#white-knuckling the bathroom sink: 'we are going to be KIND. we are going to be CORDIAL. even when it SUCKS.

[hellpupp]

how does one Stop being at "bitch eating crackers" tier annoyed w/ someone's existence when simply removing them from your life isn't possible w/o other major social sacrifices you aren't willing to make

[ghoulphile]

it's always the quiet ones | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | pre-war cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 700 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, dirty talk, bathroom sex ➥ summary | based off this ask; We can see that Cooper tends to go for good girls (like @ghoulfuckersincorporated mentioned!), but what if he ran into a seemingly innocent - or at the very least kind - person… but they dirty talk like a sinner in the sack? ➥ notes | i humbly offer this drabble to @gingersforeverbox 🙈 masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?

At least, that’s what Cooper’s mama always said (and he wouldn’t know how right she was until he found himself shoved in a swanky club bathroom, slacks tucked under his ass as the prettiest — politest — lady choked herself with his cock).

Frankly, how he got here’s a hazy blur of bourbon and cigar smoke.

Whispered conversations and coy looks. The flash of cherry red nails, and a well timed head tilt; a pretty little thing cozied against him as nameless faces passed in and out of view.

Another pointless after party (though far smaller of an event than he used to pull) where vultures circled the room, waiting for their chance to pick at his bones. LA devotee’s ready to snap up the scraps of the once great Cooper Howard.

Dog eat dog; he couldn’t stand the petty games —the mindless indulgences.

So, he’d invited you as a buffer.

An acquaintanceship that’d gone back years, having met on set of one of his earlier productions, you were always cordial and had a kind word to say about anybody. Not a mean bone in that body… or so he’d thought.

Now, he’s not so sure he knows you half as well as he thought he did.

“Fuck!”

Air hisses through his teeth, his hands hovering over the sides of your head, unsure where to grip. Your hair looks awfully pretty (like it took a long time to force into shape), he’d hate to ruin the style. But if you keep trying to suck his soul out through his cock, he might just have to sink his fingers into those delicate curls and yank.

“S-Sweetheart, what are you — oh, ssshit.”

You peer up at him from beneath the spiky fan of your lashes and hum. His hips jump and you choke, your tongue pinned as your teeth scrape along his thick shaft.

Spit drips past your swollen lips, clings to your chin in sticky strings. The lower half of your face is a mess of smeared lipstick and pre-cum.

He pants, gazing down at you with awe. “How’re you so fucking good at this?”

He’s so big, stretching your mouth to the limit. A tender ache sets behind the hinge of your jaw, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Those half-lidded eyes, dark and hungry, make it all worth it. The slack circle of his mouth, the pained furrow of his brows as he wrestles with his self control all the payment you require.

You pop off; trace along the throbbing vein with your tongue as the heavy weight of his cock slips free with a wet suction. Your thighs clench and your toes curl in your heels at the low-throated groan punched from his chest.

“Practice makes perfect, don’t you think, Mr Howard?” you press a sloppy kiss to his leaking slit, lapping up the salty beads of fluid. Your fingers roll his balls, dragging the tips of your nails along the sensitive skin to watch him shiver. “Besides, I’ve seen how you look at me.”

His eyes flick off to the side, blowing wide once he catches your reflections in the mirror. He gulps, his knuckles white beside his hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

“Please, spare me.”

You snort, roll your eyes and shoot him a catty grin. Laugh when his cock throbs at the teasing flash of your tongue.

“You’re sweet — as true a gentleman as they come — but you can’t fool me. You’ve wanted me since you met me... and I don't get my best dress dirty for just anyone.”

“...”

“Now, before you try to say otherwise, remember whose on their knees with your cock in their mouth.”

“...No. Y-You’re right but I… I shouldn’t want to.”

You wink, circle the crown of his head with a red nail. More pre-cum dribbles from the slit, sticky drops you kiss away with your tongue.

“It’s okay, Mr Howard,” you say. “I want you too. Now do us both a favor and fuck my throat until I can’t talk. Please, I want it to hurt — want you to make me cry.”

[kaisacobra]

Deal - Tara Carpenter

Summary: After a long time apart, you and Tara have to figure out if you can still save what you had or if you are too broken to be fixed.

Warnings: A bit of angst (maybe)

Word Count: 3.9K

a/n: This is officially the end of the whole "second best" saga! Thank you so much for everyone who read it till here, it was really fun to write. I hope you guys don't mind the open ending 🤭

Fourth part/Alternate ending of Second Best

Tara couldn't remember the last time she felt this nervous. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror for what must have been the hundredth time, adjusting her bangs again, sweeping them from side to side until they looked almost the same as they did initially. The bright light in the room highlighted her freckles and wide, brown eyes filled with anxiety.

It had been a little over a year since she last saw you, since you accepted a spot for a study abroad program after recovering from the injuries caused by the last ghostfaces attack. You went with Kate, and as far as Tara knew, you and the girl spent that time living together.

She vividly remembered the day you left, as everyone else bid you farewell at the airport while Tara drowned in her own misery in her room. She wanted to go, say something, maybe even plead for you to stay, but she didn't have that right. She had sworn not to get close to you again until she knew she had her emotions under control.

Still, she allowed herself to be a bit more flexible when she noticed that her contact was no longer blocked by you. She let her fingers type an honest and heartfelt message about her mistakes, how sorry she was, and her plans to become a better person in the future. You responded with a heart emoji and nothing more. Nevertheless, it relieved the weight on Tara's chest just to know that you didn't hate her as much as she feared.

Tara remained true to the promise she made, a kind of devotion to you and what you represented in her life. She continued her therapy sessions regularly and decided to set aside some of her pride when trying to find new coping mechanisms, even if some of them required the help of others.

Writing remained her favorite, and she had hundreds of pages to prove it. She would be lying if she said you weren't the most mentioned topic in her journals, but over time, she started expanding her writing, and it became common to see her with a small notebook in her bag at all times, ready to express her opinions and feelings when necessary.

But she didn't have the notebook in hand that day. It was Mindy's birthday, and Tara wanted to be 100% dedicated to her friends, actively participating in games, conversations, and any other activity they needed. She knew she had been a bit absent-minded since you moved away, and it made her friends uneasy, not knowing exactly how to deal with the situation and with Tara herself.

But the day was supposed to be happy and carefree, so that's what Tara was going to appear to be.

Or at least, that was the plan until Tara arrived at Mindy's apartment and heard from the birthday girl herself that you would be arriving any moment. From that point on, Tara only remembers feeling her heart almost leap out of her throat and rushing to the bathroom in a failed attempt to prevent hyperventilation.

She sighed again and gripped the sink so tightly that the knuckles of her fingers turned white. She was anxious to see you, but she had no idea how you would react to the encounter. What if you looked at her with distaste? Or if you didn't even want to look her in the face? Tara knew she would deserve that kind of treatment, but it didn't mean it would hurt any less.

Because the truth is, all this time, Tara just wanted you back in her life.

---

Ringing a doorbell should be a simple task, but still, you couldn't help but stand in front of the door, second-guessing before pressing the simple buzzer.

"You know, if you want, we can turn around and leave, but we both know that's not what you want."

You sighed, turning to look at the girl beside you. Kate Bishop had her hands in the jacket pockets and displayed a fond smile on her face, which you imagined was an attempt to make you feel better.

"I hate it when you're right," you scoffed, but both of you knew your indignation was just a joke, having spent enough time together to read each other's reactions like a book.

This wasn't what you expected when you accepted the offer for a year-long study abroad program at Cambridge, but you also couldn't say you weren't satisfied with how things turned out. You didn't even know you needed this change of scenery, but it made sense after everything you had been through. You needed time away from painful memories.

The British air provided a calmness you hadn't felt in a long time, without fear of seeing familiar faces on the streets or places that would remind you of certain memories or people. Of course, good company also played a significant role.

You could hardly believe it when Kate offered to share an apartment with you near the college. She had already done so much for you, being by your side and supporting you throughout your rehabilitation process after last year's attack. You didn't want her to feel obligated to continue taking care of you.

But Kate barely listened to your concerns, saying that she needed to go to other countries to try to expand her company's contacts and that it would be good to have a roommate to share expenses (even though you were pretty sure Kate had enough money to buy three apartments in central London if she wanted to).

It was one of the best decisions you had ever made, and quickly you and Kate fell into such a comfortable rhythm that it felt like you had always lived together. Your relationship even turned romantic for a while, but it only lasted until you both realized that you were better off as friends, which was agreed upon between the two of you.

"Come on, ring that doorbell already! I'm starving!" Kate lightly pushed you, and you rolled your eyes with affection, feeling a bit less tense with your friend's moral support.

"Starving," you laughed and actually pressed the doorbell, taking a few steps back to wait for the moment the door would open. Your hands were trembling, and you felt as though you were about to sweat even though it was quite cold in New York. Of course, you missed your friends, your family, but that wasn't enough to ease your anxiety.

When the door finally opened, you were faced with Mindy Meeks-Martin, with her signature sarcastic smile and her short, curly hair reaching her chin, much longer than the last time you saw her. "Well, well. If it isn't our new European! Do you only speak with an accent now?"

"You're ridiculous." With a smile, you advanced and enveloped Mindy in a long hug that she quickly reciprocated, both feeling the longing emanating through the touch. The contact lasted for a few long seconds until you both untangled yourselves again. "I hope it's not a problem that I brought Kate along..."

"Pfft! Of course not!" Mindy waved her hand, indicating that she didn't mind the newcomer. "It's even better you brought her because I needed to thank her in person for taking care of you." She looked at Kate with a playful smile. "I think we all know our y/n is too kind to be alone in a distant country. She would try to help a stranger on the street and get kidnapped for sure."

"Hey!"

"Wow, have you heard about the time she took the wrong subway, and then..."

"Okay! Enough about my misfortune! Can we go in?" You interrupted Kate, feeling your cheeks flush a bit. Despite being slightly embarrassed, you were still happy that two important people in your life had the potential to get along, and that was all you could ask for.

Mindy made room, and finally, you entered the apartment. It was new, considering the twin and Anika had recently moved in together, and it was sparsely furnished but beautiful and comfortable enough to feel like a home. You and Kate approached, she with her hands on your back as a silent support, and you greeted your friends with enthusiasm and a longing to catch up.

Chad looked stronger than ever, and he seemed excited about both college and his part-time job as an assistant at a gym. Apparently, he got a discount for training and using the equipment and was clearly taking full advantage of it. He and Kate engaged in a conversation about diets, weights, and workouts that you honestly couldn't follow, but you were satisfied to know that they had gotten along well enough to plan to train together someday.

Anika was happy and radiant, making you laugh as she always did. She wore a cropped top, revealing the huge scar forming a line in the center of her stomach, something she seemed to wear with pride. You never expected this reaction from her; on the contrary, you had imagined that she would want to distance herself from the group, out of fear or trauma. Still, it was reassuring to see that she had stayed for Mindy. They were the kind of couple you hoped would last forever.

Sam seemed somewhat lighter since the last time you saw her, as if a huge weight had lifted off her shoulders. She was smiling, albeit not very widely, and welcomed you with a warm hug that almost made you cry with relief. Part of you always wondered if Sam was glad with your departure because of... well... your conflicts with her sister, but she seemed so happy with your presence that it was almost embarrassing that you had that thought in the first place.

And then, she came. A pair of bright brown eyes that haunted your sleep without permission. It was unfair how she looked as beautiful as the last time you saw her, as if time worked differently for her, and only for her. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart seemed to beat so fast it was about to explode.

How could it be possible that your entire system changed just by her presence? How was it possible that, with a glance, she could change your heartbeat and make your head spin like a carousel? Maybe she didn't even know she was doing it, but you couldn't comprehend why, even after so many years, your body reacted so instinctively around her.

It was almost humiliating to realize that your efforts seemed to have been in vain. You had gone to another country, met new people, explored new horizons, even had a girlfriend for a brief period. During this year, you had thought so little about Tara that you almost thought you could leave her in the past, that you had overcome your feelings, so pure but so conflicting. All of this, all this effort to come back and realize that you seemed to still be stuck in the same place, like the same foolish girl who would do anything for Tara Carpenter against your better judgment.

You could still hear her screams on that last night you had together when you thought you were going to die, and your biggest concern was that Tara had to leave that room alive. You still remembered the conversation you had before, Tara begging for your forgiveness and saying she loved you multiple times.

Those were memories that left a hole in your chest. You knew Tara had her problems, but you always lost so much when she distanced herself.

She raised her hand in an awkward greeting, and you think you gave a half-smile in response. It was too much. You were still feeling too much, and it drove you crazy. Still, you pretended everything was okay for a few moments, just not to create an uncomfortable atmosphere at the party. You talked to the others, sharing a bit of your experience in England, but your mind always unconsciously turned to Tara, analyzing her reactions and trying to read her thoughts.

Tara was quiet, maybe even quieter than you had ever seen her. You couldn't read her expressions very well, straining to see her only from the corner of your eye, but you could feel her attentive gaze on you, as if nothing in the world was as interesting as you.

Finally, you stopped talking for a while and found an excuse to leave and try to restore some of your sanity. The door to the balcony was open, and even though the view was nothing but New York's industrial buildings, the cold wind on your face helped alleviate some of the nervousness you were feeling.

A gentle touch reached your shoulder, and it was familiar enough for you to recognize the owner. Kate's image appeared by your side as she leaned on the railing, looking directly at your face in deep thought. "So?"

"I thought I had gotten over this. This is ridiculous." You responded with your head down, feeling ashamed to continue in this cycle of liking Tara Carpenter.

Kate shook her head and held your shoulder again, silently asking for your attention. "You can't control these things, you know." A second of silence passed, the faint sounds of the city serving as a soundtrack to your emotional confusion. "If it helps, she spent the whole time looking at you. She seemed... I don't know, regretful, maybe? I don't know her as well as you do."

"I don't even know if I still know her." It was a true confession. Even after everything, even the attacks and the message Tara sent you when you were leaving the country, you still weren't sure if she had the capacity to return to what she was before everything went wrong. You were afraid, and honestly, who could blame you?

While you were away, sometimes you checked your friends' Instagram, just to see what they were up to. Multiple times, the posts contained photos with Tara, and she seemed happy, maybe even lighter. You even wondered if the two of you were just destined to be apart, like a more brutal version of Romeo and Juliet.

"You're not obligated to anything, but don't you need some sort of closure?" Kate advised. "Just to move on, if that's what you really want."

"What do you mean by that?" You retorted defensively.

The blue-eyed girl smiled and shook her head slightly, as if dealing with an irritated child. "I saw how you looked at her when you arrived. I'm not saying you should do anything, especially because I have my doubts if she could really be good for you, but it's clear that you feel something for her that's bigger than you can control."

"Yeah, and that's pathetic."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I understand that your situation is complicated." Kate placed her other hand on your shoulder, now holding you face-to-face with her. "But you know you'll have to face this someday, right? Whatever the conclusion may be."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, but eventually a smile broke through, lighting up your expression. "When did you become so wise, Bishop? Last time I saw you, you were trying to put aluminum in the microwave."

"Shut up." She grumbled while also having a smile on her face and pulled you into a hug that you didn't even know you needed. That was Kate, a warm person who always gave her best to the people she loved. You couldn't be more grateful to still have her in your life, even though your relationship didn't work out. 

The affectionate moment almost made you forget your conflict. Almost.

Until the reason for all your doubts appeared standing in front of the door, staring directly at you.

_

Tara regretted going after you.

She should have expected, especially since you came to the party with Kate, especially because you spent this whole year living with her. But that didn't mean it hurt any less to see you embraced with her, looking so comfortable that you wouldn't need anything else in this world.

Especially if it was someone known for hurting you and breaking your heart repeatedly.

She stood there, rooted to the ground like an idiot, until you two separated and noticed her presence. When your eyes met, she looked like a deer in the headlights and immediately started stepping back, embarrassed to have been caught like that.

Tara was already planning how to hide from you for the rest of the party when Kate stopped her. "Hey! No need to leave."

