#just off the top of my head would be james giving jack the head start (fall from grace) and freeing elizabeth + crew (death) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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You Light The Spark In My Bonfire Heart

Kyle Rayner x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I HAVEN'T HAD ANY WIFI ALL DAY BUT NOW I DO AND this is my new obsession and pair and you can tear it from my cold dead hands. Enjoy! -Thorne

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Kyle had an easy morning routine: get up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, workout, shower, drink protein shake, and draw. It was simple and effective, and helped him maintain a sense of normalcy that he didn’t always have when he was up in space. He typically started out with sketching small things, mostly faces and limbs from memory, the occasional suit redesign, then he’d get into the bigger works, drawing comic panels and the commissions he had. And while Kyle loved to be up in space, to be a Green Lantern, drawing felt like coming home to him, like it was the natural state. That being said, he didn’t love being interrupted when he was in the middle of something important—it was bad for the groove.

***

As the second round of knocking sounded on his door, Kyle grunted and stood from his desk, padding through the hallway to his front door; he flicked the lock and pulled open the door, surprise etching across his face when he saw the eldest Wayne leaning against the door frame—rather cockily, Kyle added, because the soldier’s arm was propped on the frame, the other stuck in the side-pocket of his dark tactical bomber jacket.

“Good morning, Kyle,” he greeted with a smirk. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

The Lantern blinked, shaking his head. “Uh, no, you’re not, (Y/N).” he looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Had some business to take care of for my dad, and since I was in the area, I figured I’d drop by and see if you wanted to get some lunch with me.”

Kyle took a moment to lean out the doorway slightly, looking down the stretched hallway. “How’d you know where I live?”

“Please, a magician never reveals his secrets,” he deflected coolly, gazing at Kyle. “What do you say? Wanna get some lunch? I know a really good sports bar that serves great food.”

He looked back at (Y/N) and smiled. “Yeah. Let me go get dressed.”

The soldier merely winked in return and with fumbling hands, Kyle managed to shut the door before his cheeks burst into flames, hurrying back to his bedroom to pull together an outfit that would impress the man.

***

Kyle almost dropped to his knees when he saw the car parked outside his apartment building, and (Y/N) knew it too, because he chirped, “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

He nodded dumbly. “Is this a McLaren 720S?”

“Mhm.” He opened the doors and slid into the driver’s seat, looking through the passenger door. “Coming?”

“Am I ever,” Kyle breathed, climbing into the seat, immediately running his hands along the dashboard and seat. “I’m in love.”

“Wait till you hear her purr,” (Y/N) said, closing the doors, and pushing the ignition. The sports car roared to life and he grinned at the way Kyle’s face melted. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He put the car in drive and looked through the side mirror, then pulled out onto the street.

“Is this one of your dad’s cars?”

“Nah, I bought this for myself a couple months ago.” He pulled the sunglasses from his t-shirt and put them on. “This and an Audi TT.”

Kyle huffed a laugh. “Jesus, you billionaires live it up, don’t you?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Hey, I live life in the fast lane. Might as well drive in it too.” He pushed a button on the touch screen and music filtered through the speakers, and Kyle’s face pinched in confusion. “What?”

“This isn’t—James Blunt isn’t the music I figured you’d play.”

“What’d you think I’d be listening too? Rock?” he chuckled, turning the volume down a bit. “Don’t get me wrong, I listen to all kinds of rock music, but I figured you’d want something easy rather than head-bang your brains out rock.” (Y/N) stopped at a red light and glanced over. “You can look through the artists on my phone if you want.”

Kyle shook his head, relaxing into the seat as the melody flowed through him. “No, I like this artist.” The soldier merely smiled in return, pressing the gas pedal again, and Kyle suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of artist, I saw the canvas in your bedroom the other day. Do you draw?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Not like you. It’s more of a pastime than a lifestyle.”

“You’re good at it. You’re painting your family in their suits. Details and designs included.” The artist regarded him with impression. “That takes skill.”

“I’d like to think I just have a steady hand and a lot of patience for stressful tasks.” (Y/N) turned the wheel, coming up behind a line of cars. “It’s an easy way for me to relax and mentally run through past events.”

“Like what?” Kyle questioned curiously.

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, but not in a loathing way, more of a thoughtful one. “Missions, conversations, things I could’ve done differently, things I will do differently.” He shrugged again. “Painting for me is just a time when I think about everything and nothing.”

“Well, you’re great at it, (Y/N).”

He snorted. “It’s just a bunch of paintings of my family and friends and military shit.”

Kyle blinked and leaned over. “Wait, is that painting in the den—”

“The one of the F-18 Super Hornet?”

“Yeah. You painted that?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. I got Hal Jordan to take me up in one a few years ago and decided to commemorate the trip.”

“Wow,” the Lantern breathed. “I stared at that canvas for at least an hour the first time I saw it. I was just so blown away by how amazing it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And to find out, you drew it and not some world-famous painter.”

“Hey, I could be world famous if I wanted.” (Y/N) shot back, turning onto a less busy backstreet. “I just choose to retain my talents for family and friends.”

“Because of your job?”

“That too.” He agreed. “My squad and I take careful precautions to avoid our faces being seen during any missions for the safety of our families.” His face turned as solemn as his voice. “We do what we do to make the world safer. To keep our families and friends safe. It’s imperative that we’re not seen.”

Kyle cocked a brow. “But you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?”

“I am,” he nodded. “But I’m not as…out as the rest of my siblings. You’d be able to recognize them from press photos, but me not so much.” (Y/N) pulled into a parking spot outside the bar. “People only recognize me when they see the name on the credit cards. And I prefer to keep it that way.” A goofy smile crossed his lips. “The high life isn’t for me.”

“Says the man that drives a 710 horsepower sports car.” Kyle shot back with a grin of his own and (Y/N) stuck his tongue out as he turned the car off and opened the doors.

“Okay, I’m not actively in the high life but that doesn’t mean I don’t like luxury.” He closed the car doors and opened the front door to the bar for Kyle. “After you.”

“Thank you.” He replied, and walked inside, only stopping to turn and ask, “Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?”

(Y/N) tipped his head to the side. “I’m down with both, but I like the bar more.”

“Bar it is,” Kyle said and slid into one of the chairs, (Y/N) the other, and an older man wandered over.

“Well, I’ll be damned, is that (Y/N) Wayne I see?”

He turned, expression morphing into joy as he reached out and shook the older man’s hand. “Jack, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you son. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know me, sir. Nothin’ changing but the weather.”

Jack snorted. “And the desert where you dig sand outta your ass.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Damn straight.” He looked at Kyle. “Kyle, I’d like you to meet Jack Dagher. He’s an old CO of mine.”

Kyle shook the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“It’s all mine,” Jack replied. “It’s been a while since (Y/N) brought anybody here.”

At that, Kyle turned to the soldier who was busy looking anywhere but his face. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. Sonovabitch doesn’t bring his dates here unless he really likes ‘em.”

(Y/N) coughed, glaring at the man. “Alright, we get it. Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders?”

Jack gave him a smug look in return. “What can I get you boys to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Kyle said, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“No shit, kid. What kind?”

(Y/N) snickered as Kyle flushed. “Uh, a Heineken.”

Jack sighed. “And he had such potential. (Y/N)?”

“Gimme a strawberry daiquiri then water after.”

“Still ordering fruity drinks, huh?”

“Hey, they get you drunk faster than horse piss does, you old fart.” He shot back and the old man chuckled.

“Touché.” He slapped the bar. “I’ll bring those to you with an order of chili fries.”

“Thanks Jack,” (Y/N) smiled, watching the man walk off before turning to Kyle who was watching one of the baseball games. “You like sports?”

He tipped his head side to side. “I don’t not like them. I was never a sporty kid in school, but I like watching them.” He looked at the solider. “What were you like in school? Jock or prep?”

“Probably a bit of both,” he answered. “I played sports and had the highest grades.” Shrugging, he added, “And being a Wayne boosted me into the top tier of schools, so, there’s that. To be honest, I think all of us Wayne kids were and are a mixture of every stereotypical category.”

“I can see that,” Kyle laughed. “Especially with Jason and Dick.”

“Shit, I was talking about Timmy.” (Y/N) said. “That kid’s a grade A nerd.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

The two of them laughed and a woman placed their drinks in front of them, both giving their thanks as they took sips.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”

“My muscles are one hundred percent real. Especially my abs. Which you’re allowed to feel on in envy if you want.”

Kyle snorted into his beer, wiping his mouth. “No!” a few more chuckles passed his lips as he wiped the bar. “Are you…you know…?”

“A Leo?” (Y/N) offered with a smile, but his eyes told Kyle he knew exactly what the Lantern was asking, and he said, “I like the liquor, but I don’t care what label it has on it.”

The other man smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“But if you want the technical term, I am pansexual.” He regarded Kyle a moment. “You?”

“Bisexual.”

His lips pulled in an impressed fashion. “Pretty fly for a bi guy.”

Kyle gaped at him for a moment, then shoved (Y/N) in the side as he buried his face in his arms and laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

“Ah thank you,” he grinned. “I get it from my old man.”

“You,” he cut himself off with a cackle. “do not get that from him.”

“Look, you know the big man in the suit. You don’t know the complete goober we live with,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling at the waitress who placed menus in front of them; he picked his up and flipped through it.

“What do you recommend?”

“Hmm…anything with bacon on it.” He showed the menu. “If you like salads, get the steak and blue cheese one, it’s fantastic. Or if you’re more into tacos, they’ve got these awesome shrimp carnitas with chili peppers.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as he looked the menu over. “What are you gonna get?”

“My usual. Tomahawk steak with garlic butter and mashed potatoes.” (Y/N) groaned and rested his head back. “I haven’t had a good steak in months, and I can just taste it already.”

“So, you’re a meat and potatoes kind of man?”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Unlike the cup noodle and Hawaiian roll man beside me.”

“Ouch. Hit me where it hurts.”

“C’mon Kyle, hit me with your best shot.”

“Better watch it, (Y/N),” he grinned. “You might be the next notch in my pencil case.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

***

“Holy crap,” Kyle breathed, hands resting lightly on his stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

(Y/N) moaned. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

“Done?” their waitress laughed. “You haven’t even finished your desserts yet!”

“Oh God, don’t make me,” the Lantern whined. “I’ll explode.” He looked over. “(Y/N), take one for the team.”

“Pass,” he replied. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds just looking at the rest of the cheesecake.”

The woman laughed. “I’ll wrap the leftovers for you boys.” She wandered off, leaving them alone, and a blaring ringtone filled the space between.

(Y/N) jumped a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I get this really quick?”

Kyle shook his head. “Go ahead.”

He slid his thumb along the bottom and rested the phone on the bar. “This is Wayne.”

Captain! Finally. I’ve been texting you all afternoon.

“I know,” he snorted. “I’ve been ignoring it.”

Yeah well, the longer you ignore me the slower it takes for the radar dish to get replaced.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) asked. “I thought you’d procured one.”

I did. Then the buyer told me I wasn’t registered for official military hardware.

He frowned. “That’s odd. You did contact Thomas, right?”

Yeah. Beady eyed looking motherfucker who serves on the George Washington, right?

“That’s him.” (Y/N) hummed. “Tell you what, I’ll call him later this evening and get it all sorted out, yeah?”

Sounds good. Hey, did you take that guy out yet? Your little brother won’t stop texting me about some twinkie you’re into.”

(Y/N) froze as he felt Kyle’s eyes drilling into the side of his head and he stuttered, “Uh, Nadeen, now’s not the best time.”

What do you mean best—oh…ohhhhhh. I, uh, I gotta go, Captain.

“Yep. Bye.” He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, refusing to meet Kyle’s eyes. “So…you catch the baseball game?”

“Which one of your brother’s thinks I’m a twink?” Kyle asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s Jason, isn’t it?” he grunted in his throat, deadpanning, “I can’t believe my best friend thinks I’m a twink.”

“It’s Dick, actually.” (Y/N) grinned, turning to face him and he reached over, pinching Kyle’s cheek. “It’s just ‘cause you’re so cute and perky.”

The Lantern merely glared at him, griping, “I’m not as strong as you, put I can punch pretty hard.”

“Ooo, those are fighting words,” he shot back with a smirk, letting Kyle go. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

“I feel like I’m talking to Hal.”

(Y/N) whined, all but collapsing onto Kyle who started snickering. “I’ve just been murdered.” He buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder. “Can’t believe I was just compared to Highball. The world must be coming to an end.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby. You’re not dying.”

“I am!” he turned his head, gazing at Kyle. “You’ll have to carry me to safety.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I did not say that.”

“You did, but in more words.”

“Alright, now I’m talking to Guy.”

“THAT’S SO MUCH WORSE!”

***

He leaned against the door frame as Kyle unlocked his front door and pushed it open, turning to look at him. “I had a lot of fun today, (Y/N).” he murmured. “Thanks.”

Winking, he replied, “I’m glad you did. I’d like to do it again soon if you want.”

Kyle nodded. “I’d like that.”

They stared at each other for a few moments and (Y/N) smiled, patting the door frame. “Well, I’d better be heading out. Have to get home in time for dinner.” He paused, giving the man a warm look. “Thanks for having lunch with me, Kyle.”

He’d not gotten two feet from the door when Kyle’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.” He turned and the Lantern leaned forward, pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Be careful on your way back.”

“I will,” he murmured, watching Kyle wave and disappear into his apartment, the door shutting behind him.

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siriusmydeer · 4 years

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james potter smut alphabet

james potter x fem!reader

a/n: that took from 9:45pm-12:pm then 7am-9:20am THAT TOOK SO LONG OMG

i’m sorry if it’s bad

warning: literally pure sex smut all that jazz

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

that man is the softest dom, literally the DEFINITION. he gives u so many kisses, he praises u, he will shower with you, wash your hair, gives u his clothes LITERALLY THE BEST.

“mhm jamie, too tired” you murmur. your body melting into the mattress as you speak, all worn down. “but, love.” he pushes your hair behind your ears, pulling you up. “gotta get you all nice and clean f’me.”

he pulls you up, his calloused hands gripping onto your thighs, bringing you into the bathroom. the shower already nice and warm ready for the both of you. he’s holding you under the warm water to the point where you might collapse if it wasn’t for his grip.

“you did good love, so so good all f’me.” he says sponging kisses on your forehead, both of his hands on your lower back holding you.

“i love you, my sweets.”

“you’re the only one f’me.”

you were so tired, so vulnerable just allowing james to take care of you because that’s all he wanted to do.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his biceps, simple. he does A LOT of quidditch training to get to his strength. he also takes pride in being able to just fuck you against the lockers from his strength. it also inflates his ego when he catches you staring at his biceps. or when he’s taking you underneath him your gripping his biceps like your life depended on it.

“james- fuck.” you moaned into his neck, his lips sucking dark hues into your collar bones and his left forearm resting right beside your head and his other gripping around your waist.

he started going slower, but deeper. he hit a new angle inside of you almost hitting your cervix. you let out a strangled moan gripping his bicep almost digging your nails into the flesh.

his head dipping out from beneath your neck to slot your plush reddened lips with his.

that man and you’re THIGHS. he’s a thigh man don’t tell me other wise. whether ur in your school skirt, jeans, leggings, underwear ;) his legs AND HANDS always divert to the soft plush skin of your thigh.

your ankles insticntly went to lock around james’ head, he had been in between your thighs for hours on end without a stop.

“james- i’m gonna cum.” you breathed out in a moan. his hands squeezing at the flesh on your thigh, they were reddened and begging to lightly bruise from him doing those similar actions for the last hour and a half.

“cum darling, cum for me.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

so, esentially speaking theres wizard potions to block out pregnancy. so he would be CUMMING INSIDE OF U. not nessesarily a breeding kink but he likes when your full and stuffed with his cum. he also loves to cum on your chest or thighs because he likes the contrast to your skin and he think it makes you so utterly pretty.

the wave of euphoria and stars dancing across your vision had almost come to an end as your boyfriends thrust got sloppy and rigid.

“pretty girl where do you want it, where do you want my cum?” he panted to you, close to his release.

“i want you to cum inside me jamie, please. fill me up.” you let out a small moan at his constant friction when you felt ropes of seed shoot into you, he rode out his orgasam then pulled out. you clenched around nothing as he came face to you cunt.

he pushed his fingers into you, a small moan leaving your mouth as you made eye contact with him.

“gotta keep you all nice and full, yeah?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

there’s nothing he would want more than a lap dance. you in you your lingerie you had just bought giving him a little show after one of a quidditch wins.

“mhm, sit f’me.” you whispered into his ear, placing him to hit at the end of his four poster bed.

“and what have you got going on darling? a suprise?” he said, leaning against his two hands watching you pry at your tie and slip it off.

slowly unbuttoning your school blouse, flinging it on the floor. he lets out a small groan at the sight of you almost naked in your skirt. you walk towards him shuffling onto his lap.

“you did win after all, and winners get rewards.” you said circling your hips onto his clothed cock .

“fuck... the things you do to me.” he groaned into your ear as you continued.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

i’m gonna be honest i don’t think that much when you first get together. i mean there’s been ladies he’s a marauder but he’s only ever wanted to you so i feel like he just gets to know your body really well and he sort of just has instincts. like during your first time there’s those little awkward moments but you both make it run all good and smoothly

“s’gonna hurt y/n.” he murmured to you, situating himself in between your legs as you lock your ankles behind his back.

“i know, but i want this. i want you. i need you inside me.” you whisper in desperation for him, needing to feel him.

“you ready?”

“mhm, please.”

he slowly started to slide into you, when you let out your first hiss of discomfort, he slotted his fingers between yours and slightly halted his movements.

“keep going jamie.” you encouraged

he slid his way into your cunt until he was fully in.

“move please, i need to feel you.” he did his first pulse, light movements when you let an involuntary moan escape the threshold of your lips.

“mhm- jamie, keep going.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

missionary bc he just wants to see your beautiful face, against the quidditch lockers so he can just hold you against them or doggy bc he likes to choke you or pull you up so he can see your back arch for him.

you heard the bang of metal as james took you against the quidditch lockers and you tried to muffle your moans against his lips.

“gotta- gotta be quiet love. wouldn’t want anyone to know what we’re doing in here.” he panted into you ear. he continued as he angled your leg higher, hitting you g-spot as he continued his pace.

“james fuck- so good. so fucking good.”

“you look so fucking beautiful like this y/n.”

“j-james i- i cant hold on much longer. s’too much.” you moaned and whimpered from the back of your throat.

“pretty girl cum for me.”

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

there’s 2 kinds of sex with james, giggly super soft lovie sex. not necessarily making jokes but just giggling because he just tickled your side my accident or accidentally bumping noses. or there’s big dom daddy james where it’s very PASSIONATE but he’s very dominate.

his hand ran down the depth of your curves, a little giggle bubbling through your throat. he looked at you with a cocked brow, repeating his action as his chin rested on your stomach a small smirk on his lips.

you giggled again, your hand running through his hair. you brought his face to your lips as your finger tips danced under his jaw.

he giggled at your actions as well, also seemingly ticklish under his neck.

“you’re so distracting james potter.” you groaned as he continued to pulse through you while giggling at you.

“i’m distractingly beautiful y/n y/l/n”

“quite insuffer- fuck!” you were caught off with a moan as his fingertips danced on your clit. stimulating you.

“hmmm darling, cat got your tongue?”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

so james has that thick mangle of tresses on his head, so i feel like he’s quite cleanly shaven, maybe just a bit of a stubble? but i feel like he would shave not only to make it more comfortable for him but for you seemingly easier and more comfortable.

i don’t think he would care if you were shaved or not, as long as you were comfortable your natural body hair is not stopping him from going down on your or having sex with you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

ROMANCE KING ILL SAY IT ONCE ILL SAY IT TWICE ILL SAY IT THREE TIMES IF HE COULD EVERYTIME HE WOULD SPREAD ROSE PETALS AND CANDLES AND LIGHT FIRE PLACES AND E V E R Y T H I N G. during the whole thing your hands would e interlocked with his, chests pressed against eachother, eye contact, soft touches, soft kisses and mumbles of praise like whew.

“jamie- what’s this?” you asked, your eyes scanning around the room with floating candles and rose petals on the floor.

“well i figured i’d make it special, i dunno.” he murmured shoving his hands in his pockets. you turned towards him with a grin your face.

you grasped his face between your palms lightly kissing his lips before speaking.

“a real sap you are potter, my sap.”

“correct, 10 points go y/h.”

“thanks professor potter.” you teased before leaning in to kiss his lips again.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

i feel like he would A LOT and you would catch him A LOT. somwtimes u aren’t always there but u know what is there, a picture of you and his hands and he makes due when he needs too. but normally he just goes to you because he would rather anyways but sometimes there are bigger priorities then his random hard ons.

“y/n- fuck me...” he moaned, his hand pumping his cock in one hand and the other gripping his bed post, knuckles turning a shade of white.

his only thought being the way you looked under him, on top of him, infront of him, you’re beautiful beautiful body. you were currently occupied helping mcgonagall with extra transfiguration while james was in need... of you.

you had finished early, waltzing into james’ room like normal except you were met with a familiar sight of james pumping his cock in his hand while his head was slightly leant back and his jaw was slack.

you cleared your throat, crossing your arms and a smirk on your lips with an eyebrow raise. “couldnt wait atleast an hour could you?” you teased, walking closer.

“well now that your here, could you lend a hand?”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

james has a daddy kink😐 literally that’s one of his most prominent kinks. i mean your his angel, his darling girl he would do anything for you i mean he just wants to make you happy. and i mean you calling him daddy while withering under him just makes him 😁

“daddy... please.” you begged him.

“ive been a good girl. i promise!” you were almost yelling at him, wanting him to understand.

“sweetheart we’re you a good girl when flirting with sirius?” his face got seemingly close to yours, asking you the question while raising one of his eyebrows.

“no daddy.” you said, embarassed. you had been waiting for james attention all night long but instead he was stuck all up in detention for a prank against snape.

and then when he finally arrived to the common room he barely spared you a word, so you did what you had to do to grab his attention and... it worked.

“so tell me baby, whyd you break the rules?”

“i just wanted your attention daddy! i just wanted you!”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

i think his fave would be the dorms in the bed. but the prefects bath is a very close second. and he surely doesn’t mind the common room or broom closets that are very open to public where you both could get caught in comprising positions.

you heard the slosh of the water beside you, as you moved your hips onto james’ submerged underneath the prefects bath water as u straddled him.

his hands came to steady your hips as your buried your head in his neck, and continuously grinding your cunt onto james’ dick.

“fuck angel... just like that.” he moaned while tightening his grip

“f-fuck jamie-“ you whimpered in his ear, clawing at his shoulders.

“you’re doing amazing pretty girl, keep doing- fuck- you feel so good around me.” he praised you while groaning.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

SO JAMES LOVES HAVING HIS HAIR PULLED IN BED; WHEN HES GOING DOWN ON YOU, IN MISSIONAIRY, WHEN YOUR RIDING HIM JUST ALL THE TIME SO WHEN U PLAY WITH THAT MANZ HAIR HE COULD THROW YOU OVER IN SECONDS AND GET U ON THAT BED.

“so fucking tired.” james muttered walking into the common room after a two hour detention with filch.

he saw your body displayed on the vermillion couch, very opening that his body could just rest on yours while you were in a conversation with remus and sirius.

he quietly sprawled his head on your lap, his arms arranging around your waist as he gor comfortable.

you mindlessly started caressing his hair, and pulling on the tuffs lovingly, that was until you felt a hard pressure pressing against your calf that you remembered james’ small dirty secret.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i don’t feel like he would be into hurting you? like slapping, knife kinks, seeing you hurt i don’t think he would find that arousing he would more just be concerned because he doesn’t like to see your hurting. i think he would still like spankings but i don’t think he would slap you in the face or anything.

