almost whispered, leaving a light kiss on your cheek.

You heard the sound of Sam laughing at something Natasha had just said in the other room and shrugged.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.” You said. “Honestly... I kind of liked it. Not that Sam was shot or anything obviously- that’s awful and it’s terrifying that if it were somewhere else he could’ve died- but it’s good to feel... I don’t know... needed like that.”

You turned off the faucet and the second you did, your boyfriend handed you the towel, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and stepping back to look at you.

“But you are needed?” He said, leaning on the countertop. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this or anything without you.”

You shrugged again, drying your hands.

“I know, Bucky. That’s not...” You sighed. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t know... it just kind of feels... cool.”

“Cool?” He asked, quirking his eyebrows and grinning at you while he said it.

You groaned.

“Yes! It made me feel cool!” You said, throwing the rag on the counter. “You guys are legitimate superheroes. All of you live like you’re in some action movie most days so yeah- it made me feel kind of cool to be included. Maybe you don’t notice it after all this time, but it felt exciting to me.”

He flashed you a smile, pushing himself off of the counter to rest his hands on your waist.

“So, you like heroes, huh?” He asked, clearly teasing you.

Although he was flirting by attempting to tease you for what you had just said, he admittedly felt his heart fill a bit more knowing that you thought of him as a hero.

You smiled, pulling on the dog tags that hung around his neck, teasing him right back.

“No, but I do like 106-year-old grumpy old men who have me stitch up their superhero friends.”

“I’m not grumpy.” He pouted.

“The first step is acceptance, babe.” You fake pouted, stepping back from his arms and lightly tapping him on the cheek. “Now go ask your superhero friends if they want anything to drink.”

Just as you finished your sentence you heard a shout from the other room.

“I’ll have a water if you don’t mind!”

At the sound of his voice you and Bucky turned towards each other, eyes wide.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Bucky called from the kitchen back to Sam who was sat in the living room, separated by a wall.

“Thin walls!” Sam called.

“I’d hate to be your neighbors!” Natasha added.

As tough as your boyfriend was, you watched as he became flustered, knowing the others had just heard him flirting with you in the kitchen. You laughed, patting him on the shoulder before grabbing two waters from the fridge and making your way back into the living room, handing one to each of your uninvited guests. Bucky followed behind you as you plopped yourself back down on the couch watching a conversation between Natasha, Bucky and Sam unfold.

While Bucky and Sam had a harmless argument about the mission they had just been on, you felt a soft pat on your arm and turned to see Nat facing you.

“About what you said in the kitchen-” She began.

Remembering what you had told Bucky in the kitchen minutes before about them being movie-like superheroes, you grew embarrassed.

“Oh God! I’m sorry. You really don’t have to mention it-” You said, cutting her off.

“No, seriously.” She told you. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have been able to fix him up like that. It was nice to have you there.”

As badly as you wanted to play it cool in front of her, you couldn’t help but smile. As embarrassing as you thought it was for them to hear everything you told your boyfriend in confidence, you meant every word you had said and it meant a lot for Natasha to acknowledge you in such a way.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” You smiled.

When you turned back in your seat, you noticed that the conversation between Sam and Bucky had ended and that they both were turned towards you and Natasha.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Y/n. I think I would have rather bled out then let her fix it.” Sam added and Natasha scoffed. “Hey, now that we know you exist we could use you! It’d be nice to have someone keep this robot in check.” He shrugged at your boyfriend.

Whether it was because he was genuinely enjoying himself or it was just because he was beside you, Bucky chuckled at Sam’s comment, stretching his arm over your shoulders as the two of you sat on the couch chatting with the two of them.

“I’d like that.” You laughed, leaning comfortably into your boyfriend. “Oh! Does that mean I can get a metal arm too-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, your boyfriend cut you off.

“Absolutely not.”