The Latina girl halted her route and looked suspiciously at both of you. You didn't seem to understand the situation, just like her, but Kate seemed sure of what she was doing because she continued. "You two need to talk once and for all. No imminent death or text messages, just eye to eye."

"Kate." You called her, grabbing her arm as a form of protest. Tara couldn't help but wince when she noticed how just how much you were against the idea of being alone with her. Not that she could blame you for it.

"Thank me later." That was all the other girl responded, and with a short nod towards Tara, she returned to the living room, leaving two tormented souls by themselves on the balcony.

Tara took a few small steps forward, analyzing what your reaction would be to the proximity. You seemed to be doing your best to ignore her, looking into the distance as if there were something interesting in graffiti-covered billboards and dimly lit lamp posts. She leaned on the railing, trying at least to have a view of your face. "Sorry if I interrupted your intimate moment; I didn't mean to."

You released air through your nose, but Tara couldn't tell if it was a laugh. "You talk as if Kate and I were dating."

"And aren't you?" The younger Carpenter replied, trying to contain some of the excitement she wanted to show. That had been one of the best news she had received in a long time. 

"No, not for a while. I thought you saw it on my Instagram; I unblocked you." You finally looked at her, and Tara could see that you were analyzing her, as if she were a puzzle to be solved.

"Yeah, I stopped checking a while ago. Thought maybe it would bother you."

"And it wouldn't bother me for you to say you love me and not visit me in the hospital once after almost dying in front of you? It wouldn't bother me that the only news I had from you after that was that message before I boarded the plane, since you didn't even bother to show up at the airport?"

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and she accepted each of your frustrations as a penance. God, she would probably accept a punch from you if that would make you feel better. "I had promised myself that I would only get close to you again when I was better, okay? When I sought help and there was no risk of being an idiot with you again. I didn't lie when I said I love you, and it's because I love you that I knew it was better to stay away until I could be a version of myself that would be better for you."

A minute of pure silence passed, and Tara almost thought the conversation would end there until you spoke again. "And did you? Get better, I mean."

She sighed and crossed her arms as if that made her less vulnerable. "I think so. I don't feel as much uncontrolled anger as before; I also don't feel the need to take out my frustrations in drinks or parties. It's been a while since I argued with Sam, and I think that's good for both of us. And my therapist is nice, even though he's old enough to not know what Twitter is." Tara laughed, even though she was full of anxiety bubbling inside her. "But he advised me to write, and that has helped me a lot."

You looked at her with curiosity. "Write? About what?"

"About everything." Tara shrugged, almost as if she were relaxed. "My day-to-day life, college, my friends... you. Writing makes what I feel not stay trapped inside me, so I have no reason to explode. Everyone wins with this, and I must say that my essay grades even increased after that."

A short laugh escaped your lips, and the sound made Tara minimally satisfied with herself. "You write about me?"

"Yeah, actually, most of my journals have something about you. Memories of our childhood or what I feel for you." Tara admitted, feeling her own face blush with embarassment. You didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care, because you continued to look at her very carefully. "But most of it is about things I regret. Things I said, things I did... I'm really sorry."

"I want to believe that. I mean, I believe you, I know you're not lying, but..." You placed your hands on your head and closed your eyes, your elbows resting on the railing. It seemed like you were trying to block your own thoughts. "It's all so complex, and I feel so much... pain."

"I understand. I don't expect you to forgive me, and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life apologizing if necessary." Cautiously, Tara took a few steps towards you. "But if you want me to stay away, just say the words, and I'll go."

You sighed with evident exhaustion. "Of course not, Tara."

She took a few more steps, and now her arm almost touched yours. "I know I have no right to ask this, but... do you still love me? Or do you think you could love me again someday?"

"Of course, I still love you, Tara! Don't you see that's the problem?" You moved away from the railing, raising your voice as the conversation stressed you. "I shouldn't still love you! I shouldn't still want you around! What does that say about me?"

Tara waited a few seconds until you calmed down, keeping the distance between you to avoid making you more irritated. When your breathing started to slow, she continued in a weak voice. "I hurt the person I loved most in this world. What does that say about me?"

You didn't say anything in response. She spoke again. "Why don't we make a deal?"

"A deal? About what?" You replied with sarcasm dripping from your voice.

"Let me prove that I've changed, that I've improved, that I deserve a place in your life again. We can start slowly; I won't force anything and will respect any boundaries you want." The girl pleaded, almost clasping her hands and kneeling at your feet. "And if I do anything, anything at all, that makes you uncomfortable and hurts you, I'll leave you alone forever."

"What's the point of that?"

"To stop this doubt that I know we both have. Stop us from wondering about the 'what ifs' and really put to the test if I've changed. That's what you want, isn't it? To know if there's any chance the old Tara can come back? Well, that's all I want too."

You stared at her, clear doubt and apprehension in your eyes as you thought about the presented arguments. Tara's foot tapped rapidly on the floor, demonstrating her nervousness.

A few seconds passed until you spoke again. "What does this mean for us?"

Tara's expression softened as she understood your caution. It was understandable, your fear. "I don't know, but we can find out together. Do we have a deal?"

A few more seconds, and then, a nod.

"Deal."

[noirgl0w]

cleaning up bsf!jj after he’s all bloodied and roughed up from a fight and he’s looking at you like you hung the stars bc you’re so kind to him no one’s ever this kind to him

You were studying for your exam the following week when you heard three familiar taps on the window: JJ.

You got up quickly, so much so that your legs almost failed to get out of bed and head in the direction of the window like a zombie, he had that effect on you, he was like the Pied Piper, he just attracted you.

"You shouldn't be here." You muttered, you hadn't seen him yet and the sight left you speechless. "J?"

He shook his head, stepping into your room. "I'm fine, I'm fine, jus' need a big ass sleeping session." You had to grab his arm, nearly stumbling when he put his other foot inside your room, his muddy boots staining the pretty white floor.

"What happened?" You pouted, he looked really bad, the left side of his face was purple. "Was it your dad?"

He shook his head and you understood, less talking and more action, you guided him to the bathroom and left him sitting there on the toilet lid while you snuck to your brother's room to get clean clothes for him.

"What are you doing?" He asked when he saw you coming, whispering your name. "No, I'm not going to take a shower now, I just want to sleep."

"My roof, my rules." You murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "You're going to have to dry yourself with my towel, because I don't think I have another one here right now…"

He growled, secretly loving the way yo took care of him, you looked so scared and he wondered if you knew how pretty you looked at this moment.

JJ shook his head. "The one you use to dry yourself with, naked?"

"Sorry about that." You whispered shyly, kissing his forehead. "I'll be right outside, let me know when you're done so we can take care of those wounds, yes?" You muttered, grabbing him by the chin and looking at the bruise on his face.

When he nodded you left the room, going to the kitchen to quickly grab the cleaning products mopping the floor quickly before he was done with his shower, not wanting anything to be stained with mud.

When JJ got out he oppened the door, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, who was sitting on the floor like a puppy waiting for its owner.

"You having fun there?" He teased, helping you get up, you cursed yourself for thinking he looked good, he was only wearing some grey sweatpants of all the clothes you had gotten for him, and damn did he look good. You shouldn't think that about your injured bestfriend, but couldn't help yourself.

You sat on the sink, and he stood there looking at you.

"It was some kook." He whispered, hissing at the feeling of the alcohol-soaked cotton against his knuckles. "He ended up worse than me, just so you know it."

It made you sigh. "I don't care about how he ended up, I care about you." This made him frown. "And you are going to be sore for at least a week."

JJ looked at you, those baby blue eyes of his fixated on the way yours were shinning with worry, he didn't understand it, as if you couldn't be worried about him. Because you were good, nice, and he was, well, he was JJ Maybank.

You put everything back in the kit, and stood up from the sink, watching him with concern. "Why did you fight with a kook, Jayj?"

"He said... well he said ugly things about the pogues... about you and Kie... and you know, I wasn't going to allow it, no, that dick face couln't get away with it alright?" He sighed. "They just... they think they have the right to treat us as if we are trash, I mean, I kind of am but... You and kie? You?" JJ shook his head. "No, I don't even know how I got so lucky that I'm here and you are taking care of me, that asshole is not going to disrespect you in my face."

He looked in awe as you blushed, hugging him so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against his.

The closest he's ever had to you.

"Lets go to sleep, alright? You look tired..." You said, as if you weren't dying to share your bed with him.

And he of course happily accepted.

[astralnymphh]

caregiver!ellie is sooo cute but wha about caregiver!reader…

i jus wanna play with her hair n tell her how amazing she is…😞

ughh anon ur in luck cuz I always had the perfect scenario for this in mind. a little tired rn but I'll try, so here we go!! SFW, bit angsty if you squint?? moreso sappy. ✰ . . TLOU UNIVERSE

rust of blood, a scent that churns nostrils and sickens guts. that scent, nested in your nose as you led ellie into the bathroom, embossing crimson prints in each step. damn infected, right? cramming their ridgy fungi bodies through painstakingly set traps– little fuckers weaseled upon your property. nothing to fret about, els was there– as usual– to mow them down to the bone. but everytime, would return a person so done with this bullshit, her own bullshit. gushy assumptions that leave her feeling a tad peeved that she couldn't 'do better for you', when all she gave you was betterness, everyday. it's the little things that tick her off. the little things that sparsely matter to you.

"arms up." you asked, so brittle– so fine. fine on the ears roughened– reddened, scars prevail. with her wearied ass sat atop the baths' edge, you felt nothing waned from nurturing. that beaten freckled face, so preciously relying on you to care for her. ellie draws her arms up, stiller then bark when you tuck and pare her soiled shirt off, plaid pattern muddled by a likeness of bloodshed. you dip down, knees bound to a squat, popping her fly open and rolling the denim up and off her legs. els didn't really utter much. she was really tired, bone–tired. so, with the rest of her clothes messily assorted in a pile at your feet, you arise, guiding her with a shoulder tap. "c'mon–" the clear water welcomes her body, fingertips rubescent as they dig into the white tubs' edge, sinking in slowly. a soft grunt flows from her nose, water rippling as her elbows drift to her flank. you sidle upon a stool beside her, soaked rag in hand, it drips. the drops, they find their way onto els' spent skin of tender bruises. there's a certain breed of kindness that one's hands will pamper along the body of a lover, your hands, her body, a doting kindness. you swipe the rag up her scruff, taking gentle time on the groove where jaw and neck weave in flesh. she reciprocates in pleased buzzes, hums to show an unwaver of contentment. raggy bristles tickle her skin, running along the pistil pores, so smoothly– she just has to let you know, "m'not gonna lie, this is nice." and dreary lids flip to creased ones, uplifted by a fat–cheeked beam. a girl could used to this, after starving of its attention, for so long, years and tears hence. she adds with rasp, an irritated rasp, "fucking stupid of me for not checking the perimeters, m'so dumb, i should've–" she scolds herself, and you scold threefold– kindly, "infected, are fuckin' stupid. not you, babe." it baffles you to even hear her words of self–scorn perk on your ears, you affirm further, "you're so smart for even suggesting the traps in the first place, don't even say that." your available hand skids up her back, knurling knuckles in her pappy wet tuft and pressing a strand to your thumb, "never, say that." you repeat nimbly, lacking tone, pitching in breath. the strand you press, it oozes more drops like a squashed orange, pulping to your mold of it. she smiles wider, and wider, till finally– her teeth held in place. null troubles could sweep those cheeks of dimples. then her lips cleave, and that coral tongue begins to wag again, muttering, "fuck, you're so sweet." then, bowing her head in amusement of her words, she muttered softer than prior, "too sweet." a smile she lifts somehow further, bathwater wets her rosy cheeks– a glisten hardly unnoticed in dim candle blaze.

and what is encouraged beyond those words, is your velvet kiss to her wrist, catching and craning it up to meet your mouth. you sow it, palp it, suckle it, and squeak with a pop, surfing straight into your praise of, "but you're my sweet girl.." moseying the rag down the span of her bicep, mellowly.

"shut up.."

(img from fulltimekardashian on pinterest)

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 31

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Thursday)

Masterlist

“I'm so sorry, Declan. I swear I thought this time was the one.”

“You don't need to apologize, Liv.”

“Don't I? It's the third time I've thought I'm in labour and then…”

And then nothing. It is just another false alarm.

My due date is in a couple of days, but for the last week I've been feeling all types of cramps and discomfort, and we've ended up at the hospital twice. 

The first time was while Declan was at some kind of pre-season training camp in Portugal and I was alone in the house with his mum. When I described to her what I was feeling she also thought the baby was coming, so we called for a taxi and went  to the hospital. But after a quick exam, they told me everything was ok and that it wasn't time yet. While all that was happening, Declan had already packed all his things and was about to jump into a car and go to the airport. 

The next false alarm was at night, the pain being so unbearable that I woke up Declan with my screams and scared the hell out of him. But when we made it to the hospital, it was gone. They checked me again just in case something was wrong since the pain had been horrible, but they only told me that the baby was in the right position and that everything was ready.

And then, we have today. We were having lunch with his mum when I started to be in pain again, and this time it was different. So we packed everything, called my doctor… and halfway there the pain was gone, which makes me think that it may have been just air if you know what I mean.  

“What you are feeling is normal, Liv” Declan's mum says. “It is your first pregnancy, you don't know what to expect.”

“Yeah, but… You all must be so tired of me…”

“I could never get tired of you, Liv” Declan says, giving me a look that makes my stomach do a flip, something that definitely doesn't help with all these false alarms.

“Thank you. I guess” I manage to reply.

“Why don't we finish having lunch? We can still warm up everything” his mum says.

“I think I'm gonna go take a nap. Resting may do me good.”

“Then I'll save you some food for later. You need to eat and keep your strength just in case.”

“Thank you” I smile.

“Do you want me to help you go up the stairs and get in bed?” Declan offers.

“I'll do it myself, don't worry.”

“Ok” he nods, his eyes fixed on me as I leave the kitchen.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Breathe, Olivia. Breathe” I say to myself while looking at my reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, my hands grabbing the sink with such strength that my knuckles have turned white. “That definitely felt like what they say your water breaking feels like. But maybe it wasn't that. Maybe… fuck!”

No, that was real. That pain was very real.

“Ok, ok” I say again as it goes away. “You have to go downstairs, Olivia. You can't start yelling like a madwoman and scare everyone” I say as I slowly leave the bathroom, focusing on my breathing like I was taught. “Step by step. And we breathe. We… breathe.”

As I walk down the stairs, I can hear Declan and his mum talking in the kitchen.

“I was going to tell her, mum. I was finally going to do it. But then the accident happened, her dad kicked her out and I just… She was too vulnerable.”

“But you have to tell her, Declan. You are about to have a baby together!”

“I know, mum. But it isn't that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because in case you've forgotten, I behaved like a dick with her and broke her heart. I hurt her really bad, mum. Really, really bad. I can't just go to her now and be like, hey, Liv. I'm in love with you and have basically been since the day we met.”

He… what?

“Fuck!” I cry, making both Declan and his mum turn around to look at me while I hold onto the kitchen door's frame as if my life depended on it. 

“Liv! What are you doing here? Are you ok?” he says, quickly running towards me.

“I think this time it isn't a false alarm.”

“What?”

“I suddenly woke up from my nap feeling something weird, went to the bathroom and I think… I think my water broke.”

“Are you sure?” Declan mum's asks me.

“I… Fuck! That hurts!”

“Mum, we have to take her to the hospital. I also think this is it.”

“Take her to the car, I will go grab everything else.”

“Ok” he nods. “Liv, it's time to go” Declan says.

“I can't.”

“You can't?”

“I'm not ready, Declan. I can't do this.”

“Liv… Liv, look at me” he says, cupping my face and forcing me to look into those blue eyes of his. “You can and you will. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“But it hurts so much already. I can't do this for hours.”

“You can and you will do this” he repeats. “I believe in you. Now let's go” he says before lifting me in his arms and carrying me to the car.

I can do this. I can.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe he is real.”

“Neither do I” Declan chuckles. 

I had done it. I had actually managed to do it, and he was here. Our healthy and gorgeous baby boy.