“so y/n, d’you think you’d try it?” sirius asked you, while your eyes paid more attention on the potions text book infront of you.

“try what?” you muttered, clearly disinterested in the conversation.

“knives in bed.”

you brought your head up to look at him, cocking an eyebrow confused at his question.

“um, probably not. i don’t know that’s an odd question pads.” you muttered turning your attention back to your potions book.

“but wouldnt that like... hurt her?” you heard james say in a concerned and confused tone to sirius.

“could if you wanted too, but it’s more of the thrill.” sirius replied to james.

“no, i don’t think i want the ‘thrill’ m’good, thanks.” he agitatedly replied to sirius and looked at his own book.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

i feel like he would like both equally but he’s more of a giver at heart. it’s kind of whatever happens in the moment because when your thighs are wrapped around his head it’s like heaven but your pretty lips wrapped around his cock? also heaven.

your hands braced his thighs as your plunged your mouth deeper onto his girth, trying to take him all in while breathing for your knows.

“you take my cock so well pretty girl.” he praises to you, his hand in a makeshift pony tail holding your hair away from your face.

you went back to his tip, kissing and swirling your tongue around trying to catch your breath before pushing your mouth onto him keeping a fast past.

“i’m gonna cum-“ he groaned and his own release shooting ropes of cum down youve throat cut him off.

he slowly rid out his high as you continue to suck and then swirled your tongue around the tip and opening your mouth to show that you had swallowed his release.

“good girl.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like he changes pace a lot? sometimes it’s really fast, and deep but sometimes very slow and passionate and deep and loving. he’s a man of many talents and whatever the mood is he can keep that pace.

his hand had one firm grasp on your waist as he pounded you from behind and the other gripped the root of your hair.

“you gonna be a messy little girl?” he taunted you through gritted teeth

“y-yes.” you muttered through moans.

he had just lost a quidditch match to slytherin and you offered a solution.

something nice and rough.

and that’s exactly what the both of you wanted.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

i feel like they would happen from time to time but i feel like he would be more into proper sex because you are literally his only priority like getting you off is all he cares about so maybe there’s a quick a few times but definitely not all the time.

“shh if you’re not quiet someone’s going to walk walk by and hear.” james taunted you, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dug into his neck trying to hold back your moans.

“james- i- i cant s’too much, too much.” you said while biting your lip, unable to see much do you the darkness of the broom closet.

“well sweet girl that’s what happens when you get needy during school hm? is my pretty little slut gonna cum all over my cock while anyone could walk in?” he began to mock you.

“mhm- yes.” your lip becoming dry and chapped from all the incessant biting, “please can i cum?”

“go on, cum y/n.”

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

i feel as long as it wasn’t hurting you or it ended up with you or him like getting with other people he would try it?

“are you sure, m’scared i might hurt you.” james murmured while tying your hands up to the bed post.

“m’fine, promise.” you assured him, that night you were trying something new. both of you had previously talked about ties and bondage and you wanted to try it once to see if you’d both like it.

you pulled on the ropes a bit making sure they weren’t cutting off the circulation of your wrists.

“see? m’good jamie.”

“ok but if something happens tell me, i don’t want you to hold back because i might be enjoying it you’re not.”

“james i promise.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

that man happens to be a QUIDDITCH PRODIGY. HE IS A SEEKER. WHICH MEANS HE CAN LAST AWHILE. i believe that he would stop when you wanted to stop, like he could fuck you all night if he wanted too.

“one more darling, one more f’me.” his voice hoarse from the previous three rounds.

he wanted to know if you could go any more, ready to stop at any time.

“one more?” you said breathily to him.

“just one.”

“yes daddy, i want you, please.” you plead to your bespectacled boyfriend, you began clenching around nothing feeling empty again.

“mhm please, please i want you.”

“alright darling, no need to fret. m’right here.” he assured.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

i think he’s more like “why would you need those when you have me.” type of guy. like i don’t feel like he would have them even for punishments he would rather do it himself, even because he would feel closer to you like he’d rather fuck and tease you then silicone (bruh 😭)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like you would do more of the teasing because he would automatically become obdient to you. if he was teasing it wouldn’t be for long because he would fuck himself from watching you squirm and tease you.

his palm rested on the inside of your thigh, tracing little shapes as goosebumps rose onto your skin.

“nervous, darling?” he teased in your ear while you were trying to converse with peter about arithmancy homework during dinner at the great hall.

“james. stop. teasing.” you said through gritted teeth, your legs squirming at his fingers grazing your panties.

“but you’re so beautiful like this, about to make a mess during dinner? think that’s polite y/n?” he mocked you, he loved that he had that effect on you.

you turned towards his face that was almost touching the shell of your ear.

“if you keep doing this i won’t fuck you for a month.” you whispered, venom like words leaving your throat.

his sapphire eyes quickly widened as he moved his hand by the cap of your knee. you smirked as he was almost frantic by your words.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he wants the whole hogwarts castle to know that you’re his so he is loud. he groans, he moans, he dirty talks, he moans your name like he is EXTRA with it. sometimes you almost have to shush him but he’s not having any of that.

“james, hush! you’re going to get all the prefrecfs scrambling around the room if you’re to loud!” you said covering his mouth, feeling him smirk against your palm.

“but darling, that’s the whole point. don’t you want everyone to know who you belong to?” you flushed and pulled your hand away from his face.

“that’s what i thought love.”

“you know sirius will never let us live this down, bet he can hear from the common room.”

“then let’s give him a show, shall we?”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

cockwarming. if you’re being a brat that’s one of the ways he’s gonna punish you, while he’s working on a prank and his arm is just around your waist to make you stop squirming.

“if you’re going to be a brat angel, i’m gonna start treating you like one.” he murmured to your squirming figure as he tried to figure out a new prank on snape.

you were sat on top of his cock, clenching and squirming almost begging for him to touch you.

“jamie please i need you, please, please please.” you begged him, yet no avail. a determined look on his face as he was scribbling on the parchment.

he swatted your bum, you jolted a bit at the sudden friction of his hand and began to whine.

he looked at you, a dark look in his eyes which shut you up immediately because you knew what that look meant.

“hmm, so you can listen to the rules? good girl.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

that man is big and thick and he KNOWS HE IS. i’d say 8inches hard?

you rested your bum on to your calves before scooching up to this belt buckle as he was standing, holding a faux-ponytail of your hair between his calloused fingers.

“are you sure, y/n? you don’t have to if you don’t want too.” he looked down at you, puling your eyes to look in his sapphire ones.

“m’sure james.” you assured him, undoing the buckle and swiftly pulling down his boxers and uniform pants at the same time.

his shirt discarded on the floor earlier, his dick slapping his clenched stomach. he was already hard from your teasing and grinding earlier.

your eyes widened at his size, nervous how you would fit it all in your mouth.

“what’s wrong darling?” he started to get concerned at your frozen state.

“nothing.. y-your just, so big.” you said looking at his cock and hearing a chuckle in the backround.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i feel like it’s pretty high but it’s always depending on you, he would rather die than force you to do anything if you weren’t feeling it or just didn’t want too. so if you’re up for anything than so is he.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if it’s during the day i don’t think he would get that tired, but if it was during the night and he just finished aftercare i feel like you would lay on his chest if he hadn’t worked you hard enough and you guys would just talk about anthing. but if you guys did a lot of rounds and you were on the verge of slumber he would just kiss your hairline and praise you as you fell asleep.

“my good girl.” he said while kissing your forehead. “i love you so so much, you’re the only one for me.” his hand dragging against the arch of your back, the only thing seperating him from your skin was the shirt he put on you.

“my sweets, does everything for me. how could i have gotten so lucky.” he whispered on the shell of your ear.

“hmm, jamie been asking myself the same thing.” you murmured, sleep almost pulling you under but not enough for you to reply to him.

“goodnight james. i love you.”

“i love you more, my sweets.”

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mrs-march-ahs · 4 years

Note

what do u think would be the most risqué/dirty thing the evans would do/enjoy?

The Dirtiest Thing That The Evans Are Into

FIRST OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR 150 FOLLOWERS🥳😭 I’ve only been writing a month, I don’t deserve y’all🥰😌 I get so many amazing requests, I’m truely sorry that it takes me so so long to do them, I want to do all of your ideas justice! I promise I will do them all just please be patient with me🥺

I hope you enjoy this, I got definitely carried away lol

Tate

-Definitely be up for butt stuff

-You or him

-I think it would start as a finger up his booty while you suck his dick but I think eventually he would totally be up for you to put your little vibrator up him, or put a butt plug in his ass while he fucks you

-He would also be super up for mild exhibitionism

-Drive to the beach and have sex in the car

-He’d love 69

-He’d recommend porn to you

-The biggest punishment for him would be you sat, watching porn and masturbating, and him having to watch

-He’d be aching to touch you

Kit

Kyle

-I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, where Kit ties you up and plays with your boobs

-I’m not sure whether this would be your punishment or a treat for him but either works

-He tie you up and blindfold you and then kiss your boobs everywhere

-Leave loads of hickeys

-Suck your nipples until you can barely feel them, going back and forth

-Hand on one boob, mouth on the other, then swap, then swap again

-He’d get some ice cubes in his mouth and swirl them around so his tongue and lips are cold

-Then he’d put some nipple clamps on you (but only if you insisted that it’s okay, because he’s not particularly into harder stuff like this)

-He’d tug on it a little, and then pull it off, not realizing how intense this feels

-He’d feel bad and immediately put his ice cold mouth on them to soothe them

-Then he’d oil you up completely, head to toe

-Especially your boobs

-He’d fuck them, not quite sure how to do it, but he’d figure it out

-You’d willingly open your mouth to swallow but he’d prefer to cum on your boobs

-Then you’d go for a shower together

-Since you’re nice and clean, he’d suggest oiling you up again

-The cycle would anew

Franken Kyle

-Kyle would be most willing to mess around with the positions

-I think he’d be up for a blowie in the shower, but not much more adventurous places than that

-But that doesn’t in any way mean he’s boring

-You’d try a couple different positions in one session

-Maybe 69, whoever cums first loses

-Winner gets to go on top

-Loser has to wait until the winner cums

-Winner has to give the loser permission to cum before they do

-You’d watch porn together and masturbate together

-Maybe try to do whatever the couple in the video is doing, switching positions when they switch positions

-Into edging, he’d want you to slowly and sensually suck him off and keep stopping when he’s close, so that the session can last a long time

-He’d also want to eat your pussy while you do something else, like watch Netflix or sit on your phone

-Just so he can spend ages between your legs

-In return you’d sit and suck him off for an hour while he plays Fifa

Jimmy

-Sex with him would be weird and intense, because he wouldn’t know what ‘normal’ sex is meant to look like

-He’d go super rough and even after he cums, he’d keep going

-He’d grunt really loud and wouldn’t moan or swear, because he didn’t know that’s what you’re ‘meant’ to do

-He’d just completely relax and let any noises come out

-At the beginning of his recovery, when he got horny and didn’t fully understand what was happening, he’d just hump things

-If you cuddled and he got a boner he would grind against your ass until he came his pants

-You’d help him and straddle him occasionally and grind on him

-Then one day you show him how to jack off

-Bad mistake

-Suddenly he wants to do it anywhere

-In the middle of a restaurant he starts palming himself through his underwear and will not stop no matter how much you tell him it’s inappropriate

-So the next best thing you can do is take him to the bathroom and get on your knees for him

-The only problem being, as I mentioned before, he doesn’t realize how loud he is

-But because he’s like a puppy in his Franken state, he only understands behavior

-All he understands is that if he palms himself through his underwear in public: he gets a sucky

-So he does it all the time

-But you don’t complain

James

-I think one of his biggest fantasies would be anal

-I think he’d love how it felt

-He’d love it when you wear buttplugs, but he would never want to have anything up his own ass

-He also would love to tease you all day in public, and then get home and fuck you all night

-Even though he would pretend he doesn’t like it, he’d adore if you teased him all day

-Whisper dirty things in his ear, shake your ass for him, and then go to your caravan and act like you never did anything

-I think he’d want to fuck you outside in the field at night

-So it’s totally in public, but everybody is asleep in their tents so nobody notices

-He’d love to get drunk and have messy sex

-I think he’d love to spank you at least once

-If you were super into it, it would become a thing

-If you were naughty, he would spank you

-We also know he’s into food

-I think he’d like to lick chocolate or whipped cream off you

-You’d drizzle chocolate on his cock and then suck it all off

Kai

-What wouldn’t he be into?

-Exhibitionism definitely

- “Darling, one more dirty comment like that in my ear, and Daddy just might have to bend you over this table and punish you in front of everybody, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

- “Who said I don’t want that?”

-The only thing he wouldn’t be up for at all is a threesome

-He’d love it if you put a plug in or a remote control vibrator and went out to a fancy dinner with him

-For the duration of an hour, he’d be slowly turning the vibrator higher and higher, and then if you got too close or a little too loud, he’d turn it off completely

-Then after a few minutes for the high to settle down, he’d turn it on low again

-It’s also well established that he has a corruption kink

-So he’d love to tie you up and fuck you over and over again until you’re a complete dirty mess

-I want to say he’d put a vibrator in you and leave you there, but I don’t think he would want you to be overstimulated with a toy

-Only he can give you orgasms

-He’d only use a vibrator if he can stop it last minute and make you actually cum himself

-If he found out you masturbated without him, he’d be furious

-He’d throw you dildo/ vibrator away and punish you with chastity

-But after like three days, he’d get sick of it and he’d get you to suck his dick all the time

-You’d happily do it, but you’d get way too turned on from it, so you’d beg him to do something to you, so he would spank you or belt you

-He’s literally into anything

-As long as you remain sweet

-Super into rope and bondage

-I think the most intense thing he’d do, is share you

-He’d tie you up like a rope bunny and put a gag in your mouth, then leave you in the basement for a bit for you to just sit and wonder what’s going to happen to you

-He’d come downstairs with Samuels and Harrison

- “I want to teach the boys how to please a woman, I’m going to use you as my training dummy, I know you won’t mind”

-You’d be shocked and wriggle around but everything you did, even if it was bad, Kai would make it sound like it’s good

- “She’s shaking in anticipation”

-Samuels would fuck you and Kai would sit and watch closely, not caring about him, only caring about you

-He’d occasionally turn your head to look at Samuels not him

- “Kai is it okay if I cum in her?”

- “You want Samuels to fill your dirty pussy with his cum?”

- You’d try to scream but the gag would stop you, so you’d be left making loud intelligible noises and shake your head

-But Kai would twist it

- “She’s moaning, she’s practically begging you to fill her up”

-He might even encourage Harrison and Samuels to try double penetration on you

-You’d be hesitant but they’d do it and you’d be super into it, making Kai mad

-When they leave, he’d fuck you all night long, making sure you’re enjoying sex with him more than you did with them

- “Who can fuck this pussy better? Those clowns, or your Divine Ruler?”

-Again, it didn’t matter what you said with the gag in your mouth stopping you, so he’d hear what he wants to hear

- “That’s what I thought, slut”

-He’d belt or whip you afterwards and make you say thank you after every one

- “Thank you for using me, Divine Ruler”

- “I’m grateful to be your cum whore”

- “It’s an honor to be used by you”

-He’d make sure the next cult meeting you’re wearing something revealing, so that everybody knows he whipped you good

-Marking his territory

-( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

-also Kai likes piss

887 notes · View notes

quindolyn · 4 years

Text

Midnight Walks || James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 4363

Note: Dedicated to 🦎anon from @/randomoutsiders blog. Where I live it’s already 84℉ so this completely feasible but if you don’t live in hell and it's still cold and wintery outside just push it back a few months.

Warnings: Insecure reader, like 2 sexual comments because I’m filthy, talk of men being pigs and not keeping their hands to themselves, lots of fluff, modern muggle au, monkey bars, public nonsexual stripping,

Masterlist

Part 2

There were ants in your bones, there must’ve been. Either that or someone was trying to feather dust their way out of them. Your entire body itched with the urge to move, to run, to scream and jump in the middle of the street. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what drove this overwhelming desire, perhaps it was some sort of primal reason coded into your DNA, alternatively maybe it was the sitting at your computer all day. One could only attend so many online classes before they went insane, and a decent way into your second semester and still no sign of going back in person anytime before the next school year. You were like a purebred who desperately needed exercise. It would’ve been a simple enough fix if it wasn’t already 10:17, the sun having set four or so hours ago, even though you lived in a pretty nice area you didn’t feel comfortable going out. Men were disgusting, and going out this late alone meant risking life and limb because too many men thought it was okay to touch what wasn’t theirs. Fucking toddlers. So instead you were forced to open your windows in attempts to replicate the natural breeze and try to find another outlet for your energy. You tried. You really did. Jumping jacks, planks, the few yoga poses you could recall off the top of your head, dancing around your house to your favorite songs, but the music didn’t feel like it usually did, even it couldn’t soothe the itching in your bones. You were fucked, simply and truly. Too energetic without the proper outlet. After none of those things worked you sat down to attempt to get some of your weekend homework done, but somewhere between ionization energy and confidence intervals you found yourself picking at your nail polish instead of paying attention to your work. Groaning you threw your head down onto your desk, wincing as the pain from the impact spread through your skull. Closing your eyes you tried to imagine it, the cool night air in your face, blowing through your mangled tresses, the thud of your feet against the pavement of the sidewalk, the feeling of the grass at the park tickling your exposed skin as you stared up at the cloudy sky, looking for stars. You swore you could almost feel it all, almost pulled into bliss when you were yanked from your reprieve by the buzzing of your phone. Groaning, you pulled your head up, it wobbled on your neck, as though it was loose and needed to be tightened. Had you wanted to you couldn’t have stopped the smile that broke across your phone when you saw the notification on your lock screen, a text from James. Can I call you? Sure. You typed out waiting anxiously for your ringtone to blare through your room. Instead you were met with another brief buzz. One second, Sirius is being an idiot. Another smile, smaller than the last, bloomed across your face, Sirius was often an idiot. Picking up your phone you pressed it to your ear just in time to hear James greet you. “Hey baby.” Loving James was potentially one of the easiest things you’d ever done, if asked you would've said it would be easier to stop breathing before you stopped loving him. There was just so much to love and as his voice tickled your ear you remembered one of the things you so loved about him, the sound of his voice. With two simple words he was able to soothe you, if only a little bit. But still the ache to be outside lessened a little. “Hi Jamsie.” You crooned into the phone as you shut down your laptop coming to the conclusion you were going to get jack shit done tonight. You distantly heard Sirius in the background but couldn’t make out any words, “Pads says hi.” James conveyed. “Hi Siri!” You yelled into the phone, you waited until the bickering and laughing on their side of the phone quieted before continuing, “Whatcha callin’ about bub?” “Missed you is all, was wondering what you were doing?” “Nothing much, tried to get some homework done.” James chuckled knowing how distracted you could get if someone wasn’t there to help you stay on track, “How’d that go?” “Not well,” You grumbled, “S’not my fault either, can’t focus. I just need some fresh air, I need to go on a walk but I can’t.” Flinging your body onto your bed and landing on your back you pulled the phone from your ear, turning it onto speaker and setting it on your belly, liking the vibrations against your body as James spoke. It was almost like he was there with you. “I’m sorry darling,” James knew exactly what you were talking about. Unlike a lot of men he wasn’t afraid to broach topics like these, he would sit and kiss your head if some guy at the grocery store had been a prick and couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off of your ass, or if one of the boys in your class had made an objectifying comment. He’d listen to you lament and apologize, on behalf of all men, for the disgusting things you were forced to deal with. He had learned a lot since you started dating, he’d always been a feminist but before you hadn’t really understood what that meant. His mother and father always made sure he was aware of gender biases and he’d heard stories of women being assaulted, harassed, discriminated against and perhaps it made him a bad person but when it happened to you, when you told him about these things it was different, it was worse, he couldn’t control the rage that bubbled up inside of him. You were (Y/N) (L/N), you were his, you deserved to be treated like royalty. No one got to disrespect you. He felt the pang in his heart when he pictured you holed up in your house, like a caged animal, desperate to get out. “I know, and I love you.” You responded, knowing he hated how you had to be afraid and cautious all the time. “I love you too.” “What were you doing before you called?” You asked after a beat. “Watching a movie with mom and Sirius.” A twinge of guilt twisted in your stomach, “Oh, you should go back to them Jamsie, I don’t want to keep you from your family.” James stopped himself before he could tell you that they’d already finished the movie as an idea hit him like most of his ideas hit him, suddenly and fleetingly. Remus once compared them to a freight train. “Okay angel, talk to you later.” “Bye, Jamsie.” He hung up immediately as the last syllable left your lips causing a frown to tug downwards at those aforementioned lips. Sure, you felt a bit guilty that he’d bailed on his mom and Sirius for you but you couldn’t help feeling a little sad that he was so ready to get rid of you the second he had a chance. Feeling all too familiar insecurity simmer from under your sternum questions popped into your head one after another. Did he really want to be with you? Was this all because he just pitied you? Were you just a substitute for Lily? Did his heart still belong to her? What did he even see in you? You couldn’t help but feel like nothing compared to her, she’s Lily Evans. And you’re, well you’re just not. Time had slipped away from you, you hadn’t realised how much until you felt your phone buzz against your stomach and saw that almost 15 minutes had passed since James had hung up on you. You only briefly noted the time before your eyes flashed down to the banner displayed across your screen, another text. Look out your window. Lifting your torso, propping yourself up on your forearms and twisted your head to see James’ smiling face plastered against your window, a huge, beautiful grin, stretching across his face. You could feel a matching one fan out across your face as you skipped to the window, pulling it open relishing in the cool breeze that let itself into your room. “Hey there handsome.” You joked. “Hey beautiful.” “What are you doing outside my window?” You were befuddled, wasn’t he supposed to be watching some Quentin Tarantino or equally violent movies that he and Siri liked? “I was thinking we could go on a walk,” He explained unabashedly. “A walk?” You asked, a blush blossoming on your face, creeping its way down your neck. “You wanted to go on one, yeah?” “I love you.” Was all you said in response, he caught you as you threw yourself into his arms, the middle of your thighs biting into the sill of your window, but you didn’t care. How could you? All you could focus on was the way his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to him so he could bury his nose into your hair. “Love you too darling.” There was a part of you, an admittedly large part, that wanted to stay standing there forever but the cool evening air reminded you about how much you wanted that walk. Peeling yourself away from him you placed your chin on his pectoral, not considerably comfortable for either of you, but you were close to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Come in.” “I was waiting for you to ask.” He winked, slinging one leg over the windowsill giving him room to maneuver his rather large body through the small opening, but James had experience fitting his body into tiny things (namely your cunt). “Are your parents home?” “No, everyone’s gone for the night.” “Why didn’t you tell me baby, I would’ve come over and kept you company.” You felt heat creep back up your neck to your face, embarrassed by the answer. Though your insecurities could swallow you whole when you were alone, they seemed trivial when James was actually there, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. “Don’t want to be clingy.” The confession bringing even more heat to your cheeks. “Never, (Y/N), absolutely never. If anyone here is clingy it's me not you.” You corrected him, “You’re wonderful.” “So are you bub.” Reassuring you he brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “Now come on! Let’s get some shoes on you and we can go out.”