“Who do you think he looks like? My mum says he is just like me, but I don't see it.”

“I think he looks like himself” Declan says, caressing his cheek. He is sitting on the bed with me, one arm around my shoulders while the other rests on mine, both of us holding the baby. “Our nameless little man. Though I've found a name that I think ticks all the things you want and like.”

“Really?”

“Yep” he nods. “I was waiting until he was born to tell you because of what Georgina said, that sometimes babies are born and the name you've chosen for them doesn't fit them. But I don't think that would be the case. I think this name is perfect for him.”

“And are you going to tell me what's that perfect name or…”

“Oliver. Oliver Rice.”

“Oliver…” I repeat, looking at him. At this tiny human being who has completely changed my life and put it upside down. 

“Usually when people find out that they are having a boy they name him after the father, a grandfather, an uncle… But why not after his mum?”

“What?” I say, looking back at Declan.

“I thought of Oliver because I was thinking about you… Olivia” he says, those blue eyes of his that I truly hope the baby also has, meeting mine. “You are one of the most amazing women I've ever met, definitely the bravest and strongest. What you've done today is just another example of it. And I think that one day, when he is old enough to understand it, he will agree with me and say that being named after you is the biggest honour evertouche.”

“Declan…” I whisper, not being able to contain my tears. Again. I've lost count of all the times I've cried since I gave birth.

“Oliver also has a good nickname: Ollie” he says, wiping away some of my tears, the feeling of his hand on my face making me gasp. “I think it is cute and a bit cheeky, which is something I have the feeling he will be” he smiles. “And even though your names may be similar, Liv and Ollie aren't, which means no one will get confused, and that was something very important on your list.”

“The most important one” I chuckle. “Well, that and that it sounded good with your last name. It isn't an usual one.”

“Oh, I know” he laughs. “But Oliver Rice has quite a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

“It does” I smile. 

“And if he was already going to have my last name, it was only fair he was named after you, Liv. It takes two to make a baby, and you've actually been the one who has done all the work.”

“Are we calling him Oliver, then? Ollie?” 

“You have the last word, Liv.”

“Then welcome to the world, little Oliver” I say, kissing his forehead. “And thank you for everything, Declan. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Like I just told you, it takes two to make a baby. I would have never left you alone or on your own, Liv. Never” he says. 

“Thank you” I whisper as I lean forward towards him. Towards his face, his lips. I so want to kiss him.

“Liv…” he whispers back, also moving closer. And then… 

“Liv!” Madders says, walking into the room. 

“Bloody hell” Declan mutters.

“Oh my God, Liv. He is here!”

“Hello, James” I say, trying to smile and forget that he just ruined a perfect moment.

“You are a mum, Liv! And you a dad, Deccers! Can you believe it?”

“Not really” he says, his hand giving my shoulder a little squeeze before he moves from the bed. He hadn't left my side since Oliver was born, and now it feels so weird to not have him next to me… Almost as if something was missing.

“I saw your mum outside and she said that everything went great and that you are feeling good. Or as good as one can be after bringing a child to the world” Madders chuckles. “Can I hold him?” he asks. 

“Yes, of course” I say. 

“Hello there, little man.”

“Careful with…”

“Declan, I'm a father of three. I know what I'm doing. But guys, he is gorgeous. Are you sure he is his?” Madders says, nodding towards Declan with a teasing smile.

“You are so not funny, James” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But he is one of the prettiest babies I've ever seen, and as newborns they all are quite ugly, to be honest. You should see my photos” he chuckles.

“Nothing has changed, then” Declan says, teasing him back.

“Touché” he laughs. “Did you finally pick a name? You can still use James if you can't decide, you know I will be honoured.”

“We actually have. Oliver. Oliver Rice” I say, reaching for Declan's hand. 

“Ollie to friends and family” he says, taking it and interlacing his fingers with mine.

“Ollie… I love it” Madders smiles. “My gorgeous nephew Ollie.”

“And Godson too if you'd like.”

“What?”

“You are my older brother, James.”

“Yes, but… What about Declan's brothers?”

“Oliver is the sixth grandchild in my family. We all already are Godfathers of someone” he shrugs.

“But… are you sure? I mean, what about Micky? Or Mason. Or Sonny! He would make an amazing Godfather too.”

“He would, I agree. But like I said, none of them are my older brother, James. Only you” I smile.

“And Van de Ven actually is an old fling and Mason an old crush, aren't they?” Declan teases me. “That could make things awkward.”

“Oh, shut up!” I say, trying to hit him but only managing to make him laugh.

“Guys, I…” Madders says. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you, James. Neither of us would be here if it wasn't for you. Especially not him.”

“Definitely not him, no” he chuckles. “My beautiful Godson and nephew Oliver. Ollie” he says before kissing his head and starting to tell him about all the things they are going to do together as he grows up while Declan and I just smile at them, our hands still linked together, my head resting on his arm. 

[askbensolo]

She finds my hair so fascinating, when to me it's so ordinary. She likes to weave her fingers through the strands and twirl my curls around and braid it when I'm not paying attention. And sometimes she just comes up behind me and starts scratching my head with her fingertips, and I don't know what it is, but I freaking melt, like an ice cream sundae left outside in the sun. Like...that must be what sex feels like. Seriously. If sex isn’t as good as, or better, than head scritches…well, then that is such a ripoff and I will be speaking to the manager about that.

And if it is…then, uh…well…heh.

But…maybe I shouldn’t speak too soon.

She did it last night—the head-scratching thing—and it started out fine. (By “fine” I mean, it felt so good I would have committed murder for that girl.) But then…for some reason…it brought back this memory of me, lying in the dark with Snoke, my head on his lap, while he stroked my hair and whispered to me, and suddenly…it all felt wrong. I felt something like a rock sink to the bottom of my gut, and I went all stiff, and her touch was driving me crazy (in a bad way this time) but I didn't know what to do... I tried to make the good feelings come back, but they wouldn't anymore. And I felt like something bad would happen if I told her to stop.

It's not her fault. She didn't know. I mean, she wouldn't know. Not unless I told her, which I couldn't, because I felt trapped. Trapped and forced to sit there and let myself be touched. I felt myself start to drift away from my body, like I used to do when Snoke would inspect my thoughts—

And I couldn't believe it, how something that had felt so crazy good before now felt so horrible, like being tortured, like my insides were filling up with poison that I had no way to excise, like I was watching myself be eaten alive—I was literally starting to break out in a sweat, moisture prickling through my pores—

And I tried to tell myself, Chill, you idiot, it's just Fannie. You know, that girl you like? She's not the one who hurt you. She likes you. She's flirting. It's supposed to be cute. It's supposed to be hot. It's supposed to feel good. It felt good before. But typical Ben—that bantha-brain never kriffing listens.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore because I was honestly perceiving a non-negligible chance that I might become violently ill so I just stood up abruptly and gave her an awkward little hug and pretended I had business to attend to in the bathroom, but really I just sat on the edge of the tub for a while and white-knuckled the fiberglass and tried to wait out my nausea. And it was so awful; even though I was finally safe and all alone I could still feel fingers combing through my hair—and I didn’t know whose fingers I was imagining them to be.

And I thought, wow, cool, now here's a preview of my life probably, if I choose to go down this path of letting someone in, I guess. Cool cool cool. Am I gonna have to go back to therapy for this? For sex stuff? And that wasn’t even anything—she was just playing with my hair. How much worse would it be for me if we were—you know? I’ve been in therapy before, for depression, and anxiety, but—for sex? Ew. Embarrassing. Disgusting. I’d rather die. Stupid me. Hate my life. I should’ve just stayed asexual.

And of all the reasons I have to hate Snoke, and all the things he’s taken from me…I can’t believe that now, after everything he did when I was sixteen and seventeen, years later as a twenty-three-year-old man I also have to say that he took away my ability to enjoy being with a woman I’m attracted to. I didn’t even think I could be attracted to anyone for so long, and now I am—will wonders never cease?—except oh wait—surprise trauma, I can’t kriffing stand to be touched, even by someone I like more than anyone. And maybe that’s worse than not liking anyone at all. Because now it’s not just an aversion, it’s kind of a longing and an aversion at the same time, the good and bad feelings all mixed together, the really really good and the really really bad all at once, which is its own special little psychosomatic torture, and I almost wish the box had stayed closed and I’d never learned I could feel things so so good and so so bad—and that’s not even getting into how it makes me feel like I’m not a man, to be so scared of something I’m supposed to want—to not be able to respond to her the way I’m supposed to—and ARGHH I hate myself I HATE myself I HATE myself UGHHHH

[vinetae]

Try (M) - Chapter 11:

"I..."

Pairings: Taehyung x reader, Jimin x reader, Jungkook x reader, Taehyung x Jungkook

Genre: Angst, Fluff, SMUT (Yep! We back, baby! and steamer than ever 🥵)

Warnings: Blowjobs, Handjobs, cum play, protected sex (thought not mentioned of a condom, no glove no love guys), Makeouts, Riding, Cowgirl, Breast play, nipple play, ANGST. Jungkookie's sad boy. Tears (no, not necrophilia kind of shit, I don't condone that lmao). Sneaky sex, bathroom sex, FLUFF. OMG they're so cute together 🤧

A/n: WELCOME. I am now sober and full of angst. I WISH I had written this master piece when I was high. guess I'm a sappy stoned. I'm kinda a sucker for the fluff during the do shit ☺

As always, Enjoy!

<;- Previous Chapter

“Fu-fuck!”

Jungkook’s quick to cup his hand over his mouth, screwing his eyes at your plump lips working wonders on his cock. You moan, swirling the tip of your tongue around the base of his hardened cock. His palms dig into your marble sink counter, knuckles turning white from such force.

His head is thrown back, using everything he can to silence his echoing cries. Your knees beg for mercy, but the sounds caused by your own lips had overridden their small pleads. You bob your head front to back, watching from parted lashes at his sad attempts to silence himself.

The pad of your tongue brushes against his tip, sending a shiver down his spine. Holy fucking shit! You’re going to be the death of him for sure. But fuck- he would be lying if he denied that he’d be a happy man to die right now.

Your tongue licks stripes up and down the base of his cock, like a fucking lollipop. Your batted eyelashes do nothing but edge him further onto his climax. His blonde streaks fall heavily in front of his face, sweat creating a slight sheen against his heated skin. 

You remove your lips, followed by a ‘popping’ sound. A string of saliva-blended pre-cum makes a thin, sticky bridge from his tip to your lips. You glance up, wiping away excess juices that had dripped from your mouth and onto your chin.

His eyes meet yours, blown and swirling with arousal. You flash a smile, before leaning your head back down, to focus on a different part of his body. 

“HOLY SHIT!-” He’s quick to cover his mouth as your lips suck gently on the curves of his balls. A hand comes to comb through your hair before gripping onto a piece that’s attached to your apex. You hear the slight commotion coming from the near living room, before wondering how long you two had been in here. You smirk, a smile presses your lips while meeting Jungkook’s glassy eyes. 

“Better hurry up, baby. Don’t want them finding out how well I’m sucking your little cock” He lets out a choked cough at the sudden dirty talk. 

“Please-” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s just so close. One second away from losing it all. Would you swallow? Spit?

“Please what, baby boy.” You stand up, having your hand sloppily running along his hard on. Pre-cum twines between your fingers, making your hands twice as sticky. 

“Tell mommy what you want, sweetheart.” You coo, leaning up to tuck a piece of his bangs out of his vision, his breath hot along your heated skin with eyes blown wide open. 

“Please- Let me..” He chokes on his words, your actions against his cock blocks any sentence he could form. 

“Let you..? I need words, Kook. You want to be a good boy for me, right? You’re going to be a good boy?” He quickly nods, leaning his head back to enjoy the waves of pleasure that tease him. 

“Then tell me what you want.” You tease, running your free hand along the exposed skin of his inner thighs, making his head lull back even further from the soft touches. After a while, he finally answers. 