James was filling up an old water bottle he found in one of the cupboards in case either of you got thirsty when you entered the kitchen, shoes and socks in hand. Your boy smiled at you, twisting the cap of the water bottle on all of the way before setting it on the countertop and moving towards you. “Want me to put your shoes on for you?” “Yes please.” You nodded, grinning cheekily. His large hands found your waist, lifting you up and setting your bum onto the cool counter. Slipping the socks from your hand he knelt down to roll them over your feet, leaving a kiss on the inside of each of your ankles. “You wanna walk to anywhere in particular?” “The park?” You offered, handing him one of your tennis shoes which were a little beat up, but still a long way from needing to be replaced. “The one with the fountain?” “Do you know of any other parks within walking distance?” You snarked, swinging your legs, feeling the need to be outside return, faster and more powerful than before. “Guess not,” He grumbled, looking up at you with a playful smile so you would know he didn’t really take your sarcasm to heart. “Hey watch it!” He chuckled when you accidentally swung your leg a little too hard and knocked his left shoulder with your socked foot. “Sorry.” You apologized looking about as sorry as Sirius usually did when he was apologizing, which honestly wasn’t much. “There you go Cinderella.” He said, as he pat your thigh once he finished tying your laces, rising from his kneeling position. “You think you’re funny do you Potter?” “In fact I do (L/N).” He grinned, sliding you off the counter, onto your feet. “Shall we?” You offered your hand to him which he accepted like a true gentleman. “We shall.”

You were right, but then again, when were you ever wrong? Fresh air was exactly what you needed, the feeling of the wind in your hair, the twigs snapping beneath your weight, the solidness of the ground. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this alive. That was probably stupid but it was liberating to be out of your house, and on top of it it was nighttime too. You weren’t often able to be out this late because you usually didn’t have someone to go out with. You had almost forgotten how beautiful it was when there was no glass separating you from the moon and the stars. Despite the fact that his legs were far longer than yours James still had to speed walk to keep up with you. His heart swelled seeing you so happy and carefree as you strode unapologetically down the sidewalk. “Stop walking so fast.” He complained, finally matching your stride as he loosely looped his left arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible while still keeping the two of you moving forward. “Not my fault you’re a slowpoke.” You retaliated but nevertheless still resting your head on his broad shoulder. “It’s nice out isn’t it?” He pondered aloud. “It’s wonderful,” You agreed, closing your eyes and turning your face up towards the sky, trusting James to guide you safely down the sidewalk, “I’m sorry you had to ditch your mom and Siri to come be with me.” You apologized as another wave of guilt from earlier hit you. “I didn’t bubba, we’d already finished the movie when I called you.” “Really?” Your head perked up. “Mhm.” James hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me that?’ “Wanted to surprise you.” He explained and your heart soared, he really was indescribably sweet. “Well I was surprised.” “Good.” “What movie did you watch?” Wondering if your suspicions had been correct. “Forrest Gump.” He responded by popping his “p”. You laughed squeezing two of James’ fingers on the hand splayed across your stomach. “What?” “Nothin’, just thought you and Pads would’ve made your mom watch Reservoir Dogs or something.” “Come on, you know me and Padfoot (Y/N), nothin’ but a couple of softies the two of us.” “Yes, yes you are.” You responded completely seriously. “You were supposed to disagree, he whispered into your ear. “I cannot tell a lie.” “Hey!” He exclaimed in mock offense. “Come on I found the two fo you cuddling when I came over Wednesday, he was literally spooning you Jamsie. It was rather cute really.” James let you have the last word and the two of you were silent for a minute as you passed a house with a line of cars in front of it, stupid fucking people and their stupid fucking parties. You thought, thinking they’re more important than the rest of us, that it’s okay to throw a party during the middle of a pandemic. “There’s a pandemic going on people,” James muttered as you crossed in front of the driveway, as though he was reading your thoughts. You just nestled into him more. Once you cleared the super spreader house it was only a few feet before you turned the corner and your desired destination came into view causing a ginormous smile to practically crack your face in half. “Come on Jamie!” You giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street towards the park, not even looking both ways as you bolted across the street to the park. You’d always thought that parks and playgrounds and such looked a bit creepy after dark and while today was no exception you still didn’t think twice before bounding up the steps of the play structure. Laughing, you turned your face back up towards the sky as you reached down to slip your shoes and socks off, tossing them off the play structure onto the wood chips scattered across the ground. “You look beautiful up there.” You hadn’t noticed James approach you, but he was now standing at the foot of the play structure, looking up at you. “Come up here with me Jamie, please?” You pleaded, tugging on his arm. “How could I deny you anything?” “Simple,” You responded, “You can’t.” Pushing himself up onto the structure he tried to envelop you in his arms but you squirmed away, giggling. As you ran toward the slide at the opposite end of the playground he broke out into a run after you, purposefully keeping his strides short to give you the upper hand. Breaking out into a sprint as soon as your feet touched the ground you raced towards the open field, James hot on your heels. He chased you around the perimeter of the grassy clearing, the two of you yelling at each other and laughing until your lungs hurt when he finally caught you in his arms, trying to get you as close to him as possible. He loved the feeling of your body against his more than he loved life itself. Or even Sirius. “What should I do with you now that I’ve captured you?” He mused tauntingly, tightening his grip on you. “Well I know one thing you could do to me.” You murmured. “(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), get your mind out of the gutter Miss,” “Make me.” You teased, wiggling in his grasp. “I know what’ll fix your attitude.” James declared, adjusting his so his arms were around your waist instead of one there and one wrapped around your shoulders. “And what’s that?” “A nice February swim!” He roared jovially, hefting you over his shoulder as he bounded towards the fountain located on the east side of the park. “Jamie!” You shrieked as you bounced against him, “Slow down.” “Sorry Princess,” He huffed once you reached the fountain, he carefully lifted you off his shoulder and sat you down on the ledge of the water feature as he kneeled before you, hands pressing against your thighs. “Come on baby, go swimming with me?” “Course.” You smiled as you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it somewhere over Jamie’s shoulder. You didn’t bother watching where it landed, too enraptured with the gorgeous boy on his knees in front of you. “You look gorgeous (Y/N).” He murmured, taking it the sight of your bare stomach and chest clad in a lacy lavender bra. “I let you see mine, now get your shirt off Potter!” You commanded impatiently, you loved James all the time, but you especially loved James shirtless. “Okay, okay woman, calm down, I'm moving.” He playfully chastised shrugging off his jacket which you just now realised was his varsity jacket, his last name emblazoned across the back of it. When he caught you staring at him he teasingly played with the hem of his shirt, rolling it in the tips of his fingers until you lightly kicked his bent knee. He then discarded his pants, throwing them and his shirt somewhere to his right, carefully laying his jacket on a bench a few feet away he was left only in his boxers and you took this time to appreciate how his skin shown in the moonlight, his darker complexion brilliant in the darkness of the park. “You wanna keep your shorts on? He lilted, moving towards where you sat on the bench encircling the fountain. You nodded in response, not wanting to be so vulnerable in such a public space. “Okay baby sounds good.” James leaned in towards you pressing his lips to yours before he scooped you into his arms before stepping into the fountain, even though it was warm ish outside the water of the fountain hadn’t had enough time to truly heat up because the water that lapped at his midcalf almost had him feeling bad for what he did next. Which was dropping you into the freezing cold water, keeping you upright by his hold on your shoulders before you were able to ground yourself on the floor of the fountain. With water sprouting up from the top and cascading down 4 smaller tiers reminiscent of bird baths, getting larger and larger in radius as they went down, cold water nipped at your skin. “Agh!” You shrieked, “It’s freezing!” “Calm down drama queen!” James snorted, “Little cold water never hurt anybody.” “Speak for yourself!” Screaming as James bent down to splash you with water you tried to run away resulting in you falling backwards onto your bum. “You okay baby?” James asked nervously bending down next to you, surveying your near naked body for any cuts or bruises. Your response came as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, submerging the entirety of his body in the chilly water. He quickly pulled you down with him so that your head was submerged, your hair billowing out around you in the water. When you pulled back up to the surface your wet hair was plastered to your face. And though you were cold, wet, and maybe a little banged up your heart was aflame, this had been exactly what you needed, to run around like a little kid and lose yourself, if only for a little while. Glancing back down your jaw dropped, the light coming from the fountain walls made the shadows of the water reflect on James’ dark skin making him look even more beautiful, like something out of a book. He took your temporary lapse as an opportunity to flip you around so that he was on top of you, he thought you were always stunning but something about you beneath him made you shine like nothing else he’d ever seen. Taking good care to make sure your head didn’t bump against the fountain, and that your head was above water, he trailed kisses from your temple to your jaw. When he reached your chin the second freight train of the night hit him head on and he stuck out his tongue licking from the point of your chin, up your lips, the bridge of your nose, and up your forehead until he reached your hair line where he left one more gentle kiss. “James Potter!” You shrieked, a giggling mess, “What the hell?” He lifted himself off you so he could once again scoop you into his arms, “Come on my little water nymph, let’s get you dry, don’t need you getting sick on me.” “Think you should’ve thought about that before you dunked me into the fountain in nothing but my bra and shorts.” You retaliated to which he only rolled his eyes, before shaking his head like a wet dog. “I swear to God Potter, you’re a Golden Retriever.” “Hmh?” He asked, stepping out of the fountain. “Playful, loyal, energetic, smart.” You explained, planting a kiss on his nose. “Shaking off to dry like a fucking dog.” “You love me.” He grinned, like the thought was just now hitting him, like you hadn’t said it already multiple times that night. “That I do Potter.” You agreed as he set you down on the bench where he had laid his jacket, taking care to slip your arms into it one at a time he pulled it close to your body to keep you warm before coming up behind you, tipping your head back so he could wring the excess water out of it, taking this as an opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat to which you hummed. Upon slipping on his previously discarded pants and shirt, an endeavor you watched very closely, not wanting to miss a second of how his muscles shifted underneath his smooth, taut skin, he sat down next to you. “It’s a beautiful night.” “That it is.” You agreed. The two of you sat there for a moment before James carefully stood up, “Where are you going Jamie? Too tired now, m’done playing.” “I know angel, come on, not gonna play, just get more comfortable.” He soothed, taking you by the hand and walking you over to a set of fairly new monkey bars. Picking you up from the bottom of your thighs he pushed you up and above his shoulders to sit on top of the monkey bars and you were reminded why it sometimes came in handy to be dating the captain of the football team. Swinging up next to you on the monkey bars he slid his arm around your shoulders, both of your legs meeting the edge of the cold metal at the bend of your knees, your bodies there down hanging off leaving the both of you on your backs staring up at the unusually starry night sky. “There’s Orion.” You lifted your arm to point out the constellation, “ Surprised we can see so many.” You marvelled. “It is rather pretty.” “‘Rather pretty’?” You gasped exasperated with the boy next to you, “It’s not just ‘rather pretty’, it's gorgeous!” You corrected with a huff, turning your visage back up towards the heavens. “Eh,” He shrugged, “I’ve seen better.” “I swear to God, James Fleamont Potter if you say ‘You’re prettier than any constellation’ I’m going to push you off these monkey bars.” A chuckle pushed its way past his lips as he brushed his lips along the part of your hair, “You know me too well don’t you (L/N).” “Yeah, I’ve got your number Mister.” James pulled out his phone to check the time, “Hey baby, it’s midnight.” He whispered in your ear, turning his phone screen so you could read the time. “Happy Saturday my darling boy.” “Happy Saturday Princess, let’s get you home.”

Note: I know in my initial ask on @/randomoutsiders you guys went home and more fluff ensued. Maybe a part two?

tagging: @randomoutsiders

#harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you

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rebeccccccaaa · 4 years

Text

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ①

______________________

ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ

(ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none in this chapter ;)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟸.𝟸ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs (sᴏʀʀʏ ɪᴛ’s ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ)

______________________

You stare at your work for what seems like hours before deciding to glance at the clock only to find it’s been 20 mins. This subject was never your strong suit but in order to earn your desired degree, you had to take this class. You’d been putting it off for some time but it’s just better to get it over with then struggle right before graduation. So here you are sitting and staring at the work that just doesn’t seem to make sense.

By the time your professor released the class for the day, you’d barely even lifted your pen from the table.

“Y/n, could I speak to you for a minute?” your professor said, “James, if you could stay as well.”

“What’s up, professor?” Bucky flashed a cheeky smile. The bastard has always been charming since you saw him and especially taking a couple classes with him too. A huge player too of course. I mean what’s a frat boy without getting laid after every party they throw.

“Lemme speak to you first,” he gestured to you, “how is the assignment going?”

You were a bit embarrassed to admit that you were struggling a lot especially in front of Bucky. He’s actually a pretty nice person but not really being a super social one yourself, he tends to intimidate you along with the rest of his friends more than you’d like to admit.

“Well if I’m being honest, I can’t seem to grasp onto the material. I’m really trying but I just can’t,” you practically whispered.

You didn’t want to but you took a quick glance at Bucky to see what he was probably thinking but thankfully he was on his phone; probably giving you as much privacy as he could.

“Well is there anything you like me to do to help in understanding the material? Maybe a tutor?”

“Yes, that would probably be beneficial,” you chuckled.

“Perfect, because James here is one the best students I’ve had,” ok kinda backhanded.

Bucky’s head shot up when he heard his name and quickly put his phone away averted his attention to the professor.

“Right James?”

“Hmm?”

“James here has a 97% in the class. He’s got the highest grade of all my classes,” the professor seemed like a proud father to him. Bucky merely just shook his head, getting really shy almost. Bucky, shy? Weird.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured.

“Nope, 100% true. Your teachers and I talk a lot about you. You’re very gifted, James,” James looked at you completely embarrassed. You stood with wide eyes because you didn’t think frat boys actually took their studies seriously. They’re usually up late with all the parties they throw every weekend and some of them are so indulged into their sports that they probably didn’t have time to get A’s in their classes.

“So what do you say, Y/n? Willing to let him tutor you?”

“I mean if he has time and wants to, I’d be very appreciative of it.”

“Yeah I guess I can,” he smiled.

“Thank you, and thank you too, Professor.”

“Looking forward to that assignment, Y/n. Now scram, kids.”

“Hey thanks for-”

“You can’t tell anyone that I'm tutoring you,” he cut you off, not in a mean way, just panicked.

“Oh ok.”

“I mean it. Look it was already hard getting into the frat house and now being head of house, it’ll be embarrassing if they found out I’m a nerd.”

“What’s so bad about being a nerd?”

“I don’t know. It’s like an unspoken rule I guess.”

“What a nerd,” you joked.

“Whatever,” he chuckled, “So your place or mine?”

“Huh?” you questioned.

“For tutoring? Do you want me to come over?”

“Oh I thought we would do that in the library or something,” you responded.

“I mean we can, I just didn’t know what time and the library closes pretty early.”

“You can come over. I’ll ask my roommate if it’s ok.”

“Ok, let me get your number so we can coordinate.”

“Ok, thanks again, Tom.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he smiled back.

+++

“Girl what are you getting yourself into?” your roommate, Natasha questioned.

“What do you mean?”

“Buck is gonna tutor you? I’m pretty sure he knows jack shit about what is going on in that class.” Right, no one knows he’s practically a genius.

“I don’t know. My professor said he could help me so I’m gonna give it a shot. He can’t stupider than me, especially with this subject.”

“Ok,” she mocked.

“But if he tries anything let me know,” she warned.

“Why would he try anything?” you asked, confused about the sudden subject change.

“Y/n, Bucky is a huge player. He’s hooked up with like more than half the girls in the sorority houses. Hell, even I hooked up with him.”

“Oh my god, what!”

“It was last year when I was in a house. I hated it so I moved out this year. Still friends with Wanda though. You’d like her.”

“Ok well I don’t think he will, I mean look at me.”

“What?”

You hesitated because you weren’t the most confident person. There was nothing wrong with you but there also wasn’t anything special. You were barely a social person let alone some who could easily pursue a relationship or even a hook up.

“I think you’re hot, but something tells me you think otherwise,” Nat said.

“I don’t wanna get into it but just know you won’t have to worry about anything happening.”

You texted Bucky that he could come over whenever he was available and about 30 mins later he was knocking on your door ready to help you with the assignment.

+++

Obviously nothing happened that night, or the night after, or the night after. Or the next four weeks after. Bucky was actually helping you understand the material a lot better. You were still a bit confused but not as much as before. During your sessions you were beginning to learn a lot more things about Bucky like how his childhood best friend Steve Rogers was also a member in the house; and also knows about his prodigy brain.

“How’s the tutoring going?” Steve asked walking into the kitchen where you and Bucky were doing work.

“Good I guess,” you responded.

“Well I’ll uh, leave you two be.”

He didn’t in fact leave but instead start gesturing quite aggressively to ask you more questions to get to know you better. See what you didn’t know was that Bucky had taken even more of a liking to you since starting your study sessions together. He never pursued anything because he didn’t want to scare you and definitely didn’t want you to think that he was taking advantage of the situation you guys were in; you know being your tutor and all.

Sure Bucky was kind of a player but the rumors of sleeping with another girl at every party every weekend wasn’t totally true. He hooked up with a couple girls but he wasn’t a sex addict. And he definitely didn’t leave them high and dry. He would usually meet up with the girls but they didn’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand.

He sort of gave up on finding a relationship and soon after altogether stopped having sex, especially at their parties the boys host every weekend. He definitely wasn’t waiting until marriage but he didn’t want to feel used anymore because that was seemingly the case after each ‘hook-up’ that happened.

When Bucky first saw you in class, he truly thought you the most beautiful girl ever. He quickly caught on to the fact that you were not a social person; you weren’t exactly shy but definitely didn’t initiate conversation. You always kept to yourself in the back of each classroom and quietly did your work. Bucky goddamn fell head over heels for you.

But you two never talked.

Every chance he got to initiate some sort of conversation was quickly taken away whether it’d be the end of class time where you’d briskly leave the classroom to attend your next lecture, or the boys in his house would meet up with him completely interfering with his window to talk to you. And it’s not like you ever went to any of the frat parties.

So he continued to chase you all the while having absolutely no idea one of the most well known and well liked frat boys at the university having this massive giant enormous fat crush on you. And to top it off, now that he’s certainly got all the time in the world to finally get to know you, he freezes up and can only seem to answer your questions… about school.

You didn’t take Bucky to be such an awkward guy. You definitely didn’t think with all the girls that are constantly after him and how charismatic he seemed he would actually be super quiet awkward after the initial ‘Hey, what’s up!’.

You grew a liking to him though because he wasn’t annoying. The majority of guys in the house were pretty loud and obnoxious whenever you got the chance to hear them usually while you were studying in Bucky’s room because again, no one really knew how much of a nerd he really was. But you never actually met the rest of the boys. You’d always managed to sneak out to avoid confrontation about why you're even there.

Speaking of loud and obnoxious frat boys.

“Hey hey hey!” they walked in.

Immediately you and Bucky grabbed all the papers and threw them in your backpack while Steve went out to hopefully stall the boys from coming into the kitchen like they always did after football practice.

As soon as the last paper went inside your bag, the boys walked past Steve into the kitchen to find you and Bucky standing there awkwardly.

“Who’s this?” Tony asked.

“This is a girl in my class, Y/n.”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“She’s tutoring me,” Bucky quickly lied. Ironically.

“Oh man, dude,” one of the boys laughed.

“Well we’ll be out of your hair. Good luck, Bucky and don’t annoy her.”

“We’ll be in my room studying you guys are fine,” Bucky grabbed your arm and took upstairs to his room.

“So they’re fine with you being tutored but not tutoring?” you asked in a mocking tone.

“It’s a weird rule but also a lot of the guys downstairs get tutored too. Like Vis, and Thor, oh Thor. Loki does too and Steve. But if I’m being honest, I do in fact think Bruce and Tony are science nerds. But Tony sleeps around enough to distract from it, not Bruce so much but he’s pretty quiet.”

“Ugh, boys.”

“Anyways, shall we continue?” he chuckled.

“I guess, yeah.”

After about an hour in his room, you ended up leaning out of studying and more into talking and getting to know each other; properly this time.

“And yeah, that’s how my sister’s pants exploded.”

“That’s hilarious.”

There was a moment of silence between you two before it got too awkward and you spoke out.

“I should probably get going.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“I can call a cab. It’s fi-”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, “I’ll drive you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

You told Bucky your address to your apartment and remained in silence during the majority of the car ride.

“You know I never striked you as a quiet person,” you broke the silence.

“What? I’m not a quiet person.”

“Yes you are. Everytime we have a study session it’s usually silent until I have to ask you a question about something.”

“Well, it’s not my intention to be so awkward around you.”

“Why are you?” you asked him.

“I don’t know,” then it got quiet again.

You arrived at your apartment and unclicked your seatbelt. You turned to Bucky to say goodbye and realized how close you two were. Admittedly you didn’t mind too much; what you didn’t expect was for Bucky to in fact kiss you. He grabbed your arm gently and pulled closer to him as his eyes closed, lips moving against yours slowly. You weren’t exactly mad but you weren’t also happy with this outcome.

Despite Bucky not hooking up with anyone for a long time now and being completely enamored by you, you still believe he was a ladies man because he hadn’t told you otherwise. You didn’t want to be another name added to the list of a frat boy’s one night stands. So you pulled away with slightly furrowed brows and Bucky realized he fucked up.

“Thanks again, Bucky,” you quickly got out of the car, not acknowledging him shouting your name before the car door closed. You ran up the steps to enter your apartment as fast as you can, still feeling the taste of him on your lips and tongue. God why did he have to do that?

Bucky sat in his car for a bit but decided to leave to not bother you and possibly fuck things up more than they already are. He’ll wait for you to come to him so he doesn’t seem invasive. Yeah that’s the plan.

But things don’t normally go to plan right?

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky #bucky fluff #frat!boy bucky barnes #collage!bucky #collage au

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loversandantiheroes · 4 years

Text

Hotel Hobbies - Part 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!Reader Author’s Note: This was not going to be a multi-chapter thing, but then people liked it and Whiskey wouldn’t shut the hell up so here we are, folks. I no longer know where this is going so strap the fuck in I guess. This is so long and I am so sorry. Edited for a cleanup 10/5/2020 Summary: A co-worker gives the Reader a little nudge, which backfires just a bit when Whiskey runs unexpectedly late. Warnings: Public sex, exhibitionism, angry sex, mild choking/breath play, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, spitting, spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (do as I say not as I fictionalize), creampies, come eating, vague allusions to Whiskey’s job and all the dangers contained therein, Whiskey is a service top and I do not take criticism, very brief mention of Whiskey’s past, exactly one (1) use of Spanish that I hope I didn’t fuck up too badly. Rating: Explicit / NSFW / 18+ / How much clearer can I make this? Word Count: 12k+ (oh GOD do not look at me I have no idea what happened) Previous: Prelude / Part 1 / Interlude Taglist: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @oloreaa @the-feckless-wonder @sarcasmisakindofmagic

The conference drags on into its fourth day in a parade of excessively bored people in suits and pencil skirts toting stale danishes and overpriced coffee; the only comforts provided to distract you from the mobius circle-jerk of tedious corporate bullshit. Most of the assembly hall does little more than nod blandly as yet another guest speaker goes through their presentation, the topic of which you forget at least six times throughout the course of it. Half of the attendees aren't even bothering to take notes anymore. The company could've filled the room with potted plants in cheap suits and gotten a better result. At least the plants would provide a little oxygen to the atmosphere.

It certainly doesn't help your case that half of your brain is circling endlessly around Whiskey. You scribble down a set of shorthand bullet points in your notes and try to blink away the image of his arms straining against taut ropes. You sip your coffee and remember the heat of his tongue chasing the taste of his namesake in your mouth. When you cross your legs and feel the deep, pleasant twinge between them, for a split second all you can think about is the way he felt sinking down into you with his teeth against your neck.