“You.”

~~~

Childish sounds echo through the small living room, as Jimin cracks open his eyes to the darkness. How long had he been out? He scans the room, before seeing Taehyung cuddled up by his side, natural black locks fall heavenly in front of his face. Soft snores reverberate back to both of them.

He shrugs mentally, preparing to fall back asleep until a sudden noise has interrupted. He looks down your small hallway, seeing the bathroom door light fade in, then back out as the two of you step back into the room to join the others. Your hair’s fallen onto your shoulders, a tangled mess even more so than before. Half of your shirt hangs off your shoulder, and the drawstrings attached to Jungkook sweats are completely undone. 

Not to mention the cum stain right behind it.

No doubt in his mind.

You fucked.

Jimin chuckled at the thought of you two. Eyes blown and glassy, looking as if you’d just gotten higher than mount everest. You carefully lower yourself onto the length of the sectional, snuggling closer to Jungkook’s exhausted frame. Your eyes start to close, the last 20 minutes plays like a movie in a cinema on the back of your eyelids. 

“F-fuck! Come with me, please!” Jungkook whines, reaching down between your thighs to rub quick circles against your aching clit. Your head gets launched back at his quick fingers, bouncing harder on his hardened cock.

His back pressed against the bathroom cabinets, both hands holding you in place as you fasten your pace. His tattooed hand comes up to reach around your neck, gently applying pressure to the sides. His demeanor changes like a TV commercial. 

“Yeah, ride me like the whore you are, baby.”

 His words fall upon death ears. Usually, you’d respond with some bratty comment telling him who’s really in charge, but honestly you didn’t give a fuck. 

“F-uck! . Look at my little slut, huh? Riding me like a damn carousel” A harsh slap to your ass throws a moan out into the air. 

“My little slut. Being so good for me, baby. Fuck-” His cups his other hand around your mouth, silencing you in a dominating way and -might you add- extremely hot way.

“Fuck- Jimin could walk in any minute. You’d better hurry up and finish baby before your little boyfriend finds you fucking another man like the whore you are. Shit-” You whine, wondering if your whole body could take all of this. He’s quick to realize, and once again; switches like a light switch.

Cue Charlie Puth-

“Are you okay, Y/n? I’ve got you” His pace slows, removing his hands from around your neck, to softly cradle your small figure. (Well, it’s small to him.)

“Was I too rough?” You shake your head, continuing to bounce on his cock, with his head falling backwards, accidentally hitting the bathroom cabinets. You both chuckle at the silly incident, continuing off. 

“Silly” He coos, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, flashing a cute bunny smile. You return the small gesture, as his hand drops down to cup the underside of your breast. Teasing and tweaking the erect bud between his index finger and thumb. You moan softly, leaning down to press small kitten-like licks to his neck. 

“Mmm, Y/n.” He shifts his knee, lifting it a bit higher to give you better access. You smile against his neck, trailing the kisses up before taking his lobe in your mouth, tugging slightly with your front teeth. 

“Mmm, Jungkook '' You mock his tone, a laugh erupts from his chest. You both now sit still, your motions had slowed on his cock, still fully hard inside of you. 

“Y/n..” He reaches to take your hand in his while the other brushes its thumb repeatedly over the curve of your breast. A certain look swirls his irises. It wasn’t arousal, sexual tension, and defidently not fear.

It had been something you hadn’t seen in quite some time. Except when you had been lying in bed tangled with Jimin, having late night conversations as the moon is your only light source. His chocolate irises tell some much, without a single word being spoken. Somehow, you felt everything he was feeling. The nervousness, the euphoria, the-

“I love you.”

Next Chapter ->

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©sweethearthigh 2022. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works. Thank You <333

[slutforop81]

IF WE HAD 5 MORE MINUTES (chapter 3)

warnings: fluff, mention of vomiting

When she wakes up, the sky outside the window is dark, her head is still in Finny’s lap, Ant Man is playing on the television, and she has to puke.

It's, like, her head is throbbing, pain no longer dull but sharp and clawing at every inch of her, and she can feel it, can feel it crawling up her throat and she doesn't even have time to give Finny a fair warning before she jerks herself away, staggering towards the hallway bathroom and she knows she won't make it to the toilet so she aims for the sink instead, spewing breakfast and lunch and the really good iced tea she'd been drinking in the car into the pretty marble sink with the shiny silver faucet.

She barely has time to recover before she hears Finny’s footsteps approaching, socked feet on carpet and then a Big hand is on her back, heat seeping through her shirt and coming to curl around her spine like a napping cat.

“Hey,”, he whispers, smoothing back the sweaty fringe from Lily’s forehead and she is still gasping, out of breath, knuckles white as she clutches the edge of the counter. The pain is a little better now, reduced to a dull ache, like her head is being very, very slowly squeezed by a vice instead of, say, crushed under the weight of an anvil. "Babe," he tries again, fingers gently tugging at her shirt. "What can I do?"

When she’s finally able to breathe normally again, the nausea still coming and going in waves though, she manages to croak out, “water, please,”. With that, Finny settles for the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water.  Lily presses her back against the wall, sliding to sit on the cool tiled floor. It feels wonderful against her burning skin, and she shifts so she can lay down, pressing her temple and she has to bite back a groan of relief, eyes slipping shut. It's so nice. It'd probably be nicer if it weren't the tile in their guest bathroom, but she's going to take what she can get.

She’s so lost in the feeling of the freezing tiles soothing her throbbing head that she doesn't even hear Finny coming back down the hallway until hes at Lily’s side, panic-stricken voice slicing through the quiet like a knife and Lily jerks up, only to find Finny with one hand clutching a glass of ice water, the other pressed over His chest like he’s nearly had a heart attack.

"Sorry," Lily mumbles, embarrassed, but not too embarrassed to pry the glass from Finny’s hand and take an almost painfully large gulp of water. "Just resting. Felt nice on my head."

Finny’s eyes are wide, still coming down from the fright of finding his girlfriend lying motionless on the bathroom floor, but he cracks a tiny smile anyway. "You goof," he mutters, fingers smoothing across Lily’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm,”, he mutters under his breath. Lily just looks at him with tired eyes in response. “’m tired,”, she mumbles. she sounds so fragile and helpless, mostly vulnerable.

With that, Finny stands up and takes his girlfriends hands in his, “come on, were going to bed,”, he says with a sigh as he helps lily back on her legs. He picks her up bridal style and carries her up the stairs. Once in the bedroom, he deposits her gently onto their shared bed like she's precious cargo before crawling onto the bed next to her, lying on belly and kicking his legs up, crossing and uncrossing them like a child. “Finny,”. It's ridiculously endearing and Lily kind of wants to kiss him.

"Finny," Lily repeats, rolling over to get some distance from her Favorite boy in the world. "'M sick. Gonna get you all germy."

Finny chuckles fondly, rolling over so he’s just as close to Lily as when he started. "Don't care. Gonna take care of you, baby." he rests a warm hand on Lily belly.

And yeah. Lily could get used to this.

[obxismylife2]

Savior (Rafe Cameron x y/n)

You're probably wondering what my parents' reaction was when they got home. Rafe told them about the rape, but with my consent because I couldn't do it. Well, they were worried about me the whole time they were gone on their second honeymoon, so it's a wonder they didn't squeeze me when they got home.

Of course, they both thanked the Camerons for taking care of me, and they especially thanked Rafe for keeping an eye on me the whole 14 days. I thanked him too, of course, because sometimes it messed up his plans, but he protected me in spite of it. Basically, we spent almost all of our personal time together.

Except he's been avoiding me for the past 3 months because whenever I wanted to see him I was told he was out somewhere and whenever I ran into him and he saw me he'd walk away. I don't know why, did I do something to him? I'd like to talk to him, but I'm not having any luck reaching him at home.

Right now John and I are on a boat trip, we wanted some time to ourselves to talk like brother and sister. We're not siblings by the way, he's just the brother I've never had. We've been lying around talking for about two hours now.

"Wow, the sun's going down, you want a ride home?" John asked, getting up to stretch his back. "You'd better" I put on a t-shirt and shorts as we also took a swim and John drove me to his cabin. We got in the Twinkie and drove to my house. At home I said hello to my parents and went upstairs to my room to take a shower when I noticed the lights were on in Rafe's room. I didn't hesitate for a second and ran out of the house to the Cameron's where Wheezie answered the door.

"Hi y/n" she hugged me and I hugged her back. "Hey Wheezie, listen is your brother home?" I asked immediately, not wanting to waste a second. "Rafe? No he's not, but Sarah said he should be here any minute. Come in, you can wait for him in his room" she stepped aside so I could step inside.

"Thank you" I patted her head and walked towards the stairs. "Yeah and I'll be in the living room if anything happens" she managed to yell at me before I climbed the stairs and entered Rafe's room. He must have forgotten to turn off the light, no one was here. It didn't look like it always did because he always kept the place kind of tidy, but now it looked like no one had been here in a while.

Clothes, stationery, papers, all strewn all over the room. Even the lamp from his desk had been dropped on the floor. Only his credit card was on the desk. I picked it up and noticed there was a little white powder on one edge.

I noticed something running across the bathroom floor. I turned on the light and saw drops of blood leading up to the sink where most of it was, and then a broken mirror caught my attention. There was Rafe's fist print in the middle from which cracks wound their way to the edges of the mirror. It looked like someone had hit it with all their might and cut themselves from the shards left in their knuckles, hence the drops of blood.

This is not good.

I was a little sick of the blood. Suddenly my phone started vibrating in my pocket. Rafe. I immediately clicked on the accept icon.

"Rafe! Thank God you-" "Hi, little flower," I could tell who it was from the voice. Barry. The person who runied Rafe's life and also r&p€d me. "You're probably wondering why I have Rafe's phone, the answer is easy. He owes me for merchandise and he hasn't paid up. The poor guy is now lying here in a pool of blood waiting for your salvation" I was shaking all over and slid down the wall to the floor.

"Y/n?" I suddenly heard Rafe's voice, but it didn't sound like it usually did. It was like Rafe was beaten and barely got my name out. "Please don't do anything he tells you to do" I suddenly heard a thump, Barry probably punched him and the sound was made by Rafe.

"I want you to bring me $75,000 in an hour or I'll shoot him. I'll send you the address" he didn't wait for my answer and hung up.

What the hell is going on again? And why me? Relax, y/n, calm down. Rafe's in danger. I have to act fast!

Within seconds, I got a text from an unknown number with an address. I noticed Rafe's car keys on the table, so I grabbed them, took a deep breath, and went home. Normally, I'd borrow my parents' car, but it's in the repair shop. The whole engine needs to be replaced.

Luckily, I didn't meet Wheezie or my parents. Back in my room, I grabbed my credit card and headed to the bank. I pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and when I was in front of the bank, I ran out of the car and smashed the front door. I ran up to the counter all out of breath.

"I need to withdraw $75,000 right away" luckily I had money in my own account to pay for college, but in the end I didn't want to continue my education. I was saving it for a major event, like a new place to live or a car, but I'd have to wait for that. Right now, my friend is more important.

"And the name?" The lady behind the counter asked some more questions about my account, then handed it to me in an envelope. "Thank you, you are someone's rescue" the lady was very nice and gave me a smile before I ran off. I threw the envelope on the passenger seat, started the car and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. I used the car's navigation to find the place I needed to go and within 20 minutes I was there.

As I grabbed the envelope, all of a sudden the glove box opened and a gun fell out. Jesus, Rafe! But it'll come in handy. I tucked it into the back of my shorts belt, put the envelope in my pocket and got out of the car. I was standing in front of a large and probably abandoned building. It had no windows at all, either the glass was broken or there were none. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and walked inside.

There were cobwebs everywhere, cracked rotten wood almost falling on my head and one beam almost killed me. Luckily I jumped in time, but again I almost choked on the dust that rose from the ground when the beam hit the ground. There was nothing downstairs, it was covered with beams and everything, so I went upstairs.

I was in some huge hall, and at the far end was a room with lights in it. Rafe! I immediately ran out and when I entered the room I saw Rafe lying in a pool of blood that was dripping from his nose and eyebrows, he was unconscious.

"Rafe!" I screamed and tried to run to him, but Barry stopped me with a gun to my forehead. Suddenly, I was back to the fear I had when he r&p€d me. My knees started to shake, my palms were sweating and my throat was dry.

"Money first, little flower" with shaking hands I slowly pulled the envelope with the money out of my pocket and handed it to him. He accepted the envelope and started to open it, not taking his eyes off me. My hands were still raised to my head and when he miscalculated he smiled at me tucked the envelope into his back pocket and continued to point the gun at me.

"Good to see you again flower, how about a repeat of last time?" He stepped closer to me until I was almost on the wall. "Don't you dare touch her!" suddenly Rafe knocked Barry to the ground until he actually knocked the gun out of his hand. Barry was on the ground and Rafe was sitting on top of him, punching him a shard as he was able to.

Suddenly they rolled over and this time Barry was on top. He started punching Rafe with his fists, I couldn't watch it so I pushed Barry to get him to fall off Rafe.

Only he grabbed my arm, so I fell with him and ended up underneath him. He grabbed me below the neck and started choking me. I tried to get his hands off of me with both hands, but unfortunately for me he was stronger.

"You shouldn't have teased me flower" he gripped my neck even tighter and I could almost see the darkness. Luckily for me Rafe wasn't unconscious and threw Barry away from me. I took a deep breath and tried to catch my breath. I had to clear my throat and roll over onto my stomach so I could breathe normally again.

When I looked at the fight next to me, I saw Barry beating Rafe. I picked up Rafe's gun and fired it at the ceiling. Barry got scared and got off Rafe. He was unconscious. I knelt down next to him and tried to wake him up.

"Rafe? Rafe can you hear me? Rafe please wake up" Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to wake Rafe up with little slaps.

"Rafe please don't do this to me" still nothing. With every passing second that I failed to wake him up, I was losing hope of ever seeing him happy and full of life again. Or that we'd go out again, to the movies, to the beach, to Charleston. It was like a piece of me was dying before my very eyes.

"Rafe please, I need you" after those words, one slap was all it took to finally wake him up. He slowly opened his eyes and frowned when he saw me.

"Are you okay?" Rafe let out, rolling onto his side to clear his throat. Drops of blood appeared on the ground. He's bleeding internally. Suddenly, I heard police sirens in the distance.

"You bitch, you brought backup, huh?" Barry pointed his gun at me. I did the same thing which he didn't expect and I fired right next to him as a warning. "I'm not afraid of you anymore." "Then you're gonna pay for this." he unholstered his gun and pulled the trigger.

Well, that's the end of me. I didn't even get to say goodbye to my parents, the pogues, and Rafe. At least I can protect him like this. I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my fate. I felt Rafe grab my shoulders and pull me down. I opened my eyes and saw a growing red spot on his chest.

When I realized what had happened I laid him on his back and tried to stop his bleeding chest with my hand. "Y/n" he couldn't speak, the bullet had probably punctured his lung, a stream of blood was pouring from his mouth.

"Rafe hang in there you'll be okay, just please stay with me" Barry meanwhile ran downstairs where the cops caught him, I know because I heard them calling for him to get down on the ground.

"Go to this address, I have all my savings stored there. It's....all yours. And the house is in your name, so you can live in it" He handed me the note with the address, which was now covered in blood, and closed it in my palm. "What?" I was completely confused. What savings? What house? And written in my name?

"I love you y/n, I tried to tell you before but I didn't want to rush it" I couldn't even see anymore, tears filled my eyes so much my vision blurred. I pressed one hand against Rafe's chest to keep him from bleeding and stroked his hair with the other.

He lifted his hand and stroked my cheek. It took a lot of strength, but he did it anyway. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled. Then his eyes closed and his hand fell back to the floor. That's when the police burst in.

"Stand back miss," one of the cops pushed me away and immediately two others rushed over and pushed him to the spot where Barry had shot him. The cop led me out of the building and put me in an ambulance that was parked a short distance from the building.

"Are you okay, miss? Are you all right?" The young paramedic spoke to me, checking my eyes. The other one took my blood pressure and then threw a blanket over me.

"We're going to take you to the hospital," one of the doctors in the ambulance said as he sat me down on a gurney. The other closed the door and got behind the wheel. "Please there's another person inside, you have to save him" I cried there and he grabbed my shoulders and looked intently into my eyes.

"Calm down miss, the paramedics are already with him" we arrived at the hospital within minutes and I was taken to the emergency room. "Miss (your full name), born in (the year of your birth), abrasions, hematomas in the neck area, probably in shock" the paramedic said, handing some paper to the doctor.

"Okay, thank you" the paramedics left and the doctor gave me the same examination as the paramedic. "You look fine, we'll just keep you here overnight for observation because of your shock" the doctor said and then the nurse took me to my room.

"Nurse, will you please inform me when a young boy with a gunshot wound to the chest is brought in?" "What is your relationship with him?" "He's my boyfriend" I said without thinking and she put an IV in my vein.

"That's so beautiful, young love. He's been transferred to the OR now so you'll have to wait" She put the little pin that monitors heart activity on my finger and then left.

I couldn't sleep at all. The other day went out of my room and into the corridor. I looked around to see what floor I was on. I went to the elevators and noticed a sign that said 5. Floor. I took the elevator down and went to the front desk.