The time absolutely crawls by. There's moments when you half expect to look up at the old analog clock on the wall and see the hands start running backward. Of course this would be the day the presentations run long, wouldn't it? Restless and fidgety, you eventually give up on your notes completely and just resign your attention to the clock and whatever obscenity your brain wants to conjure up from the night before.

Claudia, one of your only work friends that actually opted to attend this fiasco, gives you increasingly amused looks throughout the morning, glancing up at you over her phone (on which, you can't help but notice, she has been playing Bejeweled for the past hour with the brightness turned down). After you check the clock for the fifth time in twenty minutes, unable to really keep yourself from sighing angrily through your nose, she shakes her head at you, laughing quietly.

"So what's his name?" she whispers, leaning over conspiratorially.

You give her a glare, but she only raises her eyebrows expectantly. Goddamn it, why does the entire universe find it so funny when you're irritated?

"Whiskey," you mutter back, glowering.

She has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop a snorting giggle from being loud enough to cause a disruption. "Oh my god," she sputters. "Are you fucking a biker?"

And okay, maybe that is a little funny. You shake your head, mutter back, "Cowboy."

Claudia grins so wide her shoulders pull up with it. "Save a horse," she whispers, trying to dodge out of the way when you elbow her to cut off the rest of the joke. Three people behind you simultaneously shush the two of you, and you toss a dirty look over your shoulder, settling back into your seat.

A few seconds go by before Claudia's leaning back over to quietly add, "The dick must be good to get you this distracted."

"Shut up," you shoot back, but you're already smiling.

When the presentation ends, the entire auditorium raising up on creaking knees to shuffle out to break for lunch, Claudia's hand clamps down on your arm.

"I'm buying lunch and you're going to tell me everything."

So you do. Parked in her conservative little hybrid over styrofoam boxes of take out, you tell her. Damn near everything, too. She listens with rapt attention, this not being the first time she's poked you for details of your love life, such as it is, but judging by the look on her face it's possibly taken the top spot as the most memorable.

"So you're gonna see him again," she says finally as you tell her about Whiskey's invitation before slipping out the door this morning.

You settle back, trying to make yourself look suitably apathetic before answering in the hopes of not being completely transparent. "I dunno. Maybe."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh please. You're gonna see him again. You've been spaced out with dickbrain all day, there's no way you're turning down that invitation."

You wave the end of your plastic fork threateningly. "I will stab you, I swear."

"Not with this many witnesses," she says with a wave at the horde of pedestrians outside on the sidewalk, blatantly ignoring the shanking motions you make in warning.

When she doesn't drop that annoying, knowing look, you start jabbing at your food, rolling a piece of cucumber around the styrofoam. "I mean...ok yeah I thought about it."

"All morning," Claudia provides.

"Fuck you," you counter lightly, and resist the urge to fling the chunk of cucumber at her. "I just...I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh my god, why not?" she cries, head thrown back in exasperation.

"Well it's not exactly fucking sensible, is it?"

"Honey if you were worried about being sensible you wouldn't have fucked a cowboy you picked up at a hotel bar," she says with a shake of her head.

"Did you miss the part where he tried to convince me he was James fucking Bond? I mean c'mon Claudia. That's gotta be...I dunno, some kinda red flag."

She scoffs, flapping a dismissive hand. "Oh please, when the bullshit's that obvious I don't even think it counts. It’s not like you bought it anyway. Besides, honesty is the backbone of a solid relationship, if you're just poking fun it's more like a bonus. As long as he's not married and not a serial killer, who gives a shit? You’re overthinking the shit outta this, hon.”

That’s...well that’s not wrong. It’s honestly irritating how not wrong that is.

When you don’t give a response save for the idle sounds of plastic scratching on your takeout box, Claudia groans. “God are you really gonna make me talk you into getting yourself laid? Okay, if you wanna be rational about it, fine, here's some rational thought for you." She pops out her thumb, ticking off digits as she lists. "He's hot. He likes to eat pussy. He's a fuckin' sub, which - holy shit, girl. Holy actual fucking shit. Plus he's packing and he actually knows what to do with it. Oh, and he bought you fuckin' breakfast!" She wiggles her fingers as she thrusts her hands out towards you. "Seven outta ten, babe! My god, if you don't fuck him I'll do it for you just so I don't have to eat another shitty continental breakfast."

You laugh, but there's a hot flush creeping up your face, and you have to stare out the window for a minute until it starts to wind back. It's almost successful, until you think of Whiskey again. This time, though, all you think of is him outlined in the door, looking back at you with his face too shaded to see. And then your cheeks flare hot again, not with that lingering sense of want, but with a flighty kind of panic.

And just like that you pin it down, your stomach twisting on itself as you finally put words to that moment of apprehension. Whiskey doesn't scare you. His lines don't scare you. The way he fucks you doesn't even scare you. But that moment that he lingered does. It scares you because you think maybe what was going through his head is the same thing that's been going through yours, a fine little thread looped around every remembered pleasure: the worry that you're about to develop a taste for something that you'll never have the chance to get again.

Maybe it's better to leave it. To chalk it up as a fluke and not risk finding out that he'd feel just as good the second time as he did the first. Cut it off now before that lingering taste turns into a full-blown craving.

Claudia sighs, closing her takeaway box. "Look, hon. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It just sounds to me like you're overthinking this. You don't need to be fucking sensible all the goddamn time. So what if you're thinking with your pussy right now? You had fun. He was fun. You have the option to have more fun. You are entitled to have some fun. So, hey: fuck sensibility and have some fucking fun."

You nod. It's reflex at first, but slowly becomes more deliberate. More sure. "Okay. Yeah. You're probably right."

"I am always right, thank-you-very-much," she corrects, and then promptly shrieks as you launch a slice of cucumber into her hair.

⁂

The trick of it all, you remind yourself that evening as you cross the hotel lobby for the elevator, is not to think about it. Because if you think about it, really think about it, you will find a way to talk yourself out it. Sensibility is as much of a hindrance as a help at times. But you've decided now: the absolute last thing you want to be tonight is sensible. You've been bored out of your mind all week, and as much as you're loathe to admit it, Whiskey has been the only bright spot in the whole affair. At least he's given you something to look forward to, even if it is just the prospect of getting railed until you forget your own name.

You take the time to change when you make it to your room. Grab yourself a short, but blisteringly hot shower, and conveniently forget your panties when you redress. Eventually you make your way down to the bar with your heart almost strangling you with the way it's seemingly lodged itself in your throat. Whiskey's nowhere to be seen, which isn't a complete surprise. He always seemed to turn up a little late in the evening before. Not wanting to deviate too far from your own habits, if only to make yourself a little easier to spot, you take your familiar place at the far end where you've been set up for so many nights in a row. You order your drink, make friends with the closest basket of pretzels, and you wait.

And wait...and wait.

Your eyes are half on the clock and half on the door, flicking back to that last at every sign of movement. Despite the fact that you're practically nursing your drink, the bartender refills your glass twice over the course of the night. When he offers a third, you shake your head. Your face feels like it's burning. The bartender nods and wanders away, either oblivious to the growing anger on your face or determined not to end up the recipient of it.

It's nearly midnight when you finally push yourself off the bar stool, throwing down enough bills to cover your tab and storming off. He stood you up. You cannot fucking believe it. What's worse is you feel like you should believe it. Should've expected it. As if a man that strutted around like a preening rooster and fed you a bullshit James Bond story would have a streak of honesty.

You punch the elevator button hard enough to make your hand tingle, pushing your way through the doors as they open and hitting the button for your floor. The walls of the elevator are mirrored, and you duck your head, not wanting to know what your face looks like just now, twisted up in anger and more than a little shame. The doors hang for a moment before sliding closed. At the last possible second a hand darts in, stopping them. Broad. Tanned. Tattooed. The man of the hour leans through the doors as they retreat, and gives you a grin.

"Room for one more?"

Your stomach does a back flip, blood rushing in so many directions you're not sure if you've got enough left to power a response. If this little scenario had played out even half an hour earlier, you might've laughed. Might've fallen back into that easy bitchy banter the two of you seemed so good at. Might've even kissed him. But not now. Now you've built up too much steam, and every little ounce of anger – earned or not – that you'd had percolating for this man since you first laid eyes on him bursts out of your mouth in two words, laced with as much venom as you can muster.

"Fuck you."

You can practically hear the record scratch in his head. The smile falls, eyebrows ratchet up so high you can't see them for the brim of his hat. It's satisfying in an awful sort of way. Like scratching an itch hard enough to draw blood. Too late to take it back now, though. You lash out at the elevator panel, punching the button marked CLOSE DOORS, and Whiskey side-steps neatly inside.

"All right," he says slowly. "That is not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

"Yeah, well tough shit, cowboy," you all but spit, raking a hand through your hair. You keep your eyes down. Forward. Anywhere but on him. It's hard, too many reflections. Even the distorted shape of his silhouette in the door makes your blood boil.

"I know I'm late," he starts, hands raised, and the low and placating tone of his voice hits you like lighter fluid on a match.

"You don't fucking say?"

His hands drop. "Can I at least explain myself?"

Laughing too loud and too sharp, you shrug, shoulders pulling up hard. "Yeah, sure, why not? Let me guess, rough day at Spy HQ? Assassination appointment run over? Or were you just hiding behind the fucking dieffenbachia to see how long I'd stick around before I came to my fucking senses?"

The shrill sound of your own voice almost makes you wince. You're overreacting. It's not like you're unaware of it. But you're pissed off, and worse now, you've committed to being pissed off. Backing down now is damn near impossible, never mind actually apologizing.

Whiskey takes a step forward, his eyes gone all puppy dog again; wide and imploring under twisted brows. "Look, I don't blame you for thinkin' the worst. I know I left you waitin', and I apologize for that -"

You roll your eyes, mouth twisting into a smile that shows too much teeth to be kind. "Christ, y'know what, don't flatter yourself. I like that bar. The pretzels are nice and they don't water down the liquor. I didn't show up for you."

"Oh horseshit," he snaps. He doesn't raise his voice, but there is a whip crack of impatience in it. "If you didn't want to see me tonight you wouldn't have turned up at all. You and I both know that."

Fuming, you jam your hand into your purse, fishing out his flask and tossing it at him hard enough that it hits him square in the chest. He catches it on the rebound.

"Here. You forgot this."

Whiskey turns it over in his hands, thumping the metal against his palm. "Right. I see," he says slowly, slipping the flask into his pocket. Under that thick drawl, there's a twinge of something that might be disappointment. "Just came to do the decent thing and return a man's property."

"Yes." Part of you sinks, screaming in frustration. But it's like you're a spectator now, just watching yourself sabotage the only thing that'd brought you a shred of joy all week just because your pride and temper won't allow any other option.

One hand falls to his hip, the other rubs idly across his mouth. He's scowling now, quite spectacularly at that, and for a second you think you've finally dealt enough of a blow to his pride to piss him off. Then he steps in close, jaw set. The way his eyes travel up and down you sends a flush through your body, and you're not sure if you want to slap him hard enough to knock the mustache off his face or kiss him until his lips bleed. His gaze lingers at your hip, your curves quite plainly displayed under the tight skirt. He reaches out. The back of his fingernails barely brush the fabric.

"Do you always make returns without any panties on?"

You try to swallow, but find your mouth has gone suddenly bone dry, your throat sticking with a sharp and painful click. "Fuck off," you try to tell him, but it comes out a croak.

"You know what I think?" Whiskey continues, and the tone would nearly be conversational if it weren't for the way he's looking at you, eyes perfectly black and hungry under the shade of his hat. "I don't think you're just mad because I'm late. I think you're mad because I can get a rise outta you. Part of you kinda likes it. Enough to wanna come back for a little more of it. And you don't know what to do about that. Bet you can't even decide if you wanna throttle me or ride me 'til you can't come anymore. Bit of both, maybe, huh?"

Oh fuck you very much, Mister Perceptive. "Christ, you and your fucking ego-"

"Oh to hell with my fucking ego, and yours too." He leans in close enough that you can smell aftershave and a fainter, acrid smell that, if you weren't so fucking preoccupied, you might recognize as spent gunpowder. "If you want me to go, just fuckin' say it. But don't bullshit a bullshitter. If you wanted rid of me that bad you would've tossed me out on my ass last night before I'd even finished coming."

Your jaw works, and you push yourself a little harder against the handrail just to keep from slapping him. How dare he-

How dare he what, exactly? Be right? Again?

You clench your jaw, gripping the handrail on the wall tight enough that the corners dig into your fingers. Glare at him like you're trying to light him on fire. He doesn't flinch.

"What you did last night...that made for a hell of a first impression," he says slowly, and the low rasp of his voice almost curls your toes. "One I don't expect I'm liable to forget this side of fuckin' doomsday. Shit, I don't even know your fucking name and I ain't been able to shake the thought of you all damn day. Now you can believe that or not, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But the only thing I'm asking from you right now is to be fucking straight with me. If you want me to go, you fucking tell me, and I'm gone. But if you want me to stay, honeybee I swear I will make up for every second you had to wait."

"Fuck you, Whiskey," you breathe. It's all you've got left, all you can even think to say, but it's too soft. It's too hard not to believe him when he's looking at you like that. Even if he's still got your teeth on edge, ready to bite, the fire in your belly is sinking lower every second. And there's no way to mistake the low rasp of your voice for anger.

He leans in, hovering barely an inch away from you, and tips your chin up with his knuckle. "That ain't an answer, honeybee."

His lip curls into a smirk and for a second all you can think about is running your tongue out to follow the curve of it.

"You can punish me if you like," he offers in a low, darkly sweet voice. The fingers on your chin trace a path along your jaw, up to your ear, and down the side of your neck as he talks; a three-point constellation drawn in goosebumps. "Lord knows I deserve it. Tie me up again. Ride my tongue until you've had your fill and never lay a finger on me. I don't mind a bit. I'll probably come in my fucking jeans like a goddamn high school virgin while you do it, too."

Oh god. It's too hot. It's too hot and he's too close and it feels like there's no air left. Those words took the last of it and left you with nothing. And then your lungs finally unlock, hitching in air so pitifully loud that for a second his eyes drop first to your mouth and then lower to watch the buttons strain on your blouse.

His tongue brushes up against the back of his bottom lip, a strange gesture, but one you can't drag your eyes away from. And the bastard just keeps talking.

"Then again, maybe the way you've been acting up you'd be more inclined for a little punishment yourself. I could take you upstairs. Turn you over my knee and put my hand to that pretty little ass until it blushes like a ripe summer peach. I'd bet you'd drip just as much and twice as sweet, too. I'd kill for a taste of you right now. Fuck, if you really want I could just hike that skirt up and fuck you right here and now. I am a flexible man and I am willing to take you any way you'd see fit to let me. But only if you let me. I ain't here to play bullshit games, and I will not take anything you don't want to give. So I need you to tell me, honeybee. Do you want this? Yes or no?"

Everything inside you burns and twists. Fuck, you want that. All of that. And all you have to do to get it is unstick your stubborn, too-sharp tongue and admit that you want it. That even without the excuse of three shots of tequila on top of a few too many cocktails, you still want it.

You're burning up. There's sweat on your palms. It squeaks as you twist your hands over the railing. He hasn't just turned the tables on you, he's flipped the whole fucking room and cornered you with it. And God help you, it's infuriating how much you like it.

"Hate you. So much."

"Hm." His hand falls away, and you miss the touch instantly. "So you keep sayin'. Decision time, honeybee. You pick or I'm picking for you and we're both gonna be disappointed in that result."

There is a long long beat where that threat hangs between you. Any hope that he might just push forward and take you anyway – push you into the wall and fuck you ragged right here and now without another word – bleeds away as you stare him down, your wordless challenge going unanswered. His gaze is iron; hard and unyielding, and you know if you wait even one more second, this...whatever the hell this is, will be over. Permanently.

Swallowing the last of your pride like so much cheap liquor, you seize the front of his shirt, dragging him forward even as he starts to back away.

"Yes. Fucking goddamn it. Yes, I want this."

"Yeah?" He leans in, nose brushing your cheek. Somehow it's that little gesture that sets off a bomb's worth of butterflies in your stomach.

"Yes."

The heat of his hand is almost shocking as it glides up your thigh and underneath your skirt, his thumb stroking up and finding only bare skin. Whiskey grins. "Knew it."

You choke back a sigh. "Smug bastard."

"Yes ma'am." His thumb brushes up and down your slit idly, slow and considering. He glances around, quirks an eyebrow, and offers: "Here?"

Following his glance, you spot the hunk of plastic mounted in the top corner of the elevator. "Camera. Fuck."

"Sure enough," he drawls, still grinning. "You want to give the boys 'n' girls in the security booth a show, or d'you want to go someplace a little more sensible?"

Sensible. God, If he'd chosen any other word, you might've agreed. Private. Safe. Anything but fucking sensible.

"Fuck sensibility. Fuck security, too. Just shut up and fuck me."

He laughs through your kiss, the touch of his lips too gentle by miles. The last thing you want right now is gentle. You don't fucking deserve gentleness after all that. And so you rake your teeth across his bottom lip, roll your tongue against his. When you nip at his tongue, Whiskey breaks off, cupping your sex with a warm, calloused hand.

"You're gonna eat me alive, honeybee," he growls. He parts you with a thick finger, drawing the pad of it from your entrance to your clit and back again. "Mm, I have been thinkin' about this all day," he murmurs before his finger sinks into you.

Sighing, you curl your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off to run your fingers through his hair and muss up that razor-clean side part. His hand works unhurried between your legs. You rock against it, listening to the obscene smacking sound as he works you open.

"All that fuss and you're wet for me already, darlin'," Whiskey says wonderingly.

All you can do is groan, chasing the sensation of the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. "Shut up and kiss me."

You tug at his hair, try to urge him forward, but he doesn't budge. He sinks down to his knees instead, right hand never leaving the wet heat of your cunt.

"I'll kiss you, baby," he says, pushing up your skirt and lifting your right leg over his shoulder. "Don't you worry."

And he kisses you: a warm, wet slide of lips and tongue where he's got you spread. Gasping, you grab the back of his head. He looks up at you, only the crinkles at the corner of his eyes proof of his smile, and his eyes slip closed like a man savoring his favorite meal.

"Jesus." The word comes out in a squeak as his mouth works on you, your throat tightening in an effort to keep quiet. A second finger joins the first and you whimper, tightening reflexively against the stretch. Christ those fingers are thick. Shuddering, you work your fingers in his hair and pull him closer, your eyes wandering up to the reflection in the far wall. The view is mesmerizing: your back arched, skirt hiked up to your waist, with Whiskey's head buried in between your legs like a man trying to slake an ungodly thirst. The view on the left is even better. From there you can watch his mouth work against you, catching a glimpse of his tongue, wet and shining as it slips between your folds. He sways forward on his knees like a charmed snake, a growing bulge straining against the dark blue denim of his jeans.

There's a gentle ding, and for a moment you're so scrambled you think maybe your phone's going off. And then the elevator doors slide open. An older looking gent with a battered briefcase stands frozen on the other side, eyes wide as dinner plates as he takes in the same view you've been admiring in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

For a single spaced-out second the only thing you can think is, Going down?, which makes you erupt into a fit of breathless, senseless giggles.

The newcomer's mouth hangs, flapping uselessly over words he can't quite formulate. He might be trying to apologize for the intrusion or insist you repent and turn to Jesus. You don't know and you don't care.

Whiskey looks up at him over the line of your thigh, lips glistening. "Get the next one," he snarls, and punches the CLOSE DOORS button.

He plants a rough, sucking kiss at the top of your cleft as the doors close again, utterly unperturbed. "Penthouse, darlin', if you please."

Oh he would be in the fucking penthouse, wouldn't he? Panting, you fumble a hand out trying to find the button just as Whiskey slides in a third finger and you cry out, almost swiping every button in the center row by accident.

The elevator hums to life and begins to move. The red light on the security camera flashes benignly and you stare at it for a long beat while Whiskey gets right back to work, moaning hungrily between your legs. Someone's watching this. The thought excites you more than it should, adding fuel to the already roaring fire Whiskey is so eagerly stoking with his tongue. You roll your hips, swearing roundly. It's not enough. It's fucking glorious, but it's not enough. You know what you need.

"Fuck me," you gasp. "Goddamn it, Whiskey, gimme your cock."

He glances up at you through thick lashes, eyebrows raised. "Is that what you want, honeybee?" he asks.

You bear down on his fingers hard as if to answer and he clenches right back, thumb and pinky giving him leverage against your pubic bone as he grips you tight, fingers stroking along your walls. It's only by virtue of the handrail and the support of his shoulder that you don't sink straight to the floor. Christ that backfired.

You nod fervently, head spinning.

A roll of his shoulder unseats your leg, and he stands. His left hand wraps around your throat, thumb against your jawline, and that's so fucking perfect you can't stop yourself from whimpering. In a flare of desperation you grasp his wrist, urging him to grip your neck just a little tighter. Chuckling, he brushes his lips against yours – soft and strangely tender – while he fucks you steadily with his fingers.

"Shoulda known you'd like that. ��Well? Cat got your tongue? Come on, darlin', lemme hear it."

"Yes."

"Louder. Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"Oh god-d-d-damn it!"

He chuckles darkly, fingers coaxing inside you. "You can do it, honeybee. I know you want it. I just need hear you say it."

You bare your teeth. "I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl." He grins down at you, wide and wolfish. "Now: ask me nicely."

Oh he would, wouldn't he?

"B-bastard," you snarl, then begin to laugh.

"Oh come on now," he croons, eyes darting between your lips and your own heavy-lidded stare. "I'm sure you can get along without your pride for an hour or two. It ain't so bad. And I promise I'll make it worth your while. C'mon."

You groan, grit your teeth, and hiss out: "Please."

He crooks his fingers and you gasp like you've been burned. "'Please' what?"

"Please fuck me. Please fuck me."

He slots your trembling thigh between his legs, pressing the clothed, solid length of his cock against you. "With this? Hm?"

"Fuck, yes." You writhe, feel it twitch, and he rolls against you in response.

"Come for me first, honeybee. Then I'll fill you up good and proper. Cross my heart."

His fingers press into you harder, spreading gently as he draws them back. Your legs begin to shake so badly that he has to pin you to the wall to hold you up. The rail digs into your back. You'll bruise tomorrow, but you're not sure you've ever cared less in your life.

"You gonna come, for me?" he asks, rutting a little more enthusiastically against you when he feels you begin to tense and flutter around his fingers.

Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you nod, feeling the drag of his lips on your cheek.

"Uh-uh. Talk to me, darlin', I wanna hear it. I want you to tell me every single time you're gonna come, you understand me? Count them out. Let's see just how many you got in you tonight."

"Oh you ass!" You moan and laugh all in the same breath.

"You like it," he says simply.

He kisses you, warm and deep, and you bite his lip for the audacity. "Don't stop. Fuck, I'm close."

He turns your head, slides his hand around to cup the back of your neck. "Open your eyes, honeybee. Watch yourself."

You try. Everything's a blur; inside and out. Fuzzy and disconnected and hot. Blinking to clear the fog, you can see your reflection caught between the wall and Whiskey's body. Your eyes are dazed, unfocused. His cheek is against yours, a look of utterly indecent hunger on his face, lips red and swollen where you've bitten him. He's pressed up against you too tightly to get a good view, but you can see his arm pinned between your bodies, and the flex of muscles working underneath his jacket.

There is, you note with a fuzzy sort of disconnect, a small, ragged hole in the arm of his jacket.

But before you can put any more thought to this discovery he presses his thumb down against your clit – no friction, only a firm, rolling pressure – and that's all you need. If it wasn't for the his body against yours, you'd buckle. As it is, trapped between him and the wall, all you can do is quake and cry out, arms tightening around his shoulders as you come.

He hums indulgently, kissing your cheek. "Count it out."

Panting, you pull hard on his hair until he groans. "One."

"Good girl," he murmurs. Slowly his hand withdraws, giving one last slow swirl over your folds before he sucks you greedily off his fingers.

There's the muffled sound of a zipper and you could almost laugh – finally! But then the elevator slows and stops, doors sliding open with a soft ding. Whiskey glances sidelong at the open door, corner of his mouth pulling up in a half-cocked grin. The disappointed whine you give as you hear him zip himself right back up is wholly involuntary.

"Well wouldn't you know it," he says, pulling away from you and stooping for his hat. It's all you can do not to whack him on the back of the head – or on the ass – as he turns away, wiggling your skirt back down over your hips instead.

He gives a ridiculous wink towards the security camera with his hat held to his chest. Your stomach gives a neat little flip as you look up at that blinking red light – god, you'd forgotten it was even there.

"Sorry to blue-ball ya and run, fellas." He gets an arm around your waist, tugging you into the hall at an easy, languid pace, as if nothing had happened. As if your legs weren't still quivering, with the evidence of your orgasm running in sticky trails down the inside of your thighs.

"Betcha money, marbles, or chalk they'll be jerkin' off over that for weeks," he says jovially, pulling you to his hip when he feels you start to wobble. "C'mon. Let me get you in a bed before I say to hell with it all and fuck you out here on the goddamn floor."

Your knees tremble again; at least one part of you has full support of that particular idea. As the door opens you pull him back to your mouth, kissing him hard even as he steers you by the hips through the suite. You barely see any of it. Recessed halogen lights. The sparkle of painstakingly cleaned glass and marble. Little else. A grunt escapes you as you fetch up hard against the wall and Whiskey crashes into you. The sudden pressure against his groin leaves him winded, rocking forward against you with a shuddering groan.

"Tell me how you want it," he says, words mangled against your mouth. The salt-musk taste of you still clings to his tongue, sharp against some faint remnant of sweet mint.

One hand slips down, squeezing your breast through the material of your blouse. The room spins giddily like a tilt-a-whirl, still riding the coattails of your last orgasm. "Hard," you breathe. The skirt you chose is too fucking tight, and you have to reach down to drag it back up your thigh just to hook a leg around him. "Don't you dare be gentle."

He chuckles as you press into him. "How hard is hard? I can be a little rough if you let me off the leash."

Frustrated, you slip your hands under his sports coat, nails biting into his shoulders through his dress shirt. "Fuck, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah," he says, and his voice has reached that breathy, sonorous pitch that sends a hot-cold shiver rocketing down your spine. "Yeah you do. A little honesty would be appreciated tonight."

One good shove and his jacket slips to the floor. "That's funny coming from Double-O-Cowpoke."

"Not my fault you don't believe me." It's pitched like a joke, light and breezy, but there's something in his eyes. Sharp and peculiar and gone almost before you can be sure it was really there, but makes your stomach clench with a sudden surety that the next words out of his mouth are completely genuine. "I ain't lied to you yet, honeybee."

And that almost brings you to a halt. Your hands splay out on his shoulders, pushing back to look at him more clearly. If that's true. If that's true...oh god, why would he have told you?

The question is halfway to your lips before he surges his way forward again, his mouth crashing into yours and kissing you hard and urgent and bruising. A faint sound of protest rises in your throat and you push back a little, not wanting him to stop but wanting him to wait because...because....

And the rest of that thought flutters away. He doesn't stop kissing you. He just doesn't stop. And he's moaning as his tongue licks into your mouth and his teeth scrape over your lips like it's the most decadent thing in the world. You grasp at his face, wrists caging in his neck, feeling his pulse race along next to your at such a frantic speed it's almost alarming. Your last little shred of rational thought all but begs you to push him back a little harder, to make him look at you and ask him what's wrong...and then it just flutters away because God this is what you want. This. This, this, this.

"You want it hard?" he rasps into your mouth, rutting up against you hard enough to drive you back into the wall.

Breathless, you nod. Work your fingers through the mess you've made of his hair. "Ruined you last night, didn't I?" You tighten your grip, use your knuckles for leverage and pull.

Whiskey groans, slipping his hands under the bunched hem of your skirt to grip your ass and grind you down against him. "Goddamn right you did, honeybee."

"So ruin me back." The thick denim that covers his fly is rough, but you rub against it all the same, shuddering at the coarseness against your tender skin. "Fair is fair. Right?"

His eyes slip closed and he buries his face against your neck for a moment, breathing unsteady. "Jesus, girl, you're gonna soak straight through my jeans," he mutters. "All right, honeybee. All right. I only got one rule. If I do anything you don't want, you tell me. 'Cause I ain't stopping unless you do. Not tonight. Got it?"

"Whiskey-"

He gets a grip on your chin, levels your eyes on his. "You tell me 'no' or you tell me 'stop.' Got it?"

"Yes." Patience exhausted, you wrench his belt open. "Now come on."

Buttons patter to the floor as he tears open your blouse. And that's good. That's fair. And what's even better is the rough way he puts his hands on you, yanking your bra down to knead and squeeze your bare breasts. When you finally free his cock there's only a brief moment to savor the warm, solid length in your grip before his fingers clamp down on your nipples. The sensation is so sharp and bright and sudden that you yelp, arching up on your tip-toes.

"Hands off, honeybee," he warns.

Whimpering, you flatten your hands against the wall.

"Too much?" he asks softly, that funny little furrow deepening between his eyebrows.

A groaning laugh slips out of you, and you arch your back, pushing your breasts against his hands. "Not enough."

"Fuck, ain't you just the sweetest, dirtiest thing." He twists and you cry out, hips bucking forward. His cock drags against your hip and you chase it, trying to pin it between you.

"Oh, c'mon. You promised," you whine.

"Oh I'm gonna keep my promise, baby, don't you fret. I want you just as fucked-out as you had me. Wanna see you so goddamn cock dumb your eyes roll back. Bet you've been thinking about this all day, too, haven't you?"

The wall warms under your hands as you fight not to push back more. And maybe that's what does it. A little mental-short circuit. Because God knows you haven't been able to think of a single fucking thing other than this. But the denial is on your lips so fast it must be involuntary, a reflexive need to find his buttons and push: "You wish."

Whiskey raises an eyebrow, lip curling. For a second he's amused, seeing the game you want to play. And then it's like a switch flips. Suddenly this isn't the man who'd begged for the privilege of fucking you last night. This isn't even the man who'd put his grateful mouth to your cunt in the elevator. This is the man he'd pretended to be right up until you got his hands tied. The cowboy get up wasn't the costume – this is. This smile. This infuriating swagger.

"Oh, really?" he says, and for the first time you realize just how much that drawl had begun to soften around you, because now that dial's ramped right back up to 11. "You turn up tonight without any goddamn panties on, ride my fingers like a coin-op pony, beggin' to get fucked all the while, and then you try and tell me you ain't been thinkin' about me? I felt how hard you came. How fucking wet you were." His hand darts between your legs as quick a snake-strike, fingers carding through your folds. "Are. Ain't no face left to save, darlin'."

He's in your space, radiating heat, his fingers stroking against your swollen sex, stoking your own fire all over again. But the fire those words kindle burns a little quicker and a little hotter. Without a second thought you strike out, palm tingling as it finds its target against his cheek.

For a moment Whiskey doesn't even seem to breathe. He just stands there leaning heavy against you with his eyes closed and his nostrils flaring. Redness blooms against his cheek. When his eyes open again, the way they bore into you, glittering and eager takes your own breath away.

He hums, that low, pleased sound. But now it slips lower and lower into a breathy rumble that lances straight through you. "Do it again."

Swallowing hard, you slap him again. Harder this time. For a moment the only reaction he gives is the way his cock bobs sharply, slapping against your thigh.

Then he growls, seizing the back of your neck and crushing you to him. You crane up, half expecting a kiss, but his thumb snags the corner of your mouth. He drags it open until your jaw hangs, tilting your head back. A choked sound that's a little too plaintive to be a protest slips from your open mouth a second before Whiskey spits into it.

"Swallow."

You do, sucking hard on his thumb for good measure.

"You nasty little thing," Whiskey says, his voice slow and dark as molasses. His eyes glaze over a little as he works the ball of his thumb against your tongue, watching the way your lips purse around it. "Maybe you are the one that needs the punishin'."

He leans against you, breathing hard as he considers this thought. You frown a little, catching his thumb with your teeth, hoping he'll get the hint and give you something better to put in your mouth. But then his grip loosens, one hand disappearing behind you. Hints, it appears, are completely off the table tonight.

"In," he growls, throwing open the bedroom door. "Now."

Whiskey leads you inside, hitting the lights with his elbow. The room is furnished in that same drab but sparkling minimal style, an impressively large bed swallowing up the majority of the space. One wall is nothing but windows behind drawn shades, a sliding door leading out to a small, isolated balcony.

He steers you directly to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you across his lap to straddle his knee. You let out an indignant little yelp at the treatment, but then he shifts his leg under you and the indignance crumbles. It presses against your mound just right, urging you open, and you grind down with a gasp, trying to find a little relief.

Whiskey tuts. "Oh now look at that. Try to tell me you ain't been thinkin' about takin' my dick and then rub on me like a goddamn cat in heat."

There's the sound of a zipper – not his this time, but your own – and then a little tickle at your hip as he undoes the skirt and wrestles it down your legs. He pushes your blouse up, bunching the material up around your shoulder blades. For a second you think he means to pull it off, but then he twists the fabric around his hand. The garment draws up tight, leaving your arms, still in the sleeves, pinned to your sides.

You moan a little when you feel his hand slide across your ass. He bends over you, and you feel the wet heat of his mouth against your ass cheek. A sweet, languid swirl of his tongue before he bites down. You jerk hard enough that your clit drags against the rough weave of his jeans and you cry out, the sound muted by the bedspread.

The pressure of his knee aches beautifully against your cunt, your breathing so shallow and quick it makes you lightheaded. You know what's coming, and you know what you asked for. The last thing you wanted was to be sensible. And this – well this might be the least sensible thing you've ever done.

You buck your hips up sharply. Searching for his hand. "Do it."

The first strikes are quick and brisk. They tingle, warming your skin, but don't hurt. Not yet. This is just a tease of the real thing. A warm up. The tips of his fingers trace the first reddening outline of his hand against your skin, a match for the not-yet faded print against his cheek. Crooning, he kneads your buttocks, spreading them apart, making the slick folds of your pussy slide against each other.

"Sweet Jesus will you look at that. Open that up, baby. Lemme see just how fuckin' wet that gorgeous little pussy is."

You gasp, grinding down again, and then first real slap lands across your ass, unexpected and jarring. The sting is enough to make your eyes water, but the impact drives you forward, almost encouraging your hips to grind into him. A second strike lands on the other cheek, then back to the first, alternating each time. You rock with it, caught between the hot stinging slap of skin on skin and the building heat between your legs.

"This what you wanted?" Crack.

"Fuck!"

"Is it?" he demands. His hand descends again. Crack.

"Yes!" You kick out, struggling not because you want to, but because you have to. And it only makes it worse. Or better, or – God, you don't even know now. It's more. It's just more. His knee digs in harder and your poor neglected cunt throbs with a misplaced ache and you swear you have never needed to feel yourself filled up more than you do right now.

"You gonna behave?" Crack. "You gonna stop lyin' to me now?" CRACK.

"Yes!" The word leaves you in a shuddering sob, thighs clamping down around Whiskey's leg. One more, God help you, one more and you'll tip over, you'll come all over his knee, you're so close.

And then he stops, rubbing and kneading the hot flushed skin, and you whine in desperate frustration as your orgasm begins to retreat.

"Goddamn. Prettier than a Georgia peach," Whiskey says thickly. His hand strays, slips down between your cheeks and presses against the splayed lips of your pussy. You writhe under the sudden attention, feeling the tips of his fingers slide around your clit. "And damned if you don't drip twice as sweet."

"Please." Warmth trickles from the corner of your eyes, blooming against the bedspread.

The swirl of his hand is lazy, almost soothing but for the way it keeps you so frighteningly close to the edge. "Truth first, honeybee. C'mon. You know what I wanna hear."

"Ye-yes," you mutter. "Goddamn it yes. I've been thinking about fucking you all day. All goddamned day...God, Jesus, fuck, and then you didn't show. Thought you'd ditched me. Made me want - want it and then ditch me."

You bury your face in the quilt. It's a fucking cop out and you know it. You don't just want it. You want him. Fuck, what is happening?

Again you feel his mouth against your ass cheek, open and wet, but this time his tongue is almost cool by comparison. "There now. I didn't ditch you, baby. Wouldn't fuckin' dream of it." His voice is low now, placating, nearly apologetic. And then his fingers are slipping inside you again, stroking and curling. "I'm right here here, baby. Right here. Just a little late, is all."

You whine, trying to wriggle back to drive him in deeper. Those thick fingers are like fucking magic but you need more than they can provide. Desperate now, you clutch your fingers back towards him, find his shirttail and tug at it. "Jack. Please."

It doesn't even register to you that you've called him by his name – God, you didn't even think you remembered his name – until the fingers inside you still. If it wasn't for the hammering of your heart in your ears you might've heard his breath catch.

Slowly he twists his fingers inside you, pressing down until you shudder. "What is it, honeybee?" he mutters. The hoarseness in his voice is familiar. You wish you could see his face. "Tell me what you want."

"Please fuck me. Please. I waited all fucking night."

He rolls you off his lap, leaving you dangling half off the bed and folds over you, cock nestled against the heat of your reddened ass. There's a sticky slide to it; you're not the only one that's wet.

"Hand to God, baby, I'll make it worth every minute. On my fuckin' life." The pained edge in his voice sets the room spinning, and for one mad moment you find yourself trying to grab onto the bedspread to keep from rolling away. Whiskey leaves a kiss against the back of your neck before he draws back, the hand fisted in your shirt tugging you along just a bit.

There's a long, wavering moment when his touch leaves you entirely and you almost protest before you hear him frantically shedding his clothes behind you. Then his hands return, his left winding back into your shirt, his right warm and strong against your back. The blunt, weeping head of his cock nudges between the swollen lips of your pussy. He stays there for an infuriatingly long moment, enough that you cry out your frustration into the bedclothes.

And then he finally makes good on his promise.

You go up on your toes, legs straining as he breaches you. After all the hours you spent thinking about it, all the hours you waited, it's bliss. But the pure, unadulterated stretch of it laces that bliss with a white-hot line of fire that only serves to make it all the more urgent. Maybe it's the angle, bent in half with your ass up and your legs closed. Maybe it's just how overwrought you are already. Maybe...fuck, you don't know, maybe somehow he's even harder than the night before. All you do know is that he feels so big you can't hardly stand it. It's so much, bridging the gap between pleasure and pain until it's just an overwhelming sense of pressure and fullness that has you clenching and fluttering around him. As if your body can't make up its mind if it wants to expel the intrusion or welcome it deeper.

He has no right to feel this good. None. But goddamn it you're so glad he does.

"Fuck," he mutters shakily, fingers biting into your hip. "This what you wanted, honeybee? Huh? This what you been waiting for?"

You can't find the air to give him an answer. Whiskey's still moving forward, you're not even sure how. Christ how much more of him is there? He leans forward, pushing you into the mattress, pushing down into you until you start to shake, until he hits that buried junction inside you that sends a flare of heat rocketing clear down to your toes and your stalled orgasm rears up again so sudden and so close that it's startling.

Every muscle in your body tenses, straining. The whine that breaks out of your gaping mouth is pitiful. "Shit, oh shit, Jesus fuck, Jesus fuck-fuck-fuck-"

He feels it. He must. There's no way he can't. "Oh fuck, that's it honeybee," he croons, working his free hand under you to circle your clit as he sinks that last broad inch into you. "Come on. Come all fuckin' over me."

For a second everything shorts out, all senses lost in a white-out. The only tenuous connection you have to your body lies in the grounding pressure of his cock inside you and the faint but rapid fluttering of his pulse in it. And then you're slamming back to yourself with a ragged cry, blood roaring in your ears and coming so hard that you nearly buck off of him entirely. Your arms flex, bend, bunched cloth digging deeply into your skin until you feel rather than hear the seams rip. And then the tightness is gone, Whiskey's hand unwinding immediately from your shirt to stroke up and down your back.

There's a lump in your throat when you finally find enough air to speak: "T-t-two."

Whiskey groans. "Beautiful. Fuck, you shake so pretty when you come for me. I could watch you do that all night. Might just, at that." He drags the torn wreck of your blouse off you, popping the clasp on your bra and bending to place an open, humid kiss in the valley along your spine.

He rocks forward and back, one hand clamped into soft flesh at your hip, humming tunelessly. "Been wantin' to bury myself back in this sweet pussy from the minute I woke up. Ain't been able to think of nothin' else. Just this," he says, drawing back slowly before burying himself to the hilt and rolling his hips against you.

You clamp your teeth down on your lip, fighting the haze. It's hard to swallow. Hard to breathe. But he's rolling into you slow, far too fucking slow. And that isn't what you need. You try to push yourself up on your elbows, but he thrusts forward, a little more force in it this time, and your arms give out.

"Ha-harder," you pant, voice thick and muffled by the quilt. You turn your head, claw the hair out of your face. "F-fuck me harder, god-d-d-damn it. Make me fuckin' feel it tomorrow. Big-dicked b-bastard, oh my God, don't you stop."

He breathes out a laugh, folding over your back. The pressure against your tender ass stings like hell, and you hitch in a hissing gasp as Whiskey's mouth finds your cheek. He kisses you, or does his best to. The angle is strange and your face is half-smashed against the bed, but his mouth slants over the side of yours, tongue dragging against your lips until you open for him, letting him lick against the sharp points of your teeth.

"Careful what you wish for, honeybee," he whispers, grinding forward in a maddening circle. "Words like that will get you in a whole mess of trouble."

The air leaves you in a whooping rush as he stands, dragging you up against his chest, your back bowing to try and keep the searing length of him pressed where you need it. And then – ah god – his hand is around your throat and his teeth are sinking into your shoulder, and you're suddenly glad he can't see the way your eyes flutter and roll back.

Not that he even needs to see it, because just then Whiskey groans into your skin as a rush of wetness courses down his cock.

"Fuck, is it that good, baby? Hm?" His voice quavers as his body impacts yours like a sledgehammer. "My dick finding all the sweet spots in that pretty little pussy for you?"

You grapple at him, find where he clings to you and grip his hands, inadvertently encouraging him to press his hand just a little harder against your throat. And there goes the room again, looping and floating as he starts to move, really move, driving forward harder and harder. You stumble, going up on your toes, some choked and desperate noise caught in your throat somewhere under his hand. Sparks pop behind your eyes, faint and wavering like fireworks reflected on choppy waters. And then the pressure eases, air rushing into your lungs once again. The fire in your belly flares up at it like a backdraft.

"M-more," you grate out. "Oh f-fucking God please more. D-don't...d-d-don't-"

"Don't you worry, baby. Ain't gonna stop," he mutters harshly against your ear. "I'll give you all you want. Ain't stopping 'til you tell me to stop."

You shake your head, or at least try to, the movement restricted by his hand. "N-no. Never. Fuck, never-never stop. Right there f-fuck-"

Whiskey growls out something low and broken and unintelligible as you clamp down on him, your body chasing that bright, blazing heat whether you want it to or not.

"Oh fuck, are you comin' again for me already, angel? Shit, you are, aren't you? Got yourself all riled up today and now you just can't stop. C'mon then, baby. Come on my dick. You feel like fuckin' heaven when you come. Pussy's so good it oughtta be fuckin' blasphemy. C'mon, honeybee, do it for me, come like you fuckin' mean it-"

Before you can breathe a word it hits you and it hits you hard, muscles seizing up so tight it's like they're trying to wring the pleasure out of you. You ride through maybe three or four near-blinding shocks of it and then your knees, traitorous things, finally give out underneath you. The only thing that keeps you up is Whiskey's arms wrapped tight around you, clutching you to him, suspending you on his dick as it grinds up brutally against your g-spot.

"Got you, honeybee," he grunts, rhythm never faltering. "I got you. Keep comin' for me, baby, keep comin'."

And god help you, you are. You're still quivering, still coming, and then his hand falls away from your neck to cup against your sex, palm flat against the rigid little knot of your clit. He doesn't even rub, it's just a heat and a pressure and it's like your whole body stutters upward, launching towards a second, higher peak. Whiskey lets out a broken groan against your neck as you bear down on him so hard it nearly hurts and you wail at the unexpected, overwhelming force of it.

Everything spins off and away in the aftermath, senses blown out like a bad circuit. Sounds are swallowed up in a high, persistent ringing. You haven't got the strength to force your eyes back open. There's a shift and a feeling of soft cloth beneath you and when the haze starts to lift you find you're on your knees on the bed, shoulders down and ass up with Whiskey draped over your back. He murmurs things against your cheek, your ear, your neck. You can't hear a word of it over the ringing in your ears.

You turn your head, knocking your forehead against his by accident. "Thr- I- f-four?" Your voice jumps in your throat, but you can't quite make it steadier. "I...I don't-"

"Honeybee," he drawls, his cock giving a hard, desperate twitch inside you. He grins at you indulgently, gathering your hair up in one broad hand and pulling. "Good girl."

A shudder goes through you as you realize he's still fucking you. Deep, swift strokes that send tingles sparking through you. He drags his cock out of you and drives it back in, pulling it over your blazingly sensitive nerve endings like a bow over violin strings. Like it's a privilege to do it. Like it'd be a fucking crime to stop.

He drags two more orgasms out of you like this. Shuddering, slow-building things that overtake you like flood waters, rising up with an aching, consuming crawl unmindful of the pounding pace Whiskey holds to like a clockwork battering ram. It's only when you gasp out a broken cry of "S-sih-s-six!" that Whiskey's hips finally begin to falter, stuttering and slowing at the feeling of your overworked pussy milking his cock again. His grip on you tightens as he tries to steady himself, tries to hold on, groaning his own restrained pleasure through gritted teeth.

"Tight - fuck! Goddamn it girl you get so fucking tight when you come. So fuckin' wet. Sweet Jesus. I don't know how m-much more of that I can fuckin' take."

"God, fuck, do it, just do it," you whine, reaching back for him with hands that can't stop shaking. "C'mon Jack."

He laughs at that, but it's a little frayed and frantic at the edges. He brushes the hair out of your face, working his fingers into it and giving it a tug. "I – ungh! Oh s-shit – I got... your p-permission this time, honeybee?"

You hum, nodding, and hitch in a breath as he grinds in particularly deep. "Please."

His rhythm falters again, hips canting suddenly at a hard angle. "W-where? Fuck, fuck, where do you want me, baby? Hurry."

"In-inside. Inside me. 'S what you wanted last night? Right?"

Whiskey makes a broken sound, lurching against you. "Y-yeah. Oh shit, yes. Jesus fucking Christ, honeybee."

Growling, he flips you over and slides in deep, pushing your knees up almost to your shoulders and staring raptly down at your face even as his own contorts. The length of him inside you stiffens even more, pushing in so deep his hipbones grind painfully against your own.