"Hello, could you please tell me where Rafe Cameron is?" I blurted out to the receptionist. "You arrived just before him, are you his girlfriend?" A young pretty girl asked. About my age. "Yes, I am."

"Rafe Cameron, 5th floor, room 114" she replied. "Thank you so much" I ran back to the elevators and wanted to press the button with number 5 on it but the nurse, who took care of me spoke up. "Hello y/n y/l/n, are you going to see him?" I nodded and she walked over to me and put a four-leaf clover shaped key ring in my hand.

"It's always brought me happiness, it brought a wonderful man into my life and I have a family with him. All my dreams have come true, so hopefully it will bring you that happiness too" I looked at it. It just fit in my palm, it was silver, it had a hallmark on the other side and it was a beautiful green color, like well watered grass.

"Thank you" I hugged her with emotion and then pressed the button to call the elevator. I stepped inside and pressed the number 5 button.

"Yeah and he should wake up today" she managed to say before the door closed. Wake up? Today? I smiled with joy and ran out of the elevator. I found Rafe's room and opened the door. He was still asleep. I closed the door behind me and sat in the chair next to him. I held the four-leaf clover in one hand and Rafe's hand in the other.

Please God, I pray to you that Rafe is okay.

I let go of his hand and brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen from his face. When I looked at him, he suddenly looked so beautiful. I've never had that happen before.

I remembered finding him lying on the ground in a pool of blood. It hurt me inside, Rafe's not a bad person, he's just misunderstood and looking for comfort, that's why he's doing drugs. It makes him feel powerful, capable of anything, but I'm gonna help him out. I'm not gonna let him ruin his life like that.

I'll never meet another person as kind and selfless in my life. I can't lose him, and I'll take care of it. I'll take care of him.

Suddenly, it's like a light went on in my stomach. The damaged butterflies seem to have recovered from their breakup with JJ and have a new lease on life. Like wild horses running for freedom in the open spaces that are their home. They have a home where they feel happy and safe. That's how I feel about Rafe. God sent him to look after me and make me happy. He's my guardian angel.

I kept looking at him and admiring his beauty. Detail by detail, he was etched in my mind. The longer I looked at him, the more I remembered every part of his facial features.

Suddenly, someone squeezed my hand. I looked down at my wrist and saw Rafe's hand.

[night-garden-fic]

Chapter Six: If That Old Moon Could Remember Us

(Read on AO3)

"Happy birthday, Ed!"

Chapter Six: If That Old Moon Could Remember Us

     "Well, anyway...  How's your sleep been lately?"

     Edward withdrew the chilly stethoscope, carefully draping it over his shoulders.  Russell shuddered slightly at the sensation, then tugged down his undershirt.

     "Can't complain, I guess...  I've been managing to get some."

     Tori had to wake you up for work yesterday, but there's no need to mention that.

     Edward's smile was disarming.  For some reason, it made Russell a little sad.

     "...Good!  See?  What did I tell you?"

     Remember, you aren't actually lying to him.

     Russell shrugged with a placid, slightly nervous smile.

     "That I just needed to learn how to rest?"

     The real untruth, of course, was in the idea that Russell had anything to learn in the first place.  He already knew, from much experience, what helped him rest and find calm.  It was only a matter of taking things into his own hands, and he thought he'd done so effectively, if just a bit dishonorably.

     Edward noisily scrawled something on his chart, with an unrestrained enthusiasm that made Russell's heart ache.

     "...That's the ticket.  Moving on...  Your lungs still aren't where we want them.  Maybe I'm mistaken, but I'd almost say you sound a little worse this time."

     Russell suppressed a grimace.  How long had he spent bent over the bathroom sink that morning, choking on his own congealed fluids?

     Apparently, not quite long enough.

     "Yeah...  I don't know.  It got really cold and dry all of a sudden.  Everything feels kind of raw."

     Also not exactly a lie.  You're doing fine.

     Edward nodded thoughtfully.

     "Right...  Well, it's definitely nosebleed weather out there."

     Instinctively, Russell delicately swiped under his nose with the knuckles of his right hand.  A few flakes of dried blood came away with them, almost black and crumbled to nearly microscopic.

     He didn't notice.  And even if he did, he just told you it isn't anything out of the ordinary.

     "Anything I can do, besides wait for spring?"

     Edward didn't look up from his clipboard, where he was scribbling busily.  Russell always wanted to steal a glance at those notes, in all their messy mystery.

     Could they tell me anything I don't already know?

     "I mean, that's probably the best course of action...  But otherwise, I'd suggest using some steam.  Put the kettle on, stand over that...  Hell, go have a good soak at the Bathhouse.  That'll solve more problems than you think."

     Medical exams often brought out a guarded, almost oppositional streak in Russell; a quiet petulance that sometimes surprised even him, though he found the logic of it perfectly reasonable: he just wanted to be fixed, once and for all, and be done with it.  No prodding, no invasive questions, no tone-deaf advice that he couldn't follow even if he wanted to.

     But then there were the times when the clinical mask slipped, and it seemed to be the real Edward counseling him, and Russell would find that the reluctance and resistance had all but vanished.

     This wasn't a white-jacketed stranger.

     This was Edward.

     His dear friend.  Practical, caring, interestingly earthy.  At times primal, almost sensual.  A man who only wanted those he cared for to be well and at peace.

     A bath.  Of course.

     Russell smiled; sincerely this time, if a bit shaky.

     "...You know, that's a really good idea.  I think I'll head over there as soon as we're done here."

     With a ceremonious flourish, Edward removed the paper from his clipboard and slid it into his desk drawer.

     "...Well, we are, so you'd better!"

     As he stood to leave, Russell felt a small laugh catch in his throat, threatening a cough.  It felt wrong to swallow it, but he didn't want to complicate the situation.

     "Then I guess I am...  Later, Ed."

     Edward was distracted now, getting things in order for whoever his next patient would be.  He glanced up only briefly, but when he did, his smile was achingly genuine.

     "Later, Russell...  See you tonight, right?"

     Russell opened the Clinic's heavy door, cold wind and sharp winter sunlight catching his hair.

     "Of course."

~*~

     The instant Russell sank into the warm water, he knew he'd been long overdue.

     The wash basin at home was good enough for keeping clean, but there was really no substitute for a proper bath.  As he let the warmth envelop him, he almost felt his body dissolving like a sugarcube, his tangled thoughts unspooling around him like scrolls.

     Carefully, he examined each one, holding them up to the fire of his mind, as one might hold an invisible ink message to a candle.

     You're basically lying in the heart of the Earth, you know.

     Russell had read a thin volume—little more than a pamphlet—about the geothermal spring that ran beneath Kardia, and its serendipitous discovery by a poor farmer who was trying to dig a well.  He wondered how it must have felt, to break the dark soil with a spade and find oneself doused in mineral-scented, comforting heat.

     He tried to imagine it for a moment, running his hands through the silken water.  Then he let his mind drift again.

     Remember the first time you came here?

     Remembering, for Russell, was always a slightly risky prospect.

     Luckily, this was a memory that made him laugh; albeit at his own pathos and awkwardness.

     He couldn't remember if it was his second or third day in Kardia, and probably wasn't sure even then.  All he knew was that he was sore, grimy, exhausted, and much in need of a good, long soak.  So he wandered blearily into the dark little bathhouse, wordlessly setting a few coins on the counter.

     And then—having already bathed her in the sink that afternoon—he nonchalantly passed Cecilia's small, clean, swaddled body to the girl behind the counter; who wore peculiar witch's clothes, and couldn't have been older than fourteen.

     Gods, what was I thinking?

     Later, he'd come to know the girl as Melody, and find out that she, inexplicably, owned the place.  But, even taking this into account, the situation was exactly what it looked like: a grown man palming off his child on a politely bewildered adolescent stranger, with no explanation or indication as to when he'd be returning.

     You stayed in the water for two hours, too.

     Something in Russell's severely fatigued body, or perhaps in his partially fractured mind, had simply ground to a halt as soon as he felt his limbs begin to float, so he never even managed to actually wash himself; only to lie back staring blindly at the ceiling for so long that he heard three other people getting in and out of the bath.

     Melody had to walk into the men's bath with one hand over her eyes just to make sure you hadn't drowned or dashed.

     In truth, it wasn't much different from how he felt now, as he lay there with the heat of the Earth dissolving him into a rich broth of hot blood and spiraling thoughts.  Russell pulled himself together, and felt around for the thin complimentary bar of Melody's homemade soap.

     Once he found it, he breathed deeply of its scent; as herby and strange as the girl's mysterious tinctures.  Quite pleasant, really, but obviously meant for the outside of the body.

     Poor thing is missing her calling.

     Russell turned the small bar over and over in his hands, releasing more of that compelling scent and working up a thick lather.  He washed his hair and face first, making his way down.

     Just try not to linger.

     As always, he tried to ignore the slight, scattered ridges of scars, but ultimately couldn't keep himself from cataloging them.  The best he could do was try to do so as dispassionately as possible, as though he were conducting his own autopsy.

     Upper arm, grazed by an arrow during a training exercise.  Caught a demerit for taking a swing at the guy.

     Ball of the left thumb.  I was never any good at using my utility knife.

     Two on the ribs.  They had to decompress my lungs in the field.

     That violet-rimmed darkness hovered over him again, threatening to descend.

     No.  You're okay here.

     There was no need to count the ruin of his solar plexus.  It counted itself; the singed nerves making themselves known no matter how delicately he grazed the skin.

     Deep breath.  That was a long time ago.  You're all healed now.

     (Am I?)

     Below that point, save for a few dings on his knees and shins that he honestly couldn't remember acquiring, Russell's skin was mostly unmarred; as blessedly blank as any part of him could still be.

     Except...

     ...Sometimes, Russell forgot he even had a tattoo.

     If, indeed, such a small and concealed thing could even count as a proper tattoo.  It was a lopsided circle, about the size of a Gold coin; situated on the crest of one hip, just below where the waist of his trousers typically sat.

     Allegedly, it was a compass, but the details were blurry even with his glasses, and nearly indistinguishable through the rippling of the water and the warped lenses of his naked eyes.  A design likely intended for sailors, but one that Russell had chosen simply because he felt lost.  As though this would put a magnet in his brain, like the one in certain birds, and eventually lead him home.

     It did something else, remember?

     Russell went in knowing that he had something of a taste for pain.  And, for that matter, that he hadn't been touched in months.  Lying there for over an hour, the rhythmic pulse of the needle piercing his skin over and over again, the artist's hand cupping his hip, pulling the delicate skin taut...

     (Gods, I was so alone back then.)

     ...Really, he should have known to avoid the parlor altogether.  Known that he would spend the whole time half-hard and mortified; almost too embarrassed to stand up when they were finished.

     Even now, just thinking about that slender needle, that strong hand...

     Don't work yourself up.

     Russell, of course, was already worked-up.  Almost unconsciously, he began reverently clutching at his wrists, but it was no use.  The pain there didn't reignite anymore.  The bruises were yellowed, spent, decayed.  Still, he examined them with some fascination.

     Edward didn't mention them.

     Indeed, Edward hadn't mentioned any incidental minor injury in at least two years.  Russell simply assumed that he'd figured out what was going on, and respected that it was all a bit personal.  One day, Edward casually asked him if he was being safe, and seemed satisfied with a single curt "yes."  That question, Russell supposed, could have meant anything.  But he still couldn't help but notice it never came up after that.

     It had been as honest as any answer he'd provided to Edward over the years.  But sometimes, to look at himself when he and Lady Ann were through, he honestly didn't know.  She never tied the ropes tight enough to bruise on their own, but Russell tended to squirm, and had the kind of fair skin that didn't hide damage very well.

     No wonder Edward thought...

     ...Well, Russell didn't know what Edward thought.  That he was really hurt, and not just playing, he supposed.

     Whatever the assumption, they'd both long ago dropped the matter.  Russell didn't talk about it, but he also didn't make excuses for not taking off his coat anymore.  And Edward had stopped pressing him, but never averted his eyes.

     A distance, and an understanding.

     As had always been their way.

     Good old perplexing Edward.

     Russell couldn't help grinning as he dipped his head below the water, shaking the suds from his hair.

     He's waiting for you!

~*~

     An hour later, and carrying with him a rather unwieldy jug of spiced wine, Russell arrived at Edward's door.  He knew he was expected, and it wasn't clinic hours, so he decided he wouldn't bother to knock.

     "...Ed?  ...Hello?"

     The hot bath had done its job.  Though a bit hoarse from coughing, Russell's voice was clear and uncongested.

     The voice that answered back sounded inexplicably far away.

     "...That you, Russell?"

     He stepped across the threshold, closing the door against the chill behind him.

     "As far as I know!"

     He passed the waiting and exam rooms and entered the dwelling proper, following the sound of Edward's voice.

     "Then come on back!"

     Edward was waiting in the kitchen, seated at the table with a book.  His long hair fell over his face and onto the pages, as though he'd grown so absorbed in the story that he'd begun putting out tendrils.  Russell placed the jug on the table with an exaggerated thump.

     "Happy birthday, Ed!"

     With a similar theatrical flair, Edward clapped his book shut.

     "...Thank you very much, my friend.  Now, go warm that stuff up!"

     Russell picked up the jug again, and found the heavy copper pot already sitting on the stove.  He had only to light the range, then tip the rich red liquid into the pot.

     Then all that was left, of course, was to wait.  He took a seat in the empty chair opposite his friend, tilting his head inquisitively.

     "So...  What are you reading there?"

     Edward slid the book across the table.

    "It's a compendium of essays on medical ethics.  Went to press last year, I think."

     Russell picked up the book, thumbing through the pages thoughtfully.

     "Hmm...  Interesting.  We don't have this one yet."

     It wasn't a subject he was particularly familiar with, but the words that the book held within looked mysterious and tantalizing.  Certainly, it would be more interesting than the military history book he'd been fighting through, or the endless bone-dry bedtime rereads.

     With a surprisingly sharp pang of loss, Russell handed the book back to Edward, who delicately placed it back on the table.

     "Maybe I'll donate it when I'm finished.  I mean, if I can just read it whenever I want either way..."

     Since when do I not read for pleasure?  How did this happen?

     "Well, that would be much appreciated, but you certainly shouldn't feel obligated...  Anyway,  how's your day been so far?  Do anything special?"

     Edward shrugged, looking as though he might be remembering something funny.

     "Honestly, it's been quiet...  Camus made us grilled skipjack for dinner, though."

     Russell suspected there was a story there.

     "Oh?  How was that?"

     The doctor's strange look of amusement gave way to a sympathetic shake of the head.

     "I've never had fish so overcooked.  Poor kid doesn't have much of a future as a chef, I don't think."

     Briefly, Russell thought back with pride to the bread he'd sampled at Sabrina's house.  Then he remembered he didn't actually know if Cecilia had actually made what he'd eaten, so he decided it wasn't particularly relevant.

     "Well, we can't all be geniuses in the kitchen...  Heaven knows, I can't judge."

     For a moment, silence fell between them.  Then Edward seemed to sniff the air.

     "...I think Emmett might be a genius, though."

     The wine in the pot had gone steamy and fragrant.  Russell breathed deeply.

     "Yeah, it's kind of unquestionable."

     Edward stood, sliding his chair neatly back under the table.

     "Well, shall we?"

     Russell followed suit, pulling two stout earthen mugs out of the cupboard.  They had always reminded him of Edward himself, in their solid straightforwardness.

     "That's why I'm here."

     Edward rooted through a few messy drawers.  His kitchen was almost as plain and sterile as the Clinic itself, but he didn't keep it half as tidy.  Eventually, he found a ladle, and placed it in the pot.

     "Would you be okay if we enjoyed this up on the balcony?"

     What did he mean by that?

     Russell decided that he probably didn't mean anything.  Or at least, not anything worth dragging down the moment over.  He forced a smile, and miraculously felt his enthusiasm return.

     "...Oh, I think I'll survive!"

     Edward briskly lifted the pot by both handles.

     "Well, then!  Let's just try not to fall down the stairs."

     Heading upstairs with a pot of hot, sloshing wine was tricky work, but Edward was always careful, so they managed.  Russell, carrying only the mugs, made it up first, and watched in fascination from the hallway.  This was the kind of thing that he usually managed to make into a riotous disaster, but his friend made it look almost effortless.

     I remember men like this.

     He'd served with many of them.  Graceful and strong, usually tradesmen or farmboys.  Trying to keep up with them always made Russell feel gawky and incompetent, but the command they had of their bodies was interestingly alien to him.

     "...Do you need any help?"

     He wasn't exactly sure what he could have done, and Edward was already nearing the top of the stairs, so it might have been a silly question.

     "If there's snow on the balcony, you should probably go kick it off."

     That, I can probably manage.

     Russell entered Edward's bedroom, which completed an eccentric triad with the Clinic and the kitchen: tidy, yet not sterile.  It reminded him of everything he'd always found so comforting about libraries, with its lived-in furnishings and neatly shelved books.

     He looked over his shoulder, making sure Edward was getting on okay with the pot, then opened the door to the cozily shadowed half-moon of the balcony, where a bit of snow had indeed accumulated.  He slid it through the railings with his boot and sat down on the cold, damp wood.

     "Okay...  All clear."

     Edward soon joined him, placing the pot between them and plopping down with a satisfied sigh.  Russell took up the ladle, filling their mugs to the top.  They sat quietly for a while, watching the sun as it began to set over the hushed, white landscape of Kardia.

     This was a tradition of theirs, and it had begun simply enough.