And then he breaks with a cry, his whole body locking up with the force of his climax. His head drops between your breasts and his back arches high, fists punching deep divots into the mattress on either side of you. He rocks through it, jerking at every pulse and spasm, and you can't help but shiver at the warmth that pools inside you as he comes.

"Fuck, fuck. Nngh, ho-holy shit." He almost says more, but another tremor wracks his body and it chokes off into a broken mess of Spanish - "¿Que chingas me estás haciendo a mi mujer?"

Winded and boneless, you scratch your nails weakly across his scalp, working your fingers down his neck to his shoulders. "Better be a compliment."

"You have no idea," he pants open-mouthed against your skin. Instead of elaborating he just eases himself out of you and crawls his way down, trailing his mouth over your skin until he's settled between your legs, staring at whatever disaster he's made of you and groaning softly in appreciation.

Take a picture, you almost say, it'll last longer. But before you can work up the air and energy to put breath to the quip he's drawing his tongue against you, cleaning up the mess he's made with a desperate, greedy reverence that sets your knees trembling on either side of his head.

Whimpering, you clamp your lower lip in your teeth, shuddering up against the warm heat of Whiskey's mouth. "Careful," you warn. "Oh, G-God, careful."

The only answer you get is a low moan and the feeling of his fingers sinking diligently back into your cunt, coaxing out the trickling remnants of his orgasm.

A high, lazy heat begins to build again, over-sensitivity easing back into something warm and sweet and giddily aching. Your hands cradle the back of Whiskey's head, carding through his sweat-soaked hair as he licks his own come out of you. It's not a thing you've ever really given much thought before – bodily fluids were always more an incidental part of sex for you than anything else – and you're not sure if he's enjoying the act itself or just the strange submissive edge of it. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance down at him, expecting to see him staring intently up at you over the rise of your mons, gloating over the state he's put you in. Fuck, he's made you come so many times you're sure he'll never let you forget it.

Only he isn't. His eyes are closed, face lax with a blissful intoxication as he tastes himself inside you, holding your thighs up and apart to let him work his tongue and fingers in deeper. The sight of him so clearly lost in the moment, not goading or gloating, just rapturously gone is maybe the single most erotic thing you've seen in your whole life. And that sweet, lazy heat suddenly licks up to a blaze.

The sudden clench you give is impossible to miss from Whiskey's vantage point, and he groans against you. "One more, honeybee," he almost pleads, breaking away from you with a sucking pop just long enough to gasp air. "You can gimme one more, can't you? I know you can. C'mon baby. Lucky seven."

He lowers his head once more with a decadent hum and you throw yours back as he sets to more deliberate work, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you right where he wants you.

"God, you greedy b-bastard," you rasp out. The stimulation to your worn nerves leaves you quaking, wriggling underneath him. You're not sure you can stand another one, but a deep, hungry part of you is desperate to find out.

He growls at that, more in agreement than in offense, and when your hands scrabble at his he parries them without even glancing up, seizing your wrists and yanking you down even tighter against his mouth.

You nearly kick him in the ribs when you come. It's not your fault. Honestly it's his for working you up to this point. To this high, nervous overload that's barely left you any control over your body. It doesn't seem to faze him, though. Your heel glances off his side as your shaking legs lock around his back and he just keeps going, like he hasn't even noticed, like he isn't even here. Like the world has spun down smaller and smaller and the only thing left is his mouth and your cunt and leaving that would mean the end of everything.

But it's too much. Goddamn it, it's too much.

You sob, wrench your hands out of his grip and push at his head. "S-s-seven. Sev-seven. F-f-fuck, Jack. No more, n-no more, please, stop, I can't, I can't– "

He's pulling away before you even finish, pressing one last biting kiss against your thigh before crawling shakily over you to put his mouth to yours with a surprising gentleness. The taste on his lips is heady, musky and sharp. His arms tremble at the strain of keeping himself from slumping over on top of you, gasping raggedly between each kiss like they’re just as necessary as air.

For the longest time you can’t even move, you’re far too wrung out and exhausted to even try. All you can do is lie underneath him and do your best to remember how to breathe between slow, lazy kisses. Eventually you work up enough breath to speak. "'M sorry," you whisper hoarsely.

Whiskey shakes his head, trying to focus his eyes. "What for?"

"'Two minutes and a cigarette.'" You bring up a hand, patting his cheek with an awkward bonk. "I stand corrected"

A look of comical confusion takes over his face, brows knitting together, until he finally remembers the jab you'd made after you'd tied him up the night before. "Shit," is all he says before he dissolves into giddy laughter. His arms finally give out on him and he rolls to keep from toppling onto you.

You roll with him, tucking your head into his shoulder and giggling. It aches. The muscles in your abdomen so overworked that even laughing hurts, but somehow that just makes it funnier.

You’ve nearly composed yourselves when Whiskey tries to prop himself up on an elbow that immediately slides out from under him and almost smacks you in the head, and that just sets you both off all over again. Giving up entirely, you just lay there, shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing like a couple of punch-drunk loons.

"You hungry, honeybee?” Whiskey asks breathlessly when he’s got himself back under some semblance of control. “I could eat a goddamn horse."

Now that he mentions it you realize just how long ago lunch was, and your appetite, which had so far taken a backseat to both your temper and libido, roars back to life. "God yeah, actually. 'M fuckin' starving."

So for the second time today, you get room service on Whiskey's dime. Or his employer’s dime, he insists. You're not sure if that's better or worse. It's a little ridiculous. Even more so when you think to look for a clock and realize just how late it is, but you're absolutely famished and the second he's on the phone asking in a pleasantly fuck-drunk voice for a couple hamburgers and french fries you're stomach's growling so insistently you're almost certain the staff on the other end of the line heard it.

He's chuckling as he hangs up the phone, draping over you to nuzzle into your neck. For the first time you notice just how much his mustache tickles, and you squirm under him, giggling all over again.

"Love me a woman with an appetite," he mumbles, nipping playfully at you.

"God, what the fuck are we doing?" you stutter out through your giggles. It's not meant to be a real question. You’re practically a space cadet right now, and you can’t remember the last time you were this giddy after sex. But Whiskey shifts a little, pulling back to look down at you, and you can't quite parse the look on his face. "Never had a one-night-stand like this before.”

"Hm." He drops his head a bit, tapping an idle finger against your collarbone. "Think the repeat offense kinda cancels out the one-night-stand idea, honeybee."

"You didn't strike me as the repeating kind."

"Mm. Didn't strike you as the kind who could hold his dick up for longer'n a minute, either. So I'll try not to take offense at your continued misjudgment of my character." His eyes wander away from yours, pulling up his well-worn crooked smile with some degree of effort. "But if you're looking for a polite way to tell this old man you've had your fill, there ain't no need to beat around the bush about it."

You might've appreciated the easy out once. After tonight, though, you're almost offended at it. You're not in the habit of begging for things you only have a mind to dispose of. A little of that flighty panic starts to take hold, and you tamp it down. Fun. This is just for fun. Even if you do want a little more. Fuck, don’t start overthinking it now.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, and it's only the curiosity in your voice that keeps it from sharpening into an accusation.

Whiskey shakes his head, a bit of incredulity in his eyes. "What I want...shit, what I want is to get me somethin' nice an' artery-clogging to eat and then get some fuckin' sleep. Preferably next to the woman who has fucked me ragged two nights running, if she happens to be amenable to that kind of thing. That's as far as my wants go right this second."

The deflection is so clumsy it’s almost funny. “Chickenshit,” you mutter.

Whiskey blinks down at you, shocked for a moment before you give him a teasing smile. “Fuckin’ comedian,” Whiskey says, snorting laughter. “Ain’t no softening that tongue of yours, is there?”

“You never know.” You shift a little, heart hammering as you consider your next words. "How much longer are you going to be here?"

The crooked smile slips, becoming softer. "Well. That sorta depends on you, honeybee. My work's all wrapped up. But if you're gonna be around a bit longer and are lookin' for a bit of company I might be convinced to stay a bit longer."

You feel the smile creep up on your face before you can stop it. "I wouldn’t mind a little continued reprieve from corporate hell. Under one condition," you insist, waving a finger at him.

Schooling his face into a parody of gravitas, he nods expectantly. Proceed.

"I need to know something first. Some things. Plural."

He cocks an eyebrow. "How many is plural?"

You consider for a second, squinting. "Three."

"All right," he says, resting his chin against your shoulder. "Fire away."

You pop out your thumb. "Are you a serial killer?"

He stares at you for a long, silent beat before his eyes slip closed and he shakes his head, his chest hitching with stifled laughter. "No, honeybee, I am not now nor have I ever been a serial killer."

You nod, grinning. "Okay, one down.” You pop out your pointer finger. “Are you married?"

The levity bleeds out of his face with a swiftness that makes you regret the question instantly, sure he's about to drop a bombshell directly on your head that's going to leave you hating him and yourself. But he shakes his head, holds up his ringless left hand as if in proof, as though nobody having an affair would've ever thought to slip a ring off beforehand. But then, very quietly, he adds: "Was. But not for a long time."

You nod dumbly, mutter, "Okay.”

For a second you wonder if you should apologize – you’ve clearly tripped on something raw by accident – but then he's poking you in the ribs and drawing in a sharp breath. "And number three?"

A little grateful, you pop out your middle finger ask your last question: "What do you do? What do you really do?"

The corner of his mouth gives a twitch. "Shit, is that all? Well. Officially, I'm a businessman. I own a sizable amount of shares in the Statesman distillery company. Which, incidentally, is where that fine stock of bourbon whiskey came from," he adds.

You lean back, eyeing him carefully. You don't think he's lying. And yet....

Your fingers find the catch of a scar against his ribs. "You're scarred to shit for a liquor tycoon, cowboy."

The twitch turns into a grin. "I have been known to get a little rough-and-tumble once in a while."

"I don't know if I believe that story any more than I did the James Bond bullshit."

Whiskey huffs a laugh. His jeans are in a puddle at the end of the bed and he drags them up, pulling out a thick leather wallet out of the back pocket. From one of the compartments he pulls a business card embossed in gold and black and hands it to you.

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, Statesman Distillery, Kentucky.

You blink at it, giggling a little. "Jesus Christ that is actually your name?"

"More or less. Been Anglicized for flavor, among other things."

"What was it before?"

There's an odd sharpness in his eyes when he looks at you, a shrewdness you'd never have expected from the costume cowboy you'd met down in the bar. For a moment you're sure that not only is he not going to answer, but that you've overstepped a line you weren't even aware existed.

"That's four questions," he says, "not three."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," you add with a tilt of your head.

The corner of his mouth curls slightly, and the sharpness fades. "Well now, how can I resist that a bargain like that?" He pauses a moment, as if reconsidering, then adds: "It was Joaquin."

"Joaquin?"

"Mm." He nods. There's only a moment of quiet before he tilts his hips to the side, jostling you. "C'mon, darlin. A deal's a deal."

You roll your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. And you tell him your name. He repeats it back, and you don't need to see his face to know he's smiling.

"Pleasure to meet you," he says. "Literally."

"Jackass."

#agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #citrus variations #spicy spicy content babes #I really didn't mean for this to end up this long but here we are I guess #ao3 version and fic masterlist will be updated shortishly

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saintsurvivors · 3 years

Text

do you know what would just be...completely unhinged, just off the top of my head, actually obsessive?

murdoc messing with mac enough that he twists his memories so thoroughly that Mac ends up thinking JACK is the one who is after mac, angry that mac left the sandbox alive when so many of Jack's brothers didn't or something, i dunno Im just here for mac being a funky little amnesic, and in hindsight of course it doesn't make sense, not really, not when it was jack protecting mac, but mac is so high on confuse the fuck outta the genius drugs and murdocs general mind fuckery that it MAKES SENSE and some how, the boy who Jack has come to see as a kid, who was always so dependant on jack for all that he used to quietly say he didn't need anyone is a ball of absolute terror because murdoc has been whispering sweet evil little nothings in his fucked up ear and hotboxed mac on the ride over and his lil genius brain is going ten to the dozen and doesn't know which way is up other than murdoc = good and jack is the little devil here to. I dunno. rip his appendix out and make him eat it and jack, who hides his serial killery a lot better than most but not enough since he WAS a cia agent, is fucking horrified and spends AT LEAST an hour screaming at hia fathers own grave about how he's gonna rip murdoc in half, that he'll kick his teeth in and that Jack would follow mac in death if mac DID shuffle off the mortal coil, because as everyone knows, mac and jack are entirely too codependant and if you think jack would not have IMMEDIATELY kidnapped mac for the kovacs mission until someone snakey whispered into his ears, I'm sorry I dont take constructive criticism, this is a james macgyver unfriendly post so-

But anyway

murdoc honestly at this point doesn't even need to keep mac on what is probably sorely needed sedation vacation because mac BELIEVES him wholeheartedly why wouldn't he? Murdoc found him when he was battered and bruisedand something HAD obviously go wrong and murdoc is an obsessive little gremlin who doesn't know boundaries or a healthy relationship with a partner even if it danced naked in front of him him a brand new gun held to cassians head.

And honestly I don't know what I'm MORE obsessed with;

Situation one where Jack just goes absolutely bat shit insane and decides that fuck it. He's gone off the deep end. He's sniffed glue, he nearly ate a bullet the other day after downing a shitton of alcohol and He's spent more time screaming at god to give him his son back and so he just. Joins murdoc, even if its just to keep murdocs awful little doberman paws off mac. murdoc is routinely threatened with dismemberment, Mac is in the seventh hell that compromises of his fucked up partner who kidnapped and brainwashed him and his gone off the rails father figure who routinely hunts down Mac's REAL father in hopes of getting revenge for mac when he's not shoving a gun down murdocs throat. Mac on the other hand routinely has to resist the entirely all too tempting urge to either murder all of them. kill himself. murder the entire world and probably make it a better place. of course he does nothing because murdoc insists that his darling darling scout is ao much fun when he's high as a kite on whatever shitty concoction murdocs hell brain has thought up and so routinely screams into his hands that the universe is collapsing and that mac will collapse alongside with it, that his blood is infected with life and his tears are the cyanide needed to rid the rot of it, all of this in-between scribbling on various surfaces because he's SO close to cracking whatever it going on in his hotboxed little mind and so HELP ME if anyone distracts him-

Situation two where Jack just. Knows exactly exactly he's gotta do when he sees mac being held up by murdoc whose decided to be funky and hold a gun to his drugged up BFF who can't count left to right unless you suddenly want him to start sprouting algebra that doesn't make sense and could probably summon Albert Einstein back from the dead or something. And he just straight up shoots. Shoos murdox, shoots mac who is now wailing and screeching, blood strewn across his face and kept pinned beneath murdoca literal dead weight weight he was close! Green energy was so close, he almost had it, and he's begging Jack to bring murdoc back, who'd somehow been thr one to spin the little codex hamster wheel in thr back of Mac's suddenly genocidal brain and so jakc just hauls mac up, shoots him in the head after saying sorry and then shoots himself immediately after because what's a family with a little double homicide-suicide amirite?

#macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #jack dalton #murdoc #macdoc #mac and jack #brainwashing #dark au #suicide #murder #i am.....entirely too sleep deprived and starving for this #im blaming night shift and anakin skywalker

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guiltgoreglory · 3 years

Text

Heat Waves (Chapter 1: A Warm Welcome)

(Very) Brief Summary: Reader is a government contractor joining the team in Benghazi. (Eventual Tanto x Reader) (2,684 words)

Chapter 2

Foreword: In this series, the reader will be loosely based off of Nikita from the TV show Nikita (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikita_(TV_series)). The reader has an extensive background in black-ops and is currently an independent contractor working with the department of defense in coordination with the executive branch. If you have any questions about the character, feel free to reach out to me and I can clarify. The story will generally follow the plot of the movie with the exception of a few scenes. Lastly, the POV will shift throughout the story, a change in POV will be signaled by a line.

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I have a full plot already set up but it has been a long time since I’ve written a fic. I’m so sorry if the writing is kinda shitty but I really wanted to get it down in writing. I hope you like it!

You closed your eyes and rested your head against the headrest, trying to find an ounce of comfort in the cramped seat. The dull hum of the plane was cut through by various murmurs amongst the travelers. After a minute or two, you deemed the effort fruitless, letting out a frustrated sigh. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked out the window, watching as the monotonous view trailed by. For the next several weeks, maybe even months, you’d once again become acclimated to discomfort. This shitty seat is probably as good as it gets, you thought. The department will likely have you shacked up in some storage closet on a grimy 20-year-old cot. You have had worse and at least you’d be occupied.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Silva shift. You turned, watching him from a row back, across the aisle. He grimaced as he took off his wedding ring, putting it into a small metal container. He didn’t appear to notice your gaze as you turned your attention back to the window, the heat already radiating in. You felt sorry for him. Leaving people behind is never easy, especially kids. Luckily, you didn’t have that problem.

As the plane began its descent you skimmed the team comp in your head. You’d been thoroughly briefed on the contractors, on top of all the research you had done on your own. You were joining alongside Jack Silva. A family man in real estate. Pushed to fly back overseas for the money to support his family. From all that you had seen, he’s a good guy. He seemed to be good company. It’ll be nice to not be the only strange face, you thought.

You readied yourself. Benghazi is far worse than most believed. Ever since the department even suggested you might be helpful here, you’d been keeping track of the chaos. It was only a matter of time before it erupted into a full-blown civil war.

As the landing zone came into view you checked your hijab, making sure not a hair was out of place. You wore a casual white button-down shirt with a gray tank top underneath. You unfolded the sleeves, covering as much of your skin as possible. Given the heat, you’d love to run out in something a little more breathable, but the beige cargo pants would have to do. Next, you checked your “cello” case that sat in the seat next to you. Moving the strap towards you for a quick and effortless disembark. Being you had its perks, one of which was bringing some of your own firepower.

You cracked your neck as a familiar ding came over the com.

“Welcome to Benghazi.”

The two men settled into the car, watching over all the civilians walking past. Rone leaned forward, pulling a handgun out of the back of his pants. “It’s loaded.” Jack accepted the gun readily, cocking it within his lap.

“How’s the team here?”

“Good. Three ex-marines, one ex-army ranger. It’ll be nice to have some more team guys around.”

Jack briefly glanced back at Rone. “Guys?”

“Yeah. We’re waiting on one more before we head out.”

“You work with him before?”

“Nope. Defense department assigned her.”

Jack furrowed his brow slightly, pursing his lips in surprise. “Alrighty then, what’s she look like?” Jack looked more intently for another westerner standing out like a sore thumb.

“No idea. I’ve been told that she will find us.”

“Oh how ominous.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

Rone hummed in agreement as he eyed the rearview mirror. Out of the crowd, a body began to beeline towards the car. “Think that’s her.”

Jack nonchalantly stretched, turning towards the back of the car to catch a look.

You approached the dust-covered truck, already craving shade from the burning sun. Your sunglasses did little to protect your eyes from the glare off of the ground. As you got closer, you could see Tyrone eying you from the side mirrors. You adjusted the straps of both your cello case and your duffel, making sure not to make any sudden movements. You made your way to the driver’s side door, turning to face him. “You Tyrone?” you asked, knowing full well it was.

“Yes, Ma’am. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Hop in.”

You nodded, moving back towards the rear of the car. Swinging the back door open, you threw your stuff onto the ground next to the seat. Leaving just enough room for you to climb in. As you sat down, you angled yourself towards Jack so that you could have a proper introduction. He noticed your movement, turning back to face you. He reached out his hand for a handshake.

“Jack Silva”

You took his hand. “Y/N.”

He settled back into his seat as Rone started the car. “Just Y/N?”

“Just Y/N.” You affirmed.

As Rone made his way through the city they began to catch up, making friendly jabs at each other. You yanked your duffel towards you, rummaging through the various clothes. You could feel Jack’s eyes peeking at you ever so often through the mirror, making sure you weren’t doing anything unsavory. Trust is earned. Finally, you found your shoulder holster. You unbuttoned your shirt, throwing it on the seat beside you. You put on the holster, adjusting the straps as needed so that it sat comfortably. After you were satisfied you again began to look through your luggage, pulling out two black pistols. You loaded a magazine into both of the guns. The sound quickly drew the attention of both men as the conversation briefly paused before they returned to their conversation. You paid them no mind, knowing that any response would probably make them more antsy. You then cocked them before placing them within your holster. Grabbing your shirt, you put it back on, leaving it unbuttoned. It was opaque enough to conceal your firearms as long as no one looked too close.

“So, Y/N,” Rone directing the conversation towards you, “The Defense Department didn’t tell me much about you. What branch you from?”

You turned from watching out the side of the car. “Covert operations.”

That definitely piqued his interest. Jack let Rone do the questioning, but it was clear he was just as curious as him.

“Alright. SEAL Team?”

“Uh, no. It’s a little more complicated.”

“Oh I get it, you’re on some James Bond shit huh.” He chuckled to himself as you smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Pretty much.”

Rone left the questioning there, knowing he’d probably not get much more of an answer, at least not until you’d come to know him a bit better. The two of them shared a look before the car came to a sudden stop.

“Shit. No, no, no, no, no this isn’t good.” Rone’s body tensed as he assessed the situation.

Civilians began to run around the car, whimpering in fear. You straightened up, readying for a shit show. You positioned yourself in the middle of the back, between the two men so you could see as much as possible through the windshield.

“Fuck.” Rone’s discomfort quickly seeped through his cool resolve. “Who the fuck are these guys?”

“What do we got?” Jack stayed still, his eyes scanning over the various armed men.

“Brigade we coordinate with, February Seventeenth Martyrs. This ain’t them.” He looked back past you and he switched into reverse. Moving back a few feet, the path was blocked and the car jolted forward. “Shit we’re boxed in.”

You settled on your knees, carefully unclipping the straps keeping your guns in place, just in case. Both men leaned out of the window. Jack looking up towards the man on the balcony readied to run.

“We bailing?” He asked, voice calm and collected.

Rone, giving no response, pulled out his radio. “Base this is Rone. Come in, over.”

“This is Base, go Rone.”

“I’m in a Jam off Fifth Ring Road. I’m lookin’ at about 8 armed tangos here.”

“Copy that, sit tight.”

“Sit tight, that’s great advice.” Everyone in the car became increasingly more agitated as the armed militia made its way in your direction.

You took a deep breath. “If we’re bailing we gotta do it now.” You glanced at your bags. You could leave the duffel. There wasn’t anything particularly important in there. The case on the other hand couldn’t be lost to a rampant terrorist cell, if you did, the government would be up your ass about it for at least another 10 years. You fidgeted slightly, knowing that the opportunity to flee was about to pass.

Jack clenched his jaw. “They got a KPV.”

Fuck this is bad.

“Base we ain’t got all day.”

“Hey, Rone. They’re trying to get Feb 17 to back you up, but we’re coming.”

Deeming that transmission utterly useless, Rone whipped out his cell. “Oz I’m in a jam of Fifth Ring.”

“Ty.” Jack interjected as the men became uncomfortably close.

“Rone, 17 Feb QRF is being alerted.”

“Fuck that, the only Quick Reaction force I want is my guys.” Without an immediate response, Rone continued on. “Send them. I want my guys.” He said more adamantly.

“Negative, Rone. Just hang in there.”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear. I’m looking at multiple radical insurgents with AKs and a 50-cal technical set to blow my rover all the way back to Zimbabwe. Over.”

You watched as a man dressed in a disheveled suit made his way around the vehicles and debris. He’s the big guy.

“It’s not my call, brother.”

Goddamnit. Looks like we’re either talking our way through this, or we go out quick. The thought gave you the slightest bit of comfort.

Rone looked towards Jack frustrated. You could sense he felt an inch of guilt for getting his friend stuck in this hellhole.

“Here we go.” Jack said nonchalantly as he could given the circumstances.

You crossed your arms, giving yourself easy access to your handguns without looking too conspicuous. A man stood at the front of the rover, yelling something you couldn’t understand. He pointed his AK right at you, maybe it wasn’t on purpose but you couldn’t help but mentally scoff. Well, that’s not very nice.

“Welcome to Benghazi.”

The man in front banged on the hood as the leader moved towards the driver’s side window. Jack raised his hands up innocently as Rone smiled at the man.

“Salaam.” Rone raised his badge up to the man in the suit as he gazed at him incredulously. “Libyan visa. Official. Libyan government.” The leader looked him up and down.

The guy with the AK was now in Jack’s face. His gaze shifted forward, doing his best to remain calm despite the barrel of a gun being inches from his forehead.

“Friendly? Hm? Friendly?” Rone again gestured with his badge.

Rone whatever game you’re playing it better fucking work because last time I checked a friend of Al-Qaeda is no friend of ours. You did your best to blend into the back of the car, feigning as the harmless woman.

“Pull over for inspection.” The leader said sternly.

Rone shook his head. “No.”

“Pull over for inspection!” He was now angry, his voice shaking with every word.

Alright, this is how it’s gonna go. You crept your hands slightly closer to your guns.

Rone’s voice remained steady. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

The man at Jack’s door yelled once more. Banging his palm against the dirty surface. Then the slightest movement came from Jack.

It’s showtime. You thought. You gripped your pistols and whipped them forward, pointing them as the secondary soldier positioned at the front of the rover. Jack and Rone acted similarly with Jack’s gun pointed across at the leader, and Rone’s gun pointed at the soldier beside the door. The soldier at the front adjusted his AK, pointing it more fervently towards the car.

“Look up.” Rone pointed towards the sky with his empty hand, never moving his gaze from the leader’s eyes. “Go ahead, look up.” Some of the aggression left the leader as he looked towards the sky, confused. “You see the drone?” The man looked back down. “No? That’s okay. The drone sees you.”

Nice play, Rone. You thought to yourself. A couple of Americans? No problem. We don’t pose that much of a threat. But good ol’ American air support? Now that carries a little weight.

“Sees your face. We know who you are.”

Jack, facing the soldier at his door, swallows hard. Keeping with Rone’s power play, he maintains eye contact.

“If anything happens to us, your home, your family, boom, gone. Give us the order to let us go.”

Jack, looking past the AK in his face, doesn’t flinch as the soldier gestures with his gun.

“I want the car!”

Within a brief moment, Jack and Rone switched their aim, with Jack now pointing his handgun at the soldier and Rone at the leader. You flinched ever so slightly at the movement, but you remained steady, watching for any worrisome movement amongst the militia. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You ignored the harsh metal of the rover digging into your knees. This was your guys’ only shot to make it out of this cramped alley. They had to think your little caravan of three had the power of the entire U.S. military revolving overhead when in reality, you were just three Americans with a couple of guns in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

“No, I’m not gonna do that.” Jack shakes his head, leaning forward towards the man. The energy around the car was beginning to shift. Despite the KPV having enough firepower to destroy your car, and about 5 cars behind you, you three possessed the upper hand. They recoiled at the barrel of your guns, not the other way around.

The leader’s eyes began to soften, his harsh exterior falling at the thought of losing everything. For a moment, you actually pitied him. “I earn the right to decide the future of my country.” You understood the sentiment behind his words. Once again the U.S. had shoved itself into the center of a country, with no right to do so. But you, and the men sat beside you, just wanted to keep others safe. You had no agenda.

“You’re talking to the wrong guy. How willing are you to die for your country? I’m ready to go right here, right now.” Easy, Tyrone. Don’t push it too far.

The leader’s frown deepened as he considered the weight of Rone’s words. He slowly backed away from the car. “Leave here. While you still can.”

You stopped yourself from relaxing your figure even though it felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted off your shoulders. Rone leaned back into his seat, beginning to maneuver the car between the debris. Jack slowly lowered his pistol to the door as the car inched forward. You followed suit and lowered your guns into your lap. You could hear the leader yelling to his men, and their posture relaxed enough to show they weren’t an immediate threat. Air filled your lungs for the first time in what felt like 5 minutes, before you looked behind through the dusty back window, making sure the leader was true to his word and you weren’t about to get shot in the back. You settled back onto your seat, leaning back against the warm metal. You debated holstering your weapons but decided it was best to have them at the ready until you were within the walls of the base.

“We got air support?” Jack’s voice was calm but demanding. You knew the answer to his question but left Rone to give him the bad news. Rone didn’t take his eyes off of the road as he did his best to make it back to base in one piece.

“We don’t have any fucking support.”

#Tanto x Reader #Tanto/Reader #Tanto x Y/N #13 Hours #Pablo Schreiber #Tanto #Kris Paronto #Kris Paronto x Reader #Kris Paronto/Reader

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mayraki · 3 years

Text

✧ chapter four: fire is catching - b. barnes x oc series ✧

-> captain-james’ gif

‘let’s play fire with fire’ series masterlist

my masterlist

summary: the night continues so sam, bucky and sera deal with the big man on his big throne. but when their mission doesn’t go according to plan, blood ends up spilling on the floor as their little team starts to fall apart.

warnings: graphic descriptions about blood.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A tall man with his deep voice asked while putting his hand on Sera’s shoulder as soon as she walked in front of him with the intention to walk inside the VIP area.

Sera, who had her veins still pounding from her fight with Bucky moments earlier, she moved the man’s hand away and looked at him dead in the eyes. “Dude, I’m not in the mood for this so you better fuck off.”

“Excuse me?”

Sera nodded with a smile. “Oh, you heard me.”

“Hey, hey.” Sam appeared from her back trying to calm the situation down like he always did. But before he could let out another word, the big guy on his boy throne spoke while he had three girls around him.

“What is going on with that girl, Jack?”

Sera moved her head to the side to be able to see the guy on the eyes. “We just need to talk to you!”

The man let out a big laugh soon joined by the girls next to him, which lead to Sera feeling her chest being filled with anger and hotness. “And why would I do that, sweetheart? What makes you think a man like me would want to talk to a girl like... you?” He grabbed one of the girls he had next to him and quickly moved her on top of his lap. Disgusted by this man, Sera clenched her jawline and rolled her eyes. “Unless, is not exactly talking what you want to do with me.” The man let out a grin as Sera tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes when a thought crossed her mind.

Bucky took a step closer angrily but soon stopped once he saw from the corner of his eye the little smile forming on Sera’s lips. “No, you’re right. It’s not talking what I want to do.” As soon as she said those words she opened her eyes normally and felt the hot air going through them.

Sam and Bucky looked at her and carefully watched her moves. But she wasn’t moving a single muscle from her body. Sam, noticing this and her silence, walked to be next to Sera and locked at her eyes. Followed soon by Bucky, but to her other side.

“Careful, now.” Sam said softly. “Just to get us in.”

Bucky heard Sam’s words and furrowed his eyebrows confused still looking at Sera and her red eyes. But before he could let out a word the man letting out a big scream in pain made him turn to him and see how he was grabbing his head as he was kneeled down on the floor.

“Sr? Sr? Are you alright?” The big man quickly walked towards him to try and take him off the floor worryingly. But soon after, the man stopped grabbing his head and quickly looked up with terror in his eyes.

“Just to get us in.” Sera said softly looking at how the man struggled to get up. The girls around him stepped back as they were grabbing each others arms.

As Bucky’s eyes were seeing everything that was happening in front of him, his thoughts about her were slowly coming together. She and her powers were still a mystery to him, the more he spent time with her the more he found out. And this time, he had one thing to add to the list: her saying “I can burn everything that’s on your mind without moving a finger” wasn’t a lie after all.

“Everyone out!” The man yelled after regaining his feet on the floor and started to push everyone out of the way. “Now!” His loud tone could be heard on top of the music gaining some looks from the people dancing. Proudly walking inside that tiny VIP area, Sam, Sera and Bucky stood in front of the man as he sat down once again on his throne, trying to gain his confidence and thoughts back. “Seraphina Thompson. I’ve heard stories about you... I should’ve guessed you were going to come here.”

“And why is that?” Sera asked as she crossed her arms around her chest.

“My name is Zaha and I’m a smart man. Enough to know that I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

“You know where you can stick your apology-”

“Sera.” Sam stopped her gaining her eyes on him. “We’re not here to get ourselves into trouble, remember? We just want to talk.” Sera rolled her eyes and went silent, letting Sam take over the conversation. “We need to talk about a guy that calls himself The Red Wolf.”

“I’m sorry. But what makes you think I know about him?”

“Rumours has is that one of his guys worked here for you, and we need to know if you’ve seen or heard about him.”

“I’m sorry... but I don’t. I’ve never heard that nickname before.” Sera squinted her eyes and took a deep breath in, noticing the guy moving uncomfortably on his seat.

“You sure about that?” Bucky said and for the looks of it, he seemed to have caught the same thing as Sera.

“Yes, I am sure. Otherwise I don’t know why I would hide information from you guys.”

“You call yourself smart but you lie about having information,” Bucky said “and I don’t think that’s very smart of you, Mr. Zaha.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Oh, I think you are.” Sera spitted out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be moving in your seat nervously like you’re doing right now. If you don’t have anything to hide, then don’t be nervous.”

“Oh, I think he is very nervous.” Bucky agreed, getting closer to Zaha.

He crossed his legs to hide his heart beating faster but unlucky for him, nothing passes unnoticed for Sam, Bucky and Sera.

“Nervous like a little chihuahua.” Sam said jokingly. “Shaking like you need to pee right now. Do you need to pee Mr. Zaha? Or that brain of yours is hiding something important and that’s why you’re shaking like a little baby?”

“I think is the second option, Sam,” Bucky said firmly “so you better be smart about this.”

It was obvious that Zaha was caught off guard and didn’t expect to face someone like them on that night. Sera knew that he was a man that liked to be feared and not the one being threatened, so trying to gain control of the situation he let out a grin and tilted his head slowly to the side. “And you are, Mr...?”

“You don’t want to find out.” Bucky said quickly, not wanting to deal with Zaha’s twisted mind.

“Not to be rude or anything,” Zaha said slowly while while pointing at Bucky with his long finger “but why are you the one with the job of intimidation?” He let out a grin and then slowly turned towards Sera, who furrowed her eyebrows angrily. “Don’t you two think that is better to use the girl with fire in her eyes?”

Before Sam or Sera could say anything, Bucky quickly walked towards Zaha and punched the side of his throne making a loud noise once his hands touched the sit and for Zaha to lock eyes with him and regain the fear on his eyes.

“Don’t look at her, look at me.” Bucky said firmly with his jaw clenched and his killing eyes on Zaha. “You better speak and tell us what you know because you don’t want to be on my bad side.”

Sera noticed his big arms under that black jacket he had and felt how her stomach turned once the need of touching them appeared on her mind. Unintentionally, she widen her eyes at the surprise of Bucky feeling angry once again. But this time, Sera wasn’t angry too, this time she felt the hotness growing inside of her as the butterflies were going crazy inside of her stomach. He looked attractive and her mind wasn’t going to let it pass.

So lost in her thoughts, Sera didn’t notice the metal arm showing once Bucky moved closer to Zaha. Before she could do something about it, Zaha moved his eyes towards it since it made a different noise than the other hand. Realising the dark grey color Bucky had on his arm, his eyes went wide open as his back touched the back of his seat, clearly intimidated of what he had in front of him.

“You’re the winter soldier... and you” Zaha turned to Sam, immediately recognising him “you’re the falcon.” Bucky stepped back as Zaha was going back and forth between them all with shook in his eyes. “Seraphina Thompson with the falcon and the winter soldier?”

“Now you see the trouble you’re in?” Sam said nodding his head.

“I knew... The Red Wolf.” Zaha said finally after a couple of seconds and looking down at the floor. “He used to make his reunions here.”

“Why used to?” Sera asked.

“I don’t know. He suddenly stopped needing the place. I- I never stepped inside one of his meetings because he didn’t allow it.” He looked up waiting for one of them to talk but receiving not words he sighed and shook his head. “He is a very dangerous man. And has so many people behind him- even I was impressed. I knew who he was but I never knew or tried to understand what he was planning to do. To be quite honest, I was terrified, truly terrified, when he came here I moved myself out of the way. He once asked me to give one of his men a job here so I did. And that’s it. So, I’m sorry but I can’t help you more.”

“So you let a man have his meetings here for a long time but you don’t know anything about him?” Bucky asked. “It sounds like bullshit.”

“Sera do you smell that?” Sam asked and Sera quickly smelled the air and nodded. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not! I’m telling you the truth.”

“Sounds to me like you’re a coward.” Bucky let out slowly as he was getting closer.

Noticing his eyes on Bucky’s metal arm, Sera let out a tiny grin and slightly tilted her head to the side. “What? Afraid of a little metal arm?”

Bucky let his hands rest on the side of his chair to get his face closer to his, feeling the fear growing inside of Zaha. “Talk.”

“That’s all I-”

“Talk, before you make me lose my patience.”

“I’m being serious! That’s all I know!”

Bucky said something else but Sera didn’t hear it. As soon as he said his next words Sera felt how they slowly faded away as the electricity ran through her veins. She closed her eyes feeling her eyes burn and her throat feeling up with hot air.

“Sam-” She said almost in a whisper but it was enough since Sam worryingly turned to her and quickly walked towards her to grab her shoulder.

“Sera? Are you alright?” He asked but as soon as she locked eyes with him, he understood.

“Something’s wrong.” The second she said those words the sound of a bullet entering the room his their ears and soon ended up inside Zaha’s head, immediately making his body to fly backwards as the blood was pouring from his forehead and slowly covering the floor around him.

Realising what just happened, Bucky turned around to lock eyes with Sera. But when another thing caught his eyes, he immediately ran towards her as the sound of bullets being shot hit his ears. Without hesitating, Bucky covered her body and lifted his metal arm to stop any bullet quickly flying her way.

As Sam threw himself out of the way, Sera closed her eyes once Bucky turned her to the side and with strength pushed her against the wall to cover themselves from the thousands of bullets going their way.

Ignoring the pain Sera was feeling on her back from hitting the wall, she locked eyes with Bucky who seemed to have glued himself in front of her. Their eyes were locked to each other with no intention to move them away. Their faces were so close that their chests would almost touch the moment they filled their lungs with air. Sera widen her eyes at the realisation that Bucky just saved her body from ending covered in bullets.

Even if the loud noises around them were still going, Bucky and Sera didn’t take their eyes away from each other, until Sam quickly ran towards them to cover his body the same way Sera and Bucky were doing.

“Would you two mind stopping with the whole staring thing and help me?! Because I don’t think Mr. Zaha has the intention to do so now!” Sam yelled after taking the gun out of the back of his jeans and trying to hit anyone that had the intentions to kill them.

Going back to reality and what was happening next to her, Sera moved Bucky out the way the moment he took out the guy he had on his back. Feeling the fire on her fingertips grow Sera moved her feet towards the bullets and ignored the big yell of her name coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Lifting her hands to her side the second her eyes turned red, a wall fire started growing in front of her making the bullets towards her, Sam and Bucky melt the instant they touched the burning wall Sera had created.

Bucky seeing what Sera was doing and the second he took off the shook out of his face, he ran towards Sam who was now standing next to the wall of fire with his chest going quickly up and down. He turned to look at Bucky who was still surprised at the way Sera and her red eyes were handling the situation, something that he had never seen anyone do before.

The sound of the melted bullets hitting the floor were now hitting their ears. “I guess she can do a little more than turn into a torch.” Bucky said with his eyes locked on her. When the bullets stopped going through the wall, Bucky lifted his gun ready to face whatever was coming even if it felt like Sera had everything covered. And she did.

Without waiting another second, moving her hands to the ceiling she closed them into fists to feel the burning sensation growing inside her palm. Her chest was filled with hot air as the smoke was quickly coming out of her skin. Silence surrounded the room, but then, quicker as another bullet trying to get through, Sera opened her hands and with a loud noise left the fire of the wall fly like a pheonix towards the man with big guns trying to kill them, making them all fly toward the wall and end up unconscious on the floor, with nothing more than empty gun and burning marks on their skins.

Feeling her hands going back to normal, she turned around to Sam and Bucky who were standing behind her with their eyes locked on the guys at the floor with furrowed eyebrows. Sera did a little smile and shrugged her shoulders once she gained their eyes on her, doing a thumbs up and nodding. “We’re cool now.” She said before turning around and leaving the VIP area to join the now empty dance floor.

“Yeah, more than a torch.” Sam said softly before leaving a confused and still surprised Bucky behind.

“Now what?” Sera asked once she had her two partners by her side on that empty room with lights going all sorts of crazy.

Before Sam or Bucky could say anything, the sound of a door opening hit their ears letting them notice the now four guys with big guns going their way. “I guess is fighting those assholes.” Sam said before they all ran towards a big white column to hide their bodies behind it.

Expecting to hear more bullets going their way, Sera made her hands burn making fire grow out of them, but before she could move her hands to her side, a big ball of fire hitting the side of the column made them all jump backwards as both Bucky and Sam looked at a very confused Sera.

“What the fuck was that?!” Bucky asked.

“Did they cloned you or some shit?!” As Sam asked that questions, Sera looked at her hands glowing and spitting fire, she closed her eyes the second an ugly old memory game back to her head.

“Can’t be.” She said moving her head to the side to have a better look at the men with black suits and big guns on their hands. But they weren’t normal guns... they were white and were as big as their whole torsos combined. It had red lines on each side that Sera knew they glow everytime they charged. The little sound of fire it made when it threw the ball fire hit Sera’s ears once again making her move Sam and Bucky out of the way by pushing them and hitting their backs to the wall by their left.

“What is that and where can I get one!?” Sam asked when another fire ball hit the white and big column.

“It’s a fire arm!” Sera yelled moving the fire growing towards them.

“Yeah no shit, Sera!” Bucky yelled putting off the little ball of fire by his side with his foot. “What do we do now?”

“We need to make a plan!” Sam yelled. “Bucky go left and I go right while Sera stops the fire-!” He was yelling but then shut his mouth when Bucky and Sera completely ignored what he was saying and started to walk towards the big guns throwing fire. “Why the hell did you ask?!” Sam asked but then went back to the wall once another ball of fire went his way.

“This fucking shoes!” Sera yelled feeling the pain on her toes and ankles the second after she moved the fire going towards her and Bucky by her side.

“Give them to me.” Bucky said and without questioning it, Sera lifted her foot and took of the heel and handed the two pairs of shoes to Bucky. As her eyes were slowly following Bucky’s move, she saw how he moved his metal arm backwards and how the shoe left his hand the second his hand passed his head.

Without giving Sera a moment to react, her other shoe was already flying towards another man, ending up inside his eye. Sera’s eyes were seeing how the blood started to pour out of their eyes as slowly as a tear going down their cheeks. “I always knew you could use a heel as a weapon.” Sera said surprised. But that tiny moment didn’t last long since she felt another ball of fire going her way. Lifting her hands to her side she quickly stopped it and pushed it away, making a big explosion and taking down the other men in front of her in the process.

Bullets hitting her ear Sera turned to her side and noticed Sam behind the counter trying to hit the man now going towards him. With quick steps, Bucky walked passed her ready to take the man down. Seeing how the gun he had on his hands was glowing, Bucky stopped with the intention to move to the side and avoid the big ball of fire wanting to burn him. But before it even had the chance, the second it was out of the big white gun, the big ball of fire quickly moved backwards like someone pushed it, making the man fly backwards and hit the wall behind him.

Bucky turned back to see Sera with a little smile on her face as her eyes were slowly going back to normal. “Uno reverse card, bitch.” She said as she was getting closer to Bucky and Sam, who were now standing side by side.

“Having fun?” Sam asked out of breath while Sera was barely different from when the fight started.

“Is it wrong if I say yes?” She answered cheekily. Eating the laugh that came out of Sera’s mouth, the front door opened letting them see another man entering with, this time, an ever bigger weapon. “Holy shit.” Sera said with shook in her eyes.

“Still having fun?” Bucky asked gaining a mean look from Sera.

Without giving them a second to breathe, another big ball of fire was flying towards them but Sera moving in front of Bucky and Sam lifted her hands into the air and quickly stopped it. Feeling the fire inside of her hands and her eyes burning with desire, she pushed the fire towards the wall by her side making a big loud noise in the process.

Punches were being thrown out, bullets flying as well as fire growing each second around Bucky, Sam and Sera. Neither of them expected to end the night like that, or even why they were in that situation to begin with.

After moving another ball fire going her way, feeling her arms getting tired she moved to the side and let her back rest on the wall as the bullets leaving their guns was hitting her ears. She slightly moved her head to see better what was happening as she heard Sam yelling for Bucky. They needed her. She felt her heart beating faster as she saw how Bucky and Sam were struggling to keep up the fight. Her breathing was going quicker as the sound around her was fading away and her sight was becoming blurrier. Her fingertips felt the burning sensation as her eyes wanted to close. But trying her hardest, she moved towards Sam and Bucky to lift her hands and enter the fire about to burn them into her body.

The scene in front of her getting blurrier and blurrier as the seconds were passing, seeing the fire around her and being thrown at her became even more harder. She didn’t know what was happening or how to stop it. Moving her head side to side to see if Bucky and Sam were alright, she felt how her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. Bucky was struggling when three men were grabbing his arm with strength. Sam, by her other side, was still hiding behind the counter trying to move himself out of the way were fire was growing everywhere around him.

With the intention to move, Sera tried to lift her foot but it felt like it was heavier than ever. The pain in her legs turned into feeling like she was glued to the floor down her. The burning on her hands was stronger but nothing seemed to want to come out of it as her eyes hurt like something had stabbed them a second ago. Her head was pounding while she noticed the noise around her was slowly fading away. No bullets, no fire, no voices but complete silence... until she felt something grabbing her neck and pulling her to the ground as she felt an electric sensation against her neck making her breathing cut short and her eyes to fully close, stopping her from feeling anything else and fall unconscious on the floor.

Bucky’s foot quickly flew towards one of the guys’ knee making him quickly fall into the ground. Able to free himself from one of them, he threw his head backwards to hit the guy behind him in the forehead. Having one guy left, he just lifted his hand and quickly punched the guy in the face, leaving three men now in the floor next to him. Wanting to look for his friends, Bucky looked up and noticed Sam trying to fight a man but quickly shooting him to the ground. Nodding once they locked eyes with each other, with the same intention they both looked around looking for the third member of their team. But once they both saw the same thing, it made their quick feet ran towards a Sera laying on the floor with four men around her. But before any of them could make another move, a strange electric feeling hit their skin making them soon fall to the floor.

Feeling his body shake against the floor, Bucky’s eyes were still glued to Sera as his heart dropped to his stomach. “Sera!” He tried to yell but it came out nothing more than a loud whisper with so much pain in it.

“Look at you.... the winter soldier.” Bucky heard with a joking tone as he was laying in the floor. “What a pity.” Soon after a sound of someone spitting by his side hit his ears and then steps moving away.

As her skin was moving uncomfortably on the floor, he managed to keep his eyes on Sera. The way that a man grabbed her body and lifted her on his shoulders like she was bag of some sort, made his inside burn with anger. He felt how his heavy body was starting to hurt him and getting tired the more he spent on the floor with his eyes stuck on one side of the room.