     During his second winter in Kardia, Russell learned that Edward's birthday wasn't far off, and he wanted to do something special for his friend.  But he was unsure what Edward might like for a gift, and wasn't much use in the kitchen, so the best he could come up with was a pot of mulled wine and the dubious pleasure of his company.  To his surprise, they both ended up having so much fun that, the following year, Edward actually asked to do it again.

     By now, of course, he didn't have to ask at all.  It simply came around with the season, as inevitable as the snow itself.

     Russell breathed in deeply through his nose, then exhaled, very slowly, through his mouth; watching the breath escape in a white river, then vanish into the brilliance of the sky.  The air was sharply cold, and it bothered his torn sinuses, making him squint and sniffle.

     Use some steam.

     He held the mug up to his face and inhaled.  It did soothe the burn, but he swore the alcohol in the vapors was already making his head spin.  Probably, it was just his imagination; brought on by anticipation, and the relief of the hot mug in his cold hands.  He blew on the wine's dark surface and took a sip, its earthy tang and sweet spice filling his mouth and fortifying his heart.

     "It's good this year."

     Edward, apparently, had gotten a bit ahead of him, and probably already knew.  Still, he took a careful sip, which he rolled around on his tongue thoughtfully.

     "I'd say it is...  It's good every year, though."

     Russell sipped twice, trying to catch himself up a bit.

     "True enough.  It's always a little different, though."

     Edward considered this for a moment and nodded.

     "I think Emmett likes to experiment."

     He used to test new drinks on you and Sabrina after closing time, remember?

     "Yeah...  That, he does."

     That, it seemed, settled that.  The wine was delicious, the deliciousness was different every time, and the red sun was still shining through the bare, bare trees.  The two men watched in wonder as ice seemed to turn to fire, mugs emptying and then filling again.

     Halfway through their second mug, Edward called out, making Russell jump.

     "...Son!"

     Below them, a ruddy-faced Camus was crunching through the snow, on the way home from his little farm.

     "Hey, pop!"

     He stopped to wave at them as he approached the Clinic's doorstep.  Russell waved briefly, then returned his attention to the hot mug of wine.  Edward leaned forward, nearly sticking his head through the railings.

     "Come up and drink with us!"

     Camus shook his head.

     "Pop...  Some of us have to go to work in the morning."

     Edward drained his mug, then leaned back again to top off Russell's and refill his own.

     "...Gods' sake, I'm the town doctor!  The hell do you think I do all day?"

     Camus shrugged.

     "Drink with your little buddy up there?"

     Edward took a pointed sip.

     "I said all day, not all night."

     Russell laughed, then thought about this for a moment.  He and Edward drank together on occasion, but never all night, and the idea of doing so sounded strangely comforting.

     Well, there was that one time...

     He shook his head, dispelling the thought.  Below them, Camus had his hand on the door.

     "I stand corrected, then...  Goodnight, pop!  And Russell."

     Leaning against the railings again, his long hair reflecting the red of the sun as it swirled in the icy breeze, Edward called after him.

     "Goodnight, my son!"

     Then he sighed, taking a long pull from his mug and shaking his head.  Russell blew on his wine again, then took a hearty, satisfying gulp.

     "He's turning into a serious one, isn't he?"

     Edward shrugged, the fading orange sun-fire now caught in his glasses.

     "I love the kid...  But sometimes, I feel like we have nothing in common."

     Russell considered this thoughtfully.  He often looked to Edward and Camus's relationship for a roadmap to he and Cecilia's own future, if a somewhat discouraging one.

     She's too young for me to know who she really is just yet.

     (Will she still want to be friends with me?)

     "...What's that like, Ed?"

     The sun had sunk until all that remained was a belt of rich orange at the horizon.  Edward's eyes were fixed on the blazing, dying light.

     "It's like...  What it is, I guess.  We don't have to understand each other to be there for each other.  And at least it seems like he's planning to stick around now."

     Though their emotional distance saddened him a bit, Russell never quite understood why Edward seemed so willing to die on the hill of Camus living in town.  Surely, if Cecilia wanted to strike out on her own one day, he'd be happy for her.

     And honestly, what right would I have?

     Still, when he thought of making a life for himself without her around, Russell felt lonely and unmoored.  Cecilia was, quite literally, his reason for being.

     "That makes you happy?"

     Edward was silent for a few moments, and seemed to be taking great effort to find the right words.

     "I'd say...  It's just for the best.  He's too young to know what things were really like in the Empire.  Doesn't know what he'd be going back to."

     Russell listened intently.  Edward was about as open with the exact details of his past as he was; which was, to say, not at all.  Still, he'd always felt a desire to better understand his friend.  Even if the implication was that, eventually, it would be his turn to open up.

     But Edward, it seemed, had said all he wanted.  The pair drained their mugs in silence, and Russell refilled them.  By now, the wine was cooling rapidly, still hot enough to warm them through, but no longer too hot to sip without caution.

     They'd be drinking in earnest now.

     As heads began to swim and hearts began to lighten, conversation returned; the two men testing it with delicate, careful tongues.

     Waiting for it, too, to cool off a bit.

     And, soon enough, they were laughing again, speaking of nothing in particular, or simply sitting in companionable silence, bathed in the eerie blue light of the fading sun.

     They did not, in the end, drink all night.

     But, they at least drank until the pot was empty.

     Until they both began shivering in the cold night, as the scintillating ice crystal of the waning moon rode high in the sky.

~*~

     Russell lay in bed, awake and tipsy.

     Too tipsy, he figured, to safely medicate himself.

     At first, he thought the wine on its own would be enough to put him to sleep.  But so far, all it did was make him feel edgy and oddly vulnerable.  His head, filled with a peculiar mix of sharp and tender thoughts.  His heart, heavy.  Not with despair, but with what felt like every feeling at once, his ribs sagging with the weight of it all.

     Primarily, he realized, he felt unsettled.

     (Unsatisfied?)

     Yes, he was unsatisfied, but he wasn't sure why.  The night had been as close to perfect as he supposed it was possible to get.

     But do you even know what's possible?

     Russell buried his head in his pillow, sighing harshly.

     He always enjoyed drinking with Edward, but it somehow always left him feeling like something else should have happened.  Some climax, or crescendo, or perhaps a mere coda.  One of those irrevocable words that all seemed to begin with C.

     The trouble was, he didn't know what he was expecting.

     Was he merely hoping that, if only for a few minutes, their distance would dissolve?

     It's not like it hasn't happened before.

     Suddenly, his mind was filled with silvery, reflected light.  It bounced crazily off the moon, the cobbles, the roses, the lenses of Edward's glasses.

     Russell groaned.

     I made such an ass of myself that night.

     When he was sober, the very thought of that evening scraped across his mind like cheap chalk on an old slate.

     But now, almost as drunk as he had been then, the memory took on its original qualities.  Himself and Edward, together.  The dark of the night pulled protectively around them, and the calm eye of the moon keeping watch.

     It was the same moon—near-halved and diminished from that sparkling night—that watched Russell through his window.

     The same moon that rose on them as they sat on the balcony, skin burning red with the wine and the cold. How, if it could, might that old moon remember us?

[companionwolf]

Awakening

Summary: After escaping Emmett's apartment and the cops, Jacob finally wakes up. Happens sometime during the night/early hours.

CW/TWs: None

Jacob comes to consciousness slowly.

Initially, there's just the pain - it's all over his body, down to his bones. His head throbs intensely, and he's not even opened his eyes yet.

Jacob sinks back down to a semi-awake state, the world going fuzzy further as his brain decides he's not there and because of that, there is no pain.

He drifts for a while in that place, vaguely aware of the sounds of someone moving around the room. Is he at a hospital? That'd make sense.

When Jacob rises again to full consciousness, the pain is there still, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay present, fingers gripping the sheets of the bed so tight his knuckles go white--

Wait, he's in a bed?

It doesn't feel like a hospital bed. There's too many pillows, for one thing. He tries to move and instantly regrets it; it sends fire across his self, his right leg and left arm and chest burning particularly bright. Fuck, ow.

Jacob opens his eyes.

The lights are off save the one over the sinks in the bathroom area to the far left end of the motel room. This isn't his room; his is...nicer. He glances around; Jean is sleeping in a chair near the door. The woman from the apartment is in the other bed, still out. Joy is asleep on the floor.

And Jay? Where is Jay?

The sound of running water -- Jacob looks toward it. Jay's by the sink, filling a flimsy paper cup and pouring out some kind of medication from a bottle onto the counter. They leave the light on as they come over to sit on the end of Jacob's bed, carrying the water and 2 pills.

"You're up," they say quietly, glancing Jacob up and down. "Was getting worried you might not."

"I think I got hit by a truck," Jacob says.

"From what we can put together, you did something equivalent," the other agent says.

And Jacob remembers. At least a little.

The cops downstairs, him trying to follow the others but tripping over a floorboard. Deciding that the window was the best action, charging right through it -- he remembers glass breaking. Then things get fuzzy. Sensation of falling? Then nothing.

Wait, there's something else, he remembers. Yellow mucus? Yellow something. Something in the tank moving. The sense of vindication.

"You got lucky," Jay goes on. "You could have died, you realize that?"

"There was a fish tank," Jacob says.

Jay frowns. "What?"

"Upstairs, in that room with the photos," he says. "We didn't see it before in the dark but when I fell, I did, because of my flashlight."

Jay doesn't say anything for a minute.

Then: "Sure." They don't sound convinced. Jacob pouts at them.

"I'm being serious!" he says.

Jay hands him the water and pills.

"This is all we've got," they say. "Take it. Might help."

He struggles with the water, so much he nearly drops it. Jay takes it back as he puts the pills in his mouth. Then, the other agent holds the water to his lips, helping him drink. He shudders at the bitter aftertaste as the pills go down.

"How do you feel?" asks Jay, pulling away from him when they're sure the pills are swallowed.

"Take a wild fucking guess," Jacob answers.

Jay snorts. "Yeah, stupid question," they say. They stretch, arms above their head, and then stop, wincing hard, a hand going to press against their back.

Jacob frowns at them. "You okay?"

"After your stunt we pulled one of our own," Jay explains. "Took out the two cops in the place. One of them shot me. It's fine-- Jean fixed it."

A pause.

"I'm glad you missed it," they add on. "I don't think you'd, uh, have handled it very well."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not as quite ... ready for that kinda thing," Jay says. "Killing people, I mean. We did that. Well, Jean and Joy did. I tried my best, didn't get very far."

Jacob is quiet.

Then: "You know you coulda just left." The words ache more than he does. Someone in him wails. But it's true. Maybe it'd even been better. Why did they stay? They could have left. He'd have been okay. Somehow.

The other agent stares at him. "Jacob," they say slowly, "you and I both know that would have been a worse idea."

"But you guys got hurt," he says.

Jay shrugs. "It's part of the job," they say. "You should try to reconcile with that sooner rather than later. That and the murder aspect of this."

"...Right," Jacob says. His voice is pained.

Jay sighs at him. There's that weird look on their face again. Jacob can't understand it -- there's annoyance, but it isn't mean. More than that, there's... he doesn't know what it is, but it's almost soft.

"Go back to sleep," they say. "I'm on watch."

"Are we in danger?"

Jay hesitates just a bit too long before answering, "No. We're safe here."

Jacob doesn't really trust that, with the way the other paused. He glances down at his own aching form. "Shit, that hurts."

"You broke a couple things," Jay says.

"Jean set them?"

Jay nods.

"Damn," says Jacob. "I'll make sure to thank them. Beats having a giant hospital bill."

Jay shakes their head. "Couldn't have gone there even if we wanted," they say, and then stop.

Jacob frowns at them. "I mean, I think I get why," he says, "but Jay, is something else wrong?"

"No, it's fine," Jay says. They don't look at him.

Jacob wants to argue, to press, but he hurts.

He lets himself sink further into the bed. "Did we ever figure out the thud?" he asks after a minute.

Jay shakes their head again. "Didn't find Sunday's thing either," they say, sounding frustrated. "Too busy dealing with the cops."

"All we got are those photos, then."

"Yeah," Jay says. "And I guess your claim there's a fish tank in there, but I'm not sure that's real."

Jacob wants to cross his arms, can't. "I did see it!" It's almost a whine. "It had yellow stuff in it."

The other agent raises a eyebrow.

"Yellow stuff," they repeat. "Interesting." They're still unconvinced, and it's obvious by their voice.

Jacob's too tired and in too much to fight them on this one. "Are you sure you're okay to do this by yourself? Keeping watch?" he asks instead.

"I appreciate the concern, but it's not an issue," Jay says. "It'd do you better to get some more rest."

Jacob shuts his eyes, instinctively peels a little away from his body into his head; the pain dulls. That's a lot better.

"Goodnight," he mumbles. "Wake me up if something happens. I'll try to help."

"Of course," Jay says, sounding amused. "I will."

It's been a long day, Jacob thinks wearily. But they're all here and alive. That's something, right? That they got the photos and the woman out alive and none of the agents died there.

It has to be enough.

[unseededtoast]

Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 32/37 | Part Thirty One, Part Thirty Three

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

I know how much influence Tony has in Shield, it's a matter of whether the council will listen to reason or money.

My palms are sweaty as I brush out my hair, the handle slipping from my hand and onto the floor. I forget about brushing it to perfection and grip the edge of the sink until my knuckles turn white. I close my eyes and focus on not getting sick. The hours ticked by entirely too quickly.

I hear Bucky come up behind me and he finishes brushing my hair for me. He hugs me from behind and places a gentle kiss on the back of my head. I melt into his touch and bite my lip, urging myself not to cry. What if this is the last time I'll feel his touch?

I turn around and face him, both of us not knowing what to say. Not that there is anything to say, nothing will make us feel any better about what's coming. I rest my head on his chest as he rubs my back comfortingly. I step back from him and put my Shield uniform on, which may be getting replaced with an orange jumpsuit soon. I pull the shirt over my head with shaky hands. Wordlessly, Bucky takes my hands in his and kisses them tenderly. We both know this could be it.

However, I want our final moments together to not be full of dread and misery. I take in a breath and lick my lips, there are still things I want to know from yesterday.

"What did it feel like yesterday, when Wanda put the algorithm in?" I ask. He blinks and tilts his head to the side,

"It was weird. It was like a pressure in my mind, it felt like someone was poking my brain if that makes any sense." He says and I nod.

"That's kind of what it felt like when she was in my mind too. How'd it feel when I said the words?"

"You know, when you said them I felt like I should be doing something but I just didn't. I could hear the words and everything but they just didn't affect me." He says and I smile. It worked perfectly. I walk to the bedside table and pick up the book.

"Shall we?" I ask. Bucky digs in one of his pockets and pulls out a lighter. With a smile on his face he nods,

"I think we shall." We walk into the small bathroom and put the book in the sink.

I watch as he lights the book on fire, the pages turning into ash before our eyes. The red leather takes a while to burn, but it feels so satisfying to see it finally be destroyed. Bucky puts a hand on my lower back as the book burns in front of us, the flames dancing as they burn away the cursed book.

I can rest a little easier knowing that the book is destroyed and the Winter Soldier is dead. I completed my mission that I was given on day one at Shield. Though, it didn't feel like a mission but more of a personal goal. I think it's a blessing we were able to find each other again.

I guess if I am sentenced to prison, these memories will still be here to comfort me. It's like I told my students, that sometimes if people are lucky enough, they'll still have their memories in the end. I look up at Bucky and see a small smile on his face as the last remains of the book burns away.

"You're finally free." I whisper.

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in close to his side. We watch the last of the book turn to black ash, and the flame dies. It's as if another weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel as though I've finally been able to rectify my wrongdoings.

"They won't let me talk to Steve since he's on the council. I have no idea what he's going to do." Bucky says as we walk back into the main bedroom area. He runs a hand through his hair.

"He took a deal with Tony, I bet in return for dropping the case against you Steve has to vote to put me in prison. It's the only thing that makes sense to me." I say.

I remember Steve was the one person I could count on when this all started. We spent almost every hour of every day together, talking about how to get Bucky back. Now here we are, Bucky's back and Steve is voting to put me away for life. Bucky shakes his head,

"If I could just talk to him I could tell him to forget the deal." Bucky says, anger becoming more prominent in his voice.

"You're his best friend, of course he's going to put you above me. I only met Steve a few months ago, he has no loyalty to me." I say.

"If he has any loyalty to me, he'll know how to vote." He says and sits on the bed. He taps his foot on the floor.

"It'll be okay Bucky." I say quietly, the nerves coming back in full force.

Before Bucky can say anything, a knock at the door interrupts our conversation. My heart thumps and I swallow the lump in my throat. Judgement time has come. Bucky and I stand in front of each other, tears in our eyes. I gingerly brush my thumb over his cheekbones as I've done many times before, but I take extra care to memorize how it feels. I take time to soak in the beautiful shade of his eyes, his comforting smell. He rests his forehead against mine.

"No matter what happens I will always love you." He says and kisses me. We pull each other close and I tangle my hands in his hair. Another knock comes.

"I will always love you too, I adore you so much." I say and rest our foreheads together once more. I close my eyes, knowing this is it. I reluctantly turn away from him and open the door. Nat is there, handcuffs in hand, a sorrowful look on her face.

"Please turn around and put your hands behind your back." She says and I comply. I meet Bucky's eyes and see a tear fall down his face, which he quickly wipes away. As Nat pulls me away I look into his eyes until I can't see him anymore.