“What are you gonna do now, Winter Soldier?” A guy yelled kneeling down before letting out the biggest laugh ever, shaking the walls around him. “We’re going to have fun with her. Don’t worry.” He said after getting up and letting out another smile seeing how Bucky still couldn’t get up from the floor.

Following the men with his eyes, Bucky felt how his brain was screaming at him to move and save her. But nothing seemed to be working, the electric feeling against his skin was still shaking his body slowly and keeping anything else from hearing the commands his brain was yelling.

Shaking Sera jokingly, the man that just talked to Bucky turned her head and said something that Bucky couldn’t hear. There was nothing he could do about it, they were taking her God knows where and were planning on doing terrible things to her while Bucky couldn’t even get up to try and save her. He felt useless while the pain inside of him was growing as they were taking Sera further and further away out of the building.

Suddenly, when he gain full attention of his heart beating faster he immediately felt something falling from his eyes towards his cheek. He tensed his teeth together while the pain became tighter around his chest and heart. His breathing was cutting short when the air became thicker around him. Closing his eyes when he heard the front door closing and seeing that Sera was no longer inside the building, hearing his breathing was the only thing he could hear next. The thick air, his heavy stomach and the pain inside his chest were growing each second that was passing as a single tear drop was going down his cheek. She was gone. They took her and Bucky couldn’t save her. That was just... it.

>>>

A strong headache appeared on Sera’s head the second she opened her eyes and the white strong light troubled her eyes. She squinted them as they were wondering around the room. It was as white as the light itself and had nothing but the chair she was sitting on and a giant black window in front of her. A tight feeling around her wrist made her realize that she was wrapped at the chair as well as her ankles. The coldness on her neck and being unable to move her head far backwards, she noticed a thick metal necklace covering her neck with a red light that would turn on and off constantly.

The memories before she closed her eyes were slowly coming to her the more she found herself in that room. The fire around her, her burning eyes and... her blurry sight. She still didn’t understand why she felt like that and why couldn’t she control herself. Her heavy body was now gone but she still felt a slightly electric feeling on her neck.

With the intention to move her fingers to feel the burning sensation in them, she took her full attention towards them, but as soon as she tried the white giant door by her left side quickly opened to let her see that ugly face she hated seeing.

“Jackson.” She said angrily as he let out a tiny smile once he closed the door behind him. He had his same long red coat and brown shiny boots. It didn’t matter to the old man that he had a powerful woman like Sera under his power, he still took the time to look good. “I should’ve guessed it was you.”

“Why?” Jackson asked while slowly walking towards her with his hands behind his back. “Because I am the only one who can defeat you?”

“No,” Sera quickly nodded as a grin started to grow on her lips “because I can smell the rotten fish from here.”

Instead of saying something back, Jackson just let out a tiny smile and got even closer to her face. Seeing every detail on his eyes, Sera felt the blood in her veins move faster as his lips were becoming even more into a bigger smile. “Nice to see you again, Sera. And not with those two.”

“Where are they?” She asked moving her body towards him making a loud noise as the chair moved with her.

Seeing how Sera clenched her jawline and the anger Jackson loved so much to see in her eyes, he moved backwards and let out yet another smile. “You really care about them... don’t you?” Not wanting to get an answer from her, Jackson took another step closer and added: “One thing at a time, dear, one thing at a time.”

“Yeah, and the first thing I’ll do is burn everything to the ground.”

“Ah. There she is. I missed you.” Jackson grabbed her chin with strength taking her head backwards as her eyes were burning with anger while looking at him. “But you need to be careful with what you do, dear. I want you to see something. You’re going to love it.” With the same strength as he was holding her, he let go of her chin making her move her head to the side and immediately feel the pain on her skin the moment he let go.

Following Jackson with her eyes, she noticed how his hand went inside his pocket and slowly took out a small controller with a bunch of different color buttons on it. “See this? This, can do a lot of things.” He arrived next to the window and let out a tiny smile while pointing at the blackness next to him. “First of all...” he pressed a button and Sera saw how it quickly turned the lights from the other room. Being the light so bright, Sera squinted her eyes and looked down trying to cover her eyes from the strong and bright light.

But when curiosity became even stronger than the pain she was feeling, she looked up and immediately widened her eyes. The moment she saw those blonde hairs and those green eyes her heart dropped to her stomach. “Angela.” Sera whispered making her throat hurt. Red scratches covered her lips and arms making Sera feel some tears fighting to come out. Her heavy dark bags under her eyes made it seem like she hadn’t slept for days.

Angela, being kneeled down on the floor with chains covering her wrists, looked up and made her face and body even more visible. Realising the shook in her eyes, Sera noticed that she could see her when they both locked eyes with each other. Her skinny lips turned into a smile as soon as her eyes realised that the person she was looking at was Sera, but then noticed Jackson standing in the other room as well, she erased it and rolled her eyes moving her scratched body to the side.

Feeling the anger and pain of seeing her friend all hurt grew inside of her as her fingertips were staring to feel their burning in them. A slight noise hit the room as Sera filled her lungs with fire and tried to free herself, but before she could let anything out, she felt a strong electric shook in her neck, making her body go back to normal and let out nothing but smoke out.

“And that, my dear, is the second thing this controller does. See that fashionable necklace I gave you? Yes, this little thing does the trick but, oh boy, that is the thing that could destroy you. So, if I were you, I would check my options and keep those beautiful fingertips still. We don’t want your sight to her blurry again before you fall on the floor, do we?”

“What do you want?” Sera asked with a firm tone once her neck recovered from the electric shook.

“What do I want?” Jackson asked getting closer to Sera. “I want you, of course.”

“Me?”

“Yeah...” He said softly. “To help me, of course. Like you did years ago.”

“I’m not that same person I was years ago, so fuck off.”

“Oh, language, please.” Jackson said disgusted arriving closer to Sera and stopping right in front of her body. “The old you is still there,” he pointed at her chest “I know it.”

“You don’t know shit, Jackson. You think you do, but you don’t. You want to control something that you can’t.”

“Well, I did controlled you, didn’t I?” He asked softly enjoying the look of Sera’s eyes.

She remembered all those old memories like it was the other day. Her old self being by Jackson’s side and doing whatever his mouth let out. Burning, exploding, tortuning.... it was horrible for her to recall all of those things. Knowing that she was no longer than person was what kept her going, but being in front of him asking her for help, made it more difficult to forget and not get affected by them as they were slowly coming back.

“You were happy, Sera. What happened?” Jackson asked slowly.

“I wasn’t. You manipulated me, you used me. You saw my pain so you took your chance to use what I can do-”

“But, yet, you did them. No questions asked. I never pointed a gun to your head. Did I? Don’t make excuses for the things that you did, dear.”

“I’m not. Believe me. I’ve spent years regretting and trying to forget what I did.”

Jackson stopped for a moment while a little smile grew on his lips. “Yes, with Mr. Wilson, am I right?”

Sera felt her chest close up as his mouth let out his name. “Don’t talk about him. Go to your point, Jackson, what is it exactly that you want from me?”

Seeing how Jackson lifted the controller and got ready to press another button, Sera furrowed her eyebrows as she was waiting for his next words. But before he did, the little noise of the button being pressed hit her ears and soon after, the door quickly opened. “I want you to make me more, Sera.”

Tables and more tables with the same weapons that Sera saw before collapsing on the floor were entering room. She slowly wondered the room and shook her head before turning once again to lock eyes with a proud Jackson staring at her like he was staring at her soul.

“What do you say, Sera? Just like the old days?”

“Like the old days-” Sera closed her eyes with strength while shaking her head. “This is insane, Jackson! Even for you!” The moment she opened her eyes Jackson was closer that made her able to see the desire and craziness now building inside his eyes.

“Sera, you and me together; we could rule the world. We would be unstoppable. If you make me more I can take down those asshole that want me dead and then make the underground mine. And after that, make the whole world mine. If you help me, if you give those weapons the energy they need to breath out fire it’s going to happen. I could be the king. And you... can be my queen, right by my side.”

Sera moved her head backwards and slowly shook her head while her eyes wondered the room once again, shook of what she was hearing and seeing. “Jackson. You want to play with something that’s way more complicated than you think. Understanding how this works isn’t something as easy as knowing how to build those weapons. It was comes after.” Seeing the anger and disappointment growing on his eyes, Sera moved closer to his face and whispered loudly: “Fire is catching. And if you play with it when you can’t control it... you’ll burn.”

“Well, I controlled you and I didn’t burn, did I?” He asked with the some tone but with anger before walking backwards and grabbing the controller once again. “And if I can make you remember, I have something that is going to make you help me, dear.” Jackson pointed at Angela who was confusingly watching every single weapon that there was in the room. Noticing that everyone was looking at her, she turned to lock eyes with Sera and let out a tiny smile even if her eyes screamed the pain she was feeling inside and out. “If you don’t help me, I can make her eyes go blurry.... like yours did. But I don’t think someone as weak as her can take it. So you better think it twice.”

Sera didn’t move her eyes from Angela. She saw how after giving her a smile, she went over to Jackson and flipped him off when he turned to her. Him, letting out a long angry sigh, went back to staring at Sera and tilted his head to the side, enjoying having the upper hand on her and the defeated look on her face.

‘I’m sorry’ Sera mouthed at Angela who slowly shook her head with a confused smile. Not wanting to look at her in the eyes anymore, she turned to Jackson and said the words she would never expected to say ever again: “I’ll help you.”

>>>

The trees were passing on Bucky’s window as the car was moving on the road. He had his elbow touching the door while his hand was against his lips holding his heavy head. The only noise surrounding the car was the sound of it running and the beeping coming from Sam’s phone.

After both, Sam and Bucky, gained control of their bodies they ran out of the building to see if they could notice anything that could lead them to Sera. But the whole street was as empty as the club inside. No noise, no black car, not even people walking around. The wind was the only thing they noticed moving around them.

Bucky found himself walking backwards and moving his metal hand with speed towards the wall behind him, hitting it with strength and making a big whole in the process. Feeling his breathing getting heavier as the anger grew inside of him, he closed his eyes with strength while his mind was trying to think of his next move.

He had no idea where they could’ve taken her, or even if she was still on the ground or on a plane going somewhere. His brain was empty as his chest became even more tighter and his heart wanted to jump out of his body. He opened his eyes to see Sam standing right next to him with his eyes glued to his phone screen typing something as fast as his fingers let him. Confused on what he was doing, he got closer to him but as soon as he arrived to his side, Sam blocked his phone and started walking away, quickly being followed by Bucky.

“So how exactly is this thing going to take us to Sera?” Bucky asked with a raspy voice once he looked at the phone, seeing how it had a tiny map in it and had a big red circle beeping every two seconds.

“A couple of years ago, when I used to work with Sera, I installed a tracker on her phone because there were times where she would...” Sam stopped and Bucky noticed that he was struggling on deciding if he should keep talking or just stop right there, but then when a tiny sigh came out of his mouth, he continued: “Look, our story is way more complicated than I could ever let you know. And if ever let you know, she has to say yes first. It’s her decision.”

“What is it about it that it’s such a big thing for you to ask her permission?”

“It’s complicated, Bucky, like I told you. It’s more of her story than mine, that’s why.” Bucky looked to the window a million of questions were flying around his head. Was it something bad? That questioned seemed to eat his brain the most. It wasn’t like Bucky’s past was clean and he was worried of thinking bad of her if he knew, his past was the dirtiest of them all, the wonder and the curiosity was the thing that was surrounding his brain. Why was it so important that Sam didn’t want to tell him?

“I get it.” Bucky said. “Believe me, I do. It’s not like I have the cleanest past.”

“Look, remember the first where she stayed with us? The one where we told her to wait?” Bucky nodded, as he looked at Sam remembering what Sera told him about Sam seeing it before. “It used to happen a lot back then, but even worse than the one we saw. She would take more minutes to calm herself down, make bigger shields around her to the point where we couldn’t even be close to her. It was ugly, Bucky.”

“Why, Sam? What makes her do that?”

“She comes from a hard life. Even if she acts like she doesn’t, the worst scenario that could happen to a person happened to her. After that, she went through even more terrible things. The point is, when those moments were over, she would usually end up in places far, far away.” Sam said. “That’s why I decided to install this tracker, I never told her because I knew she was going to hate it. But that was the only option I had back then.”

“And that’s how you knew where she was after all those years.” Sam nodded as Bucky let out sigh and added: “Good thing you thought of it, then.” He let out a tiny smile and turned to his window once again.

Even if some of the questions Bucky had on his mind were answered, he still felt as confused as the moment he started to wonder about her. Thousand of ideas were growing on his head as the seconds were passing. Not knowing the real story was eating him on the inside and making him even more nervous. He moved on his seat uncomfortably as his foot started to move up and down with speed. The minutes didn’t seem to pass as they where moving and that made the blood in his veins to rush.

Noticing this, Sam did a quick look to Bucky and his nervous actions. That wasn’t something normal on him, feeling anxious and showing it. He would always hide what was going on that brain of his carefully managing every movement he did. He was good at it. He was trained to be good at it. Even if his mind wasn’t the one that it used to, he still had everything he learned inside of him. So to be this out and about with his emotions, it had to be something big.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Sam asked ending the silence between them. Bucky, instead of turning to Sam and denying it, he stayed in silence and let out a tiny sigh. Maybe he did.

The memory of how his body felt when his eyes were seeing those men taking her away... made his chest tighten and feel his heart beating a little bit faster than usual. His throat closed up making it harder for him to say something to Sam. Like his cheek had a memory of it self, he felt how the invisible tear dropped down from his cheek while his mind was replaying Sera’s body being carried out. She knew this girl in less than a week but had him feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He found himself caring about her, wanting to protect her like she was his.... Bucky knew that Sera didn’t need a protection, she proved more than capable of taken care of herself multiple times, but for the way his body and mind were acting, that didn’t matter to Bucky, he still felt the need to make sure she was fine until her last breath.

“She’s going to be fine, Bucky.” Sam said softly gaining Bucky’s attention.

Locking eyes with Sam, he nodded and let out a tiny smile not wanting to worry Sam with his millions of questions inside his brain. And weird enough, a big noise coming from a far helped him do that. As soon as the noise hit their ears, they both turned to the the road to see a big explosion going off, fire surrounded trees as big piece of smoke was flying upwards towards the sky. Like they were thinking the same thing, they both turned to Sam’s phone and noticed that the big red circle was closer than they expected.

“I think we found her.” Sam said softly, quickly turning the car towards the side of road after checking if anyone was coming, ready to follow the fire slowly growing around the forest.

>>>

“C’mon, Angela, get up.”

As the smoke around her was getting bigger and thicker, fire was growing and building up every second, Sera quickly ran towards her friend and grabbed her arm to help her get up. She noticed the weapons all now destroyed and some men also laying on the ground, but Jackson was nowhere to be seen.

Since the moment Sera saw those weapons get into the room, her little plan started working inside her head. She saw the opportunity and knew that she was going to take it. So, when Jackson pushed the little button to take that thick eletric necklace out of her neck and slowly took it off her, she looked up and immediately felt her eyes burning with desire as her hands touched the cold metal of the weapons.

“How-?” Angela asked after coughing the smoke out of lungs. “How did you do that? I thought you were going to help them.”

“That asshole wants to control fire but doesn’t even take the time to understand it.” She said while getting Angela’s arm around her shoulders to help her walking. “If I can give that piece of crap the amount of energy to work, I can also give it the energy to self destruct and explode. C’mon, let’s go.”

Covering Angela’s mouth with her own shirt to prevent her from breathing in the smoke around her, they both walked outside the room to find their way out of that building. Wondering with her eyes, Sera looked to her left and noticed a light coming from a tiny window surrounded by fire. But that wasn’t a problem for her. Moving her feet towards the window, she moved the flames to the side making a tiny path for her and Angela to walk through. Once close to it, she lifted her other hand that wasn’t holding her friend and as she felt the burning on her palm, she moved it with speed and threw a ball of fire to break the glass and finally, leave the burning building behind.

“C’mon, watch your step.” Sera said as Angela was carefully jumping the window and dropping to the other side.

Trees on fire and more smoke was the only thing Sera noticed the moment her shoes touched the grass. She looked around and realised the where both in the middle of the forest, there was nothing else than trees and bushes around them. But getting away from the fire to keep Angela safe was the only thing Sera wanted to do, so without waiting another second, Sera wrapped Angela’s arm around her shoulders once again and started to walk away, leaving pieces of smoke behind her.

“Wow, ok, so let me get this straight.” Angela started saying with her heavy breathing as they were both carefully walking besides the tall trees. “You have super powers. You can control fire and explode things... am I right?”

“And other things, but yes.”

“Alright! Cool, cool, cool, cool. That’s just... oh my god, that’s wild Sera! All this time since I’ve known you?” Sera nodded. “What the fuck?!” She yelled but then regretted it since a strong pain appeared on her stomach. “Fuck. I mean,” she said softly “you, fire, that’s crazy! And that man? What’s your story with him? Did you work with him? Is he bad? Angela, of course he’s bad! He trapped you for days to get to Sera! Of course! So, ok, Sera equals super powers. Then bad guy takes me to find Sera and make her do shit that’s bad. Ok, I got it. Then, Sera, a badass, explodes the entire building so we can escape. Sounds good?”

“You know, for being trapped in a horrible room for days you do have the energy to talk a lot.” Sera said and then soon heard Angela let out a tiny laugh, which lead to Sera’s chest fill with relief since her friend was alright and it was starting to hit her.

“Yeah. I mean if you just found your roommate for almost a year has super powers, you would too!”

Sera let out a tiny laugh but then quickly shook her head. “It’s not that amazing.”

“Sera! Are you kidding me, of course it is! You made an entire building blow up! Ouch- fuck.”

“Are you alright?” Sera asked once she looked to her friend, noticing her hand on her stomach. “We can stop if you want.”

“No, we need to get out of here. I trust you and your amazing powers, but those assholes can come after us any minute. C’mon.”

After feeling like they’ve been walking for long minutes, Sera and Angela both smiled when they started to hear the sound of cars moving along on the road. But the moment Sera moved her foot to keep walking, the sound of people walking behind them made her turn around with speed and fill her hands with fire and her dark eyes to turn red.

“Sera! It’s us!”

“Bucky?” She asked making her hands go back to normal as well as her eyes. Once she locked her sight with Bucky’s, a wave of safeness ran through her body.

“And you have hot friends too?!” Angela asked in a loud whisper by her side making her let out a tiny laugh and erase the feeling Bucky just gave her, saving it in a little box along with the others.

“Sam. How did you find me?”

“That’s a long story for later, now we need to get the hell out of here because-” Sam was saying but then the sound of a group of people running towards them cut him off. Turning around, they all noticed the men with weapons ready to fight them all. Sera took of Angela’s arm and walked closer to Sam, before he turned around to look at her once again “well, because those douche bags were following us.”

“Sam, Bucky, you need to take Angela to the car and keep her safe. Leave and don’t look back, I got this.” Before Sam could let out a word, Sera talked again “C’mon, you know better than anyone I can handle it.”

Sam took a second but then nodded, taking Angela’s arm and turning around, ready to follow what Sera told her.

“I’m not leaving you.” Bucky said walking in front of her. “I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

“Bucky, go!” She tried to push him by touching his chest, but barely moving Bucky turned to the men walking towards them and ignored the angry Sera by his side. “Bucky.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Sera.” His firm tone made her realise he wasn’t going to change his mind and having no more time left, she let out a big angry sigh and turned to the side ready to face the fight coming her way. With her eyes, she counted the amount of men in front of her and as soon as the number ‘15’ appeared on her mind, she turned to Bucky and whispered “Regret staying now?” But got no response, he just tilted his head to crack his neck and moved his metal arm, preparing his body to help Sera and end that fight once and for all.

From the moment that the first shot was fired and Sera stopped it, neither of them stopped moving. Sera moving her hands left and right, filling their surroundings with flames, destroying or exploding the weapons along side the men holding them. Bucky, with his quick feet would make his way towards each men by the right side, avoiding balls of fire and using his strength to take every guy to the floor by only one punch. Soon after, they both find themselves with three guys left.

Feeling Bucky by his side, Sera locked eyes with him and nodded when Bucky grabbed the knife from his back pocket and quickly moving it between his fingers. Lifting her hand towards Bucky, she carefully lit up her fingers and as soon as Bucky’s knife left his hand, she took full control of it and moved it towards the men with the intention to hit three of them at the same time. And just like she wanted, as the fire was leaving her hand she moved the knife and with a quick move of her wrist she saw how the tiny metal object hit one, then another one, and final, the other men lined in front her, taking them all to the ground in less than three seconds.

“Good throw.” Bucky said while nodding with approval which lead to Sera just shrugging her shoulders and letting out a tiny smile.

“I had a little bit of help.”

“A little bit?” Bucky said offended, but that little banter didn’t last long since Sera felt that electric feeling against her skin and soon faced forward to see the big ball of fire going with speed towards her.

Before she could lift her hands to stop it, a big yell coming from Bucky’s mouth hit her ears making her turn around with worry. But what she feared to see didn’t happen, instead, a quick Bucky was now in front of her seconds away to get hit by the fire flying ready to burn him.

Everything after that turned like a slow motion movie for both of them. The flames hitting his skin and the pain on his face made her eyes widen and get watery at the sight of it. As fast as her feet could allow her, she moved towards him and quickly placed herself in front of him immediately feeling the fire hitting her skin in every single place of her body. She touched his shoulder and closed her eyes with strength, ready to do one of the hardest thing she ever learned to do.

Bucky as soon as he felt the burning sensation against him, he closed his eyes with clenched teeth feeling the strong pain now growing on his body. Not being able to bare it anymore, he let out a loud scream in pain but soon after, like a quick wave of water had hit him, he suddenly stopped feeling that irritating pain. Opening his to see what was happening, he met hers. Her red eyes were staring at his while tears were dripping down her cheeks. Her hair was moving around her uncomfortably as her glowing skin was making her body shine.

From the corner of his eyes Bucky noticed the fire still going around him, but he wasn’t burning. His eyes were still glued to hers trying to understand what she was doing, he suddenly felt how her fingers on his free hand started to tingle so he looked down to find his skin... glowing. Just like Sera, his skin started to glow the same color as the fire around them. The tingle feeling was now all over his body expect on his metal arm which seemed to be the only thing that didn’t change since the fire hit him.

Looking back to Sera, the moment that they both stared at each other was when a strange feeling appeared on their insides. It felt like they were connecting, he felt like he could read all of her thoughts as she could read his. A second later, Sera moved her hand to Bucky’s cheek and pressed her palm with strength agains his skin to feel every single part of him on her.

Their hearts felt like they were beating as one with the same rhythm, their veins were twisting together like cables as their blood were mixing to become just one. Those feelings felt so strange but real at the same time. Their glowing bodies were becoming one as the fire that had went inside Bucky was slowly flying out. Suddenly, like the slow movie that was happening they both felt everything come undone when Sera lifted her hands and let the explosion that was building inside her body finally come out.

Once the noise was gone and there was nothing but silence surrounding them, they both opened their eyes to find themselves lying on the floor with smoke trying to get inside their bodies. Their eyes locked as their heavy breathing was moving their chest up and down.

Bucky felt so confused at what just happened that he sat down and stared at his surroundings noticing nothing but fire around him. Going back to Sera, he saw how her body was going back to normal and her red eyes were turning dark once again. She knew what just happened and he couldn’t wait to ask her, but nothing seem to want to go out their mouths.

Their connection was all they could think about. The way their bodies became one and everything they felt. Even if Bucky was confused and had no idea what just happened, he knew one thing: that was definitely not a nothing.

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