I keep my head held high as I'm escorted to the hearing. My time with Hydra allowed me to perfect the skill of fake confidence. I call upon my memories of when I had to march through those halls like I wasn't falling apart inside. I walk with purpose and stoicism. Nat leads me into a room and closes the door behind us. She unlocks my handcuffs and places them on a hook drilled into the wall.

"Okay. You're going to go out there in a few minutes. The council will be there, along with two witnesses. They talk, you answer. Good luck." She says and pulls me in for a hug. Though Nat and I never got terribly close, I appreciate this gesture from her. I hug her back and try to shake the nerves away.

She opens the door for me and I walk out into the open room. There's a large rectangular table in front of wall length windows, with a total of five people sitting behind it. This must be the council. I see Steve next to Tony, then Fury, then two other I've never met. Fury rises from the table.

"The council consisting of Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Director Fury, Secretary Ross, and Councilwoman Hawley will be judging the statements of Adalyn Averina and declaring whether a sentence is required." Fury speaks with authority.

"The trial will go as follows: First, miss Averina will give her full detail of the account in question. Next, two character witnesses will be granted time to speak. Then, the council will be allowed to ask any questions they may have. Finally, a determination will be made about sentencing. Miss Averina is facing the possibility of life without parole." He finishes speaking. I stay silent, waiting for them to prompt me to speak. General Ross speaks up as Fury sits back in his seat.

"Miss Averina, the account in question is your involvement in helping two detainees escape from a Shield facility. Please give your full statement." He says and I take a deep breath. All I can do is tell them the truth.

"Thank you. Let me first start by giving context as to why I was at that particular Shield base to begin with. The first day I was employed with Shield I had been given a mission to undo the mental programming of James Buchanan Barnes, better known as Bucky. The mental programming was implemented by me while I was a Hydra operative and allowed Hydra to activate and control what they coined the Winter Soldier. I defected from Hydra and found myself working for Shield." I take a moment to pause and gather my thoughts. The council stares at me with unwavering intensity.

"Of course I accepted the mission to undo the programming. The mission was close to home and I am very grateful I got the opportunity to correct my wrongs. Fast forward a month or so, and the Avengers invaded and wiped out the Sokovian Hydra base where human experiments were known to be conducted there and they found Loki's scepter. The scepter had a gem with supernatural abilities, and had the structure similar to the human mind." I take another pause and lick my lips. I hope they're following this.

"I thought there was a possibility that this could be used to help undo the programming of Bucky. So, when I found out there were twins recovered from that base with superhuman abilities, I had to find out if there was any sort of correlation. I needed to understand the gem. At the same time, Tony Stark wanted to rush and try to apply this new technology to what he called the Ultron protocol." I say and look at Tony, who stares at me with hatred and fire in his eyes.

"I told Bruce and Steve that if he did try to carry out the protocol while I was gone to tell me. I thought that the technology could evolve on its own, and it did. It evolved into something catastrophic. When this happened, Bruce called me and warned me. I knew that the twins would be a target. I felt I had a duty to protect them. Wanda's abilities proved useful and I knew I could ask her to use her abilities to implement an algorithm I created to undo the programming." I say, fighting the urge to get too detailed. I know they don't want the nitty gritty. Plus, three of the five council members already have background information on this incident.

"So I took all three of them to the Sokovian base. I knew the technology would be there to create and test the algorithm, and I did. As of yesterday, the Winter Soldier is dead and James Barnes is his whole self again. It's likely he will continue needing support." I say, ending my account.

Fury stands from the table and straightens his coat. He clears his throat,

"Next I will allow Wanda Maximoff to speak." I watch as another door opens and Wanda walks out. She looks scared. The Director asks her to recall the recent events and her story matches mine. The Director then asks her to make a statement about my overall character and what her recommendation would be regarding sentencing.

"Truth be told, I've been inside her mind before, back at the Shield base where Pietro and I were being kept. I saw every one of her memories. She is the most selfless person I've probably ever met. I saw her intentions and her decision making. She left Hydra because she didn't have the heart to hurt Barnes anymore. She thought if she left it would spare him pain and suffering, even though that meant she had to go through hell herself. She was able to show me the true nature of Hydra. She broke us out of the Shield base to protect everyone. She knew it was a possibility she'd get in trouble but I can say with confidence she would do anything to protect Barnes and those she cares about." Wanda's statement brings tears to my eyes.

She didn't have to say that, put herself out on a limb for me. I give her a small nod of appreciation as she's escorted back into the room. The door opens again and Bucky walks through. I can tell he's distraught, he looks over to me and gives a weak smile, which I return. Once again, the Director asks for his account of the incident. His story matches both mine and Wanda's, and he's able to corroborate that Bruce called to warn me. Fury asks him to make his character statement. He clears his throat,

"Adalyn Averina is the best person I've ever had the privilege of knowing. At Hydra, she was the only one who treated me like I was human. She took care of me, brushed my hair and tried to comfort me after I had just been sent on a mission to kill someone. She's just as much a victim of Hydra as I am. Her compassion is what led to me finally being free. For the first time in about seventy years I'm myself again. If it weren't for her sacrifices who knows if this would even be possible. I owe everything to her, her humanity is what saved us all." He says and his voice starts breaking at the end.

I want nothing more than to go and comfort him. He should be celebrating his freedom right now, not trying to keep me out of prison. He's escorted out of the room, and we're able to meet each others eyes once more before he's out of sight. Quickly, I wipe my eyes of any stray tears and wait for the council to speak. General Ross stands from the table with a question,

"Miss Averina, if you knew that the robots were coming, why not warn anyone else?" He makes a fair point. I clear my throat,

"General Ross, when I received that call from Dr. Banner my only focus was getting the three of them to safety. I knew Director Fury and Miss Romanoff had their own duties, and the chain of command would take too long to get through. I told Dr. Banner once in Mr. Stark's laboratory that I would do anything it took to make sure Bucky was okay. After all it was my mission to protect and care for him." I answer truthfully. He nods and sits back down. Councilwoman Hawley stands this time.

"Miss Averina, do you think the tragedy in Sokovia would have been avoided if you stayed at the Shield base?" She asks.

"Councilwoman Hawley, I do not think that by staying at the Shield base the incident in Sokovia would have been avoided. The tragedy at Sokovia could have been avoided if Mr. Stark had waited, like I had suggested numerous times, to truly understand the technology we were in possession of." I answer and see Tony scowl. She nods and sits back down. Tony stands,

"Miss Averina, do you think that keeping information about the involvement of James Barnes in the assassination of Howard and Maria Stark was a wise decision?" He asks. I knew this was likely to happen.

"Mr. Stark will all due respect I fail to see how this pertains to the incident I am on trial for. This sounds like a personal affair." I answer, much to his dismay. Nobody else stands to pose any questions. Fury rises,

"The council will now discuss sentencing options. Miss Averina, please return to the holding room until a conclusion is met." I nod my head and walk back to the room Nat initially took me to.

I chew on my bottom lip and run a hand through my hair. I think I did a good job at presenting the facts of the case, and both Bucky and Wanda went above and beyond in their statements. I just hope it's enough. I know how much influence Tony has in Shield, it's a matter of whether the council will listen to reason or money.

[here2bbtstrash]

heartless (explicit)

genre: pwp, smut, exes hooking up - a part of the jeju shore collab !

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: after a wild summer at the shore where he made more than a few mistakes, jungkook is ready to remind you why you always take him back.

word count: 7.4k

other works in this collab: You DTF? by @haliiimede and Himbo Hours by @gimmethatagustd

contains: explicit sexual content!!! set in 2009, member POV, established relationship (exes), mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol and drug use, jk blows a stranger (definitely not anyone we know 👀) in a bar bathroom, some good ol' fashioned 2009 biphobia lmao, EXCESSIVE use of petnames (kookie and jagi) like it's really too much, cunnilingus, fingering, a lot of pussy appreciation bc of who i am as a person, they make a sex tape 🎥 (reader films jk going down on her), hot tub sex, jk makes reader come with a hot tub jet, unprotected sex (smh 😔), nothing in this fic is sexually healthy pls do not replicate, multiple orgasms/overstim, a lil bit of marking, jk is toxic and i kind of love him oops, don't fight me for the ending

A/N: it's here it's here it's here!!!!! happy jeju shore day 🥰 i'm so excited to share this one with y'all, it really was supposed to be a joke thing like ~sammi and ron vibes~ yknow and then idk.... this fic ran away with me,, like tell me why i ship kookie and jagi lowkey 🥺 over here like maybe one day they'll work it out 🥺 ANYWAY uhhh heed the warnings, this one's a doozy, have fun, stay hydrated 💦 and make sure you check out jai and hali's fics toooooo for your full ~weekend at the shore~ !!!! love you babes, thank you as always for reading 😘💜

read on AO3 !

“Shit, gonna come.”

Thank god, Jungkook thinks to himself. This guy has some impressive stamina, which he’d normally appreciate, but he’s in a bad mood tonight. Getting his throat fucked hasn’t helped like he thought it might.

Even though the guy is cute, with a big body and a sweet set of dimples, Jungkook is just going through the motions. He’s annoyed by the way the bathroom floor is digging into his knees, the way his jaw is starting to lock up with how long he’s been at this.

He shuts his eyes, remembers to breathe through his nose, and then a hand presses hard to the back of his head and his mouth starts to fill, bitter and heady. Careful not to spill a drop, Jungkook keeps his suction tight through the cock-twitches of this guy’s— he didn’t get his name, because he really doesn’t care to know it— orgasm, until he finally feels the fingers in his hair release.

Jungkook gets to his feet and stumbles to the sink, gripping the porcelain edge while he spits out the glossy strings of a stranger’s load. He’s not a swallower, because he’s not gay. He’s just good at sucking dick— and Jungkook likes doing things he’s good at.

“Appreciate it!” The stranger’s voice echoes over his shoulder, followed by the sound of the bathroom door swinging on its hinges and slamming shut, leaving him alone with a sink full of cum.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Jungkook stares himself down in the mirror, runs a hand over his hair to make sure it didn’t get fucked up from that guy’s truly obscenely large hand. Thankfully his extra-hold gel seems to be doing its job.

At the realization that his teeth are grinding together, he presses a knuckle into the hinge of his jaw, trying to encourage it to relax. He’s been clenching all night, and he’s not sure if he should blame the six redbull vodkas he’s thrown back or the keybumps of something he did off the bar: it was either coke or molly.

Coke, he thinks. He’s on edge.

He can’t shake this feeling, like he’s a wild animal trapped in a cage, as he pushes the bathroom door open and presses his way back into the mass of bodies in the club. He’s gone out every night this week looking for something, but he can’t find it. It’s not at the bottom of a bottle or in white powder snorted through a rolled-up hundred. And it’s certainly not in any of the random strangers he’s taken in the bathroom or the back alley or on the hood of his car in the parking lot.

He misses you.

It’s been almost three weeks since you last came around, and even then, it was only to scream at him while you dug your clothes out of his dresser and threw your spare toothbrush in the trash can. All because someone left you that stupid fucking note detailing the night Jungkook went blackout, where the last thing he remembers is Jimin convincing him to switch to Malibu.

If what Jungkook’s been told is the truth, he apparently started a bar fight and had a foursome that night— just, unfortunately, with three people who weren’t you. He kind of wishes he could remember at least one of those.

Fuck this, he thinks to himself, surrounded by trashed club-goers on all sides, bodies slick with sweat and tanning oil, the floor sticky from spilled drinks and probably a few other things. Jungkook knows exactly where he wants to be, and it’s between your thighs, not at one of the seven shitty clubs he and his hyungs have been rotating through all summer.

Figuring Taehyung and Jimin are fine to handle their own shit, he shoves through the crowd a little more aggressively than he needs to, and definitely knocks one drunk girl flat on her ass without bothering to look back.

The slight chill in the air when he steps outside is a welcome relief from the stale heat of the club. It’s the last weekend before everyone packs up and heads for the mainland, which means he’s running out of chances to see you, to try and convince you to get the fuck over this latest bump in the road and take him back.

Jungkook knows he loves you, he’s sure of it. He wants to marry you someday, get a little house in the suburbs, pop out a few kids, all that shit. But right now he’s young, and he just wants to party and have fun. He doesn’t understand why you care so much.

Driving home with the windows down, going a cool 80 in a 40, he grips the wheel with one hand while the other digs his Razr phone out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. He hits the first speed dial where your number is saved and has to call three times before you finally answer. The fact that you picked up at all means he has a chance tonight.

“What, Kookie?!”

Probably the greeting he should’ve anticipated, but his stomach still flips at the nickname. You’re the only one allowed to use it: he’s strictly Jungkook to most, JK to his hyungs.

He fidgets absentmindedly with the car lights, the AC, the button for the windows. This is always the hard part, talking about feelings and shit. But it’s what you want, so he’ll do it for you.

“Wanna see you,” he murmurs into the phone, as if he needs to keep his voice down so he won’t get caught being soft.

“Fuck off,” you snap instantly, but you don’t hang up.

Jungkook’s played this game enough times to know what it means: he’s got a rapidly shrinking window of opportunity to say the right thing. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to buy himself some time. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” You huff.

Stopped at a red light, Jungkook tips his head back against the car seat and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts. “Don’t be mean to me. I already told you I’m sorry, it’s not fair for you to hold this shit over my head.”

“I’m not holding anything over your head, Kookie, you fucking cheated—“

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light changes. “Yeah, I fucking know, okay? But it’s the last weekend. Is this really how you want to leave it?”

The silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.

“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook grimaces, embarrassed to be begging. He wouldn’t do it for anybody else.

Gravel crunches under the tires of his car as he pulls into the driveway, and he’s only sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears the way you sigh softly on the other end. It’s a sigh he knows well.

“Fine.”

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Jungkook. He doesn’t know what else there is to say, or why any of this has to be such a big fucking deal. But he waits, until finally you hang up, and then he flips his phone shut. Girls.

Once inside, he makes quick work of getting everything together: sweeping the empty beer cans on the kitchen counter into the trash, spraying on a little more Hugo Boss, a mouthwash rinse to rid himself of the lingering taste of cum. The place you rented for the summer is just down the road, so it’s as he’s spitting in the sink for the second time tonight that he hears you bang loudly on the front door.

Time to turn on the charm, Jungkook thinks to himself, and then he exits the bathroom and reaches a hand between his shoulder-blades to pull his shirt off over his head. He drops it to the floor of his bedroom before heading down the hallway to let you in.

Jungkook swings the door wide and leans one arm on the frame as he takes you in. You’re standing on his stoop, arms crossed angrily over your pink crop top, belly button piercing glinting in the porch light. He smiles fondly, remembering the summer you got it done, the way you squeezed his hand so tight when the needle went through that he nearly lost feeling.

It was nice then, the way you acted like you really needed him. You used to be so sweet. He wonders when that changed.

It’s been too long. “Hi, jagi,” he says, and it comes out softer than he would’ve liked. It makes him sound weak.

“Fuck off. Answering the fucking door shirtless. You did that on purpose.” You roll your eyes as you brush past him to walk inside.

He turns sideways, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to squeeze through, and when you do, his fingers hook in the belt-loops of your jeans to pull you closer.

“Just like you wore these?” There’s no way you don’t know what those white low-rise jeans do to him. Jungkook always tells you they make your ass look so fat, and even though you complain every time, he means it as an honest compliment.

Clearly still trying to act pissed off, you pop your gum at him, but he knows better than to believe that you’re really mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be looping your arms around his neck and tilting your head up like that, moving so close that he can feel the heat of your breath ghosting over him.

“Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?” You purr, like you don’t already know the answer.

Jungkook’s lips find yours at the same time his hands slide around your hips, fingers sinking into the denim stretched tight over your ass. You squeak a little at how hard he grabs, and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into your mouth, deftly retrieving the wad of gum from between your teeth. He pulls back with a cocky grin and spits it halfway across the yard.

“How about you come inside and find out?”

“Jesus.” You make a face when you step in first, leaving your Gucci flip flops in the front hall, and Jungkook turns back to shut the door behind him as he follows you. “You guys trashed this fuckin’ place.”

He frowns at your utter disregard for his cleaning efforts, but he follows your gaze and, well, you’re not wrong. He probably could’ve done something about all the half-empty liquor bottles, the overflowing ashtrays, the sink full of dishes. But right now he really doesn’t give a shit.

Jungkook closes the distance between you again, arms slipping around your waist from behind, head ducking down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, to make you squirm the way he likes. “This is the bachelor life. We need a woman’s touch,” he murmurs against your skin, and you scoff a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook protests. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to coax a soft whimper out of you. “Why don’t you and I get a place together next summer? I’ll tell Jimin and Tae they’re on their own.”

You hum softly, in the way that tells him you want that, too. But you’re still playing coy, even as your hands slide over his arms locked tight around you. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“Maybe I should do some convincing,” Jungkook’s lips brush over the shell of your ear, and you wriggle out of his grasp, crossing into the living room and tossing your purse on the couch before dropping down unceremoniously next to it.

The wild animal feeling hasn’t dissipated— when he follows after you, Jungkook can’t help but feel like a predator stalking his prey.

It’s probably fucked up, but he likes the chase.

Leaning back on your hands, you gaze up at him, jeans sunk low enough for Jungkook to see the pink straps of your thong that peek out over the curve of your hip. The visual makes his own pants start to feel tight.

You tilt your head expectantly. “I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t gonna talk,” he admits with a smirk, standing over you, one leg teasing your thighs apart.

You reach forward to trail a hand down the defined lines of his stomach— the gym has been good to him this summer— and blink your long lashes innocently. “Will you at least use your mouth?”

“Well, now I know what you came over for,” Jungkook growls. His hands drop to brace on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and he leans down to capture you in a heady kiss. He missed it all: the way you smell, how soft your lips are, the way you still taste like spearmint. Your needy little noises when he licks his tongue into your mouth and the way you suck so diligently on it. You’re always so good for him, always so pretty when you come back.

“Take your pants off, jagi,” he breathes into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. He can feel a soft whine in your throat under his palm when you do as you’re told.

Jungkook pulls back once your jeans are kicked all the way off, knees digging into the carpet as he settles between your legs. His biceps wrap under your thighs and he tugs your bare ass to the edge of the couch, pausing to slip a finger under the thin string of your thong and gently snap it against your skin.

You spread your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion. “Don’t tease,” you huff. The desperation in your voice just turns him on more.

“Impatient,” Jungkook notes with a smirk. “And I haven’t even told you what I want yet.”

“What you want?” Your attempt at sass is undercut by the moan Jungkook works out of you when he sucks another hickey into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He pulls back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver rippling through you, makes your nipples stiffen against the thin fabric of your crop top and your hips tilt up instinctively for more.

His eyes find yours again. “Let’s make a movie.”

“Kookie,” you whine, and Jungkook cups a hand over the front of your panties, rubbing circles into the thin material, then gently squeezing your pussy lips together to help argue his case. He can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.

“Come on,” he murmurs, pushy. “I know you have that camera in your bag.” You take your Sony digital camera with you everywhere, like it’s a third limb, like you believe nothing really happens unless it’s documented on Facebook.

Jungkook reaches for the strap of your Coach purse and drops it between your spread thighs. “I want you to film me while I go down on you. That way you can watch it back when you need to remember why you keep me around.” He punctuates the request with a wink, because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is made evident by how quickly you dig in to retrieve the little pink camera before tossing your bag aside again.

“I don’t watch porn, Kookie,” you scoff, already turning it on and fiddling with the settings. “I’m not nasty like you.”

“You’ll watch this one,” Jungkook corrects, hands pressing on your thighs to encourage them to spread further. Your skin is smooth and warm under his touch as he slides his fingertips back up to the line of your panties. “Now shhh. The only thing I wanna hear talk is this pussy.”

When the telltale beep indicates you’ve started recording, Jungkook stares pointedly into the camera with a cocky smirk. “Missed you, jagi,” he says, both to the you on the other side of the camera and the you who will watch this in the future, when you inevitably get mad about some dumb shit and break up with him again. As if you could ever really stay away.

His eye contact doesn’t falter as he licks a long, slow stripe up the front of your panties, taking his time, tongue laid flat to fully soak through the fabric. When he leans back, one hand snakes between your thighs to tug the damp material to the side, tattooed fingers pressing into a V to spread your folds apart. It always makes you squirm, but he loves to admire you like this. He’s not ashamed to like pussy.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, reaching the hand that isn’t parting your pussy lips up to beckon for the camera. “Let me film. Won’t get your face in it.”

You hand it over silently, clearly already too turned on to make a big show of protesting. Jungkook turns the lens on your pussy, holds it up close as he traces two fingers over your folds, keeping the pressure light enough that you squirm and flutter cutely beneath it.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs when he teases his touch down to your entrance. There’s already enough slickness there to earn him an audible wet noise as he goes, his pattern a slow, lazy circle. He presses a finger in just to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it. “Your pussy loves me too much. That’s why you can’t stay mad.”

Jungkook paints the wetness he pulled out of you up to stroke over the hood of your clit, and it’s enough to edge your breathing with shy sounds. You bring your palm up to your mouth, clearly trying to keep quiet, and it only encourages him to dip back in for more. He uses two fingers this time, slipping past your entrance into the tight velvet heat of your cunt, always so warm and willing for him.

You sigh at the loss when he pulls back, more arousal drooling out of you to chase after his fingers. Jungkook loves to play with you like this: you squeak when he squishes the whole of your cunt up in his hand, reveling in the noise of your slick folds pressing together, in the way your pussy’s gone needy for him. All swollen and puffy, all soft, dripping juice like ripe fruit.

He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whimper.

“You know I’ll always treat it right, jagiya.” Jungkook purrs, releasing his grip on your pussy lips to pinch at your clit while he passes the camera back. “But let me show you in case you forget.”

He firmly tugs your panties down your thighs and leaves them to dangle off one ankle before guiding your legs to hook over his shoulders. After a final glance up to make sure you’re still filming, he leans in to properly trace his tongue through your slick folds, lapping at the arousal pooled at your entrance while his thumb brushes over your clit to work up more.

Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your taste, thick and familiar; he’s gone too long without it. He’s eating properly now, alternating between dragging his tongue flat and flicking it gently over your clit in the way that makes you gasp and shove your hips up towards his mouth, rough and wild, no good-girl pretense left in you.

His arm locks across your stomach to keep you where he wants you, and he pulls back with a smack of his lips and a cheeky smile for the camera.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

This is the part he loves: when you start to come undone, worked up enough to be responsive to every little touch. Jungkook licks broad, showy stripes up to your clit, eyes fixed on you through the lens, enjoying the way your soft sighs blossom into full-out moans, matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. 

“Kookie,” you groan, “nnh, fuck— f-feels so good.”

He hums a laugh against your folds, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit while his mouth buzzes sweet, low notes around it. You arch up beneath him and your moan scrapes rough against the back of your throat, desperate.

It was a stroke of genius to have you film it, Jungkook thinks absentmindedly to himself. Documented proof that nobody else could ever do you this good.

“Fuck.” Your voice brings him back to attention as he continues to pulse suction against your clit, tongue fluttering out again to lap at the sensitive bud. The sounds you make are slightly muffled by the manicured hand you’ve clapped over your mouth, but you’re so loud now that he can still hear every word. “Oh god, Kookie— I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck, ohhhh—”

Your hips tilt up as your orgasm overtakes you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay there and take it. He can feel your legs shake, the way your bare heels kick listlessly against his back as he sucks and licks you through the peak of your climax. Your pussy throbs in his mouth and drips down his chin like honey, with a taste so good he doesn’t want to stop.

“God fucking dammit,” you moan, and he keeps going until you bring one foot up to press into his shoulder to push him away. “Kookie, p-please, it’s too much.”

With a final swipe of his tongue, Jungkook pulls back, wiping at his chin with one hand. “You’re sensitive, jagi, I know.”

But there’s a reason you haven’t stopped filming, and it’s one you both know well. It was back when you first started dating, when you could never keep your clothes on around each other and barely left his room, that Jungkook learned your body expertly enough to figure it out: after you come once, your pussy gets so sensitive that he can easily work you up to a second orgasm, even from just the curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

He hopes no one else will ever get the chance to know you like this. 

You barely manage to stifle another sob and almost drop the camera when he slips two fingers into your cunt, pressing to the hilt to feel how swollen-tender you are inside. Your walls squeeze so tight around him that his cock twitches in his pants with jealousy.

Sliding one of your legs off his shoulder, he presses your thigh firmly into the couch and groans a little at the way you spread wide for him, glossed folds all flushed and pretty. It gives him a head rush to watch his hand work you open, to see the thick white cream of your arousal paint his fingers each time he pulls back just to thrust in again.

You’re wet enough now that the sound is obscene, a juicy squelch every time he fucks into you, and Jungkook can’t help but smile. He glances up. “You’re dripping on my couch, jagiya.”

You can only whimper in response.

“You want to come again?”

You nod desperately until you manage to find the word. “Please.”

“Anything for you.” Jungkook winks for the camera as he starts to flex his fingers to pet over the ridges of your front wall. You keen as he puts more weight into his strokes, your free hand reaching to cling to him and dig your nails into his bicep. He’s too keyed up to feel it, can’t focus on anything that isn’t your pussy squeezing him like a fucking vice grip, tight and hot and soft inside.

You’re past the point of being able to talk, reduced to breathless moans— “ah, ah, nnh”— because Jungkook knows exactly what to do to take you apart all over again.

This time he makes no move to stop you when your hips buck up. Instead he lets you let go, lets you fuck yourself on his hand, fluttering around his fingers and trembling all over as you start to come.

Jungkook goes a little slack-jawed watching you and momentarily forgets about the video, looking over the camera to see the expression on your face as he works you through your second peak. He loves the way you grip tight to him with your nails and your pussy, like he’s special, like you need him.

Your knees reflexively pull towards each other as your cunt-pulses slow and you finally start to come down, thighs clamping in around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears the whir of the camera shutter retracting and sees you toss it aside on the couch, he finally relents. You open yourself up enough that he can slip his fingers out to suck the excess off.

“What the fuck,” you finally manage as you collapse against the couch cushions, sounding beyond dazed.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk, and gets to his feet. As he watches your head tip back and your eyes flutter closed, he can’t help but wonder if you got what you came for. If this is the last he’ll see of you until god knows when.

Fuck that. He’s not letting you go that easy.

In one swift move Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder— completely naked from the waist down— like it’s nothing at all, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.

“Kookie!” You try to sound mad but the laugh that bubbles up gives it away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Come on,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, impervious to the way your hands claw at his back. “It’s a perfect night for the hot tub.”

“I didn’t bring a fucking bikini,” you sputter, feet kicking softly in the air. “Put me down.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures you as his free hand easily slides the back door open and he takes you over the threshold. “Tae and Jimin won’t be back for a while. It’s just us.”

Tae and Jimin have also already seen you naked… probably dozens of times at this point, if Jungkook had to estimate, but he doesn’t mention that part. Not when he’s trying to get his girl back.

Instead he crosses the yard to set you down on the hot tub deck, your legs dangling over the side, and makes quick work of stripping out of his jeans and boxers, half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. He hopes it might give you some incentive to stay a little longer.

When he turns back to face you, your bottom lip is jutting out in a bratty little pout as your feet swing aimlessly off the deck. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

Jungkook steps forward to close the distance, thumb running down your mouth to pet over your lip. “Put this back in your mouth and take your top off, jagi.” His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours. 

Your bare foot knocks into his shin, but it only hurts a little. “Make me.”

He can’t help but smirk at your attitude. It’s cute. He likes you feisty. “That’s a lot of sass for someone who was just screaming my name.”

You smack a hand against his chest with a play-scowl. “Shut up.”

He sweeps your arms behind your back before you can do it again, easily enclosing both of your wrists in one of his hands. “Why are you always so mean to me, huh?”

“Oh, I’m mean?” You look like you’re going to say more, but he pushes your crop top up with his free hand and watches the way it makes you shiver, your nipples tightening in the cool night air.

“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I’m just trying to love you.”

The same hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. His grip on your wrists doesn’t falter as he pulls off, switching to roll your other nipple under the pad of his thumb.

“You should get these pierced,” he remarks, gaze shifting between your tits as he imagines silver barbells studded through the buds of them. “I’ll get one too. We can go together. Next summer.” His eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften, just barely. It’s enough.

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan, wiggling a little in his grasp. “Until you decide to stick your dick in some strange and fuck everything up again.”

Jungkook sighs. You’re fucking relentless. “I don’t want to talk about that. Can’t it just be us?”

Your reaction isn’t what he expects: he’s surprised to see the fight go out of you, to see how defeated you look as you lean in and press your forehead against his chest. Even your wrists go slack in his hand, and he releases his grip.

“That’s what I’m saying, Kookie,” you murmur. “That’s all I want.”

Jungkook’s fingers sweep under the line of your jaw. “I know.”

He tilts your head up for a kiss, and your hands come to cup his face, as if to pull him closer— to hold him in place so he can’t run away.

It’s the way it always is: he’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not dumb enough to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll love him anyway.

Your thumb strokes over Jungkook’s cheek as he pulls back, and he smiles a little. “Will you please get in the hot tub?”

Jungkook settles into the water first, sighing dramatically loud at the welcome warmth, and you giggle as you peel your top off before following after. When you slip in politely across from him, he grabs you by the ankle with a growl, and you don’t fight as he pulls you close again.

His hands guide your thighs apart to straddle him, so your knees rest on either side of the ledge he’s seated on. Between the heat of the water and your body on top of him, he’s dizzyingly hard in seconds.

The two of you make out like teenagers, more tongue than anything else, doing your best to hump and grind against each other despite the water slightly inhibiting your motions. Jungkook can’t stop touching your tits, obsessed with the weight of them in his hands. His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples to make you whine into his open mouth again and again, and his cock twitches in response every time.

“K-Kookie,” you finally manage to groan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, all tongue and teeth, to the slope of your neck. “Need it, please. Your cock.”

His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before pulling back to answer. “You’ll get it, jagi. Wanna try something first.”

You whine a little and he gives a teasing pinch to your inner thigh, shifting you off his lap so he can stand up.

“Come here.”

Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist when you get to your feet, and the added weightlessness from the water makes it even easier for him to move you where he wants you. He guides you to spin so your back is flush with his chest, then encourages you to kneel on the ledge again, pushing your legs further apart.

“Can you stay like this for me?” He murmurs in your ear. You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, reflecting back the blue glow of the mood lights filtered through the water, and you nod.

As he ducks down to kiss you, Jungkook’s hand fumbles blindly against the edge of the tub until he finds the button he’s looking for. When he presses it once, the jets roar to life, including the one positioned right between your spread thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, and Jungkook wraps his arms tight around you to keep you in place, letting you collapse back into him as the jet pulses onto your pussy. “Oh my god, oh fuck, Kookie.”

“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod, hips circling against the stream of water, stimulated past the point of coherency. Your eyes practically roll back in your head. “Yeah, you look good like this.”

Jungkook can’t help himself now— his cock aches from lack of attention, and he starts to grind into you from behind, rutting himself against the small of your back, the curve of your ass. His hands grab at the soft skin of your thighs for leverage, and he can feel the way you’re shaking, already close, your breathing going ragged.

“K-Kookie—” you whimper. “I’m— fuck, g-gonna—”

“Want you to come for me,” he groans, tongue darting out to trace the shell of your ear. “Come for me like this so I can fuck another one out of you.”

Your arms scramble back behind you for something to keep you grounded, nails scratching and digging into Jungkook’s shoulders as your orgasm starts to crest.

He keeps rocking his hips into you, which only serves to move you closer to the jet and make the pressure that much stronger. You’re moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Jungkook has to grip your hips to keep them still as you come fast and hard, shaking apart in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Jungkook talks you through it, petting broad strokes down your thighs that make you jolt under his touch. “How was that, jagiya?”

“Fuuuuuck.” Your answer is a soft whine, and he can feel the aftershocks still rolling through your body. You shift to pull your thighs together, shivering all-over, and Jungkook releases his grip on them, hands moving up to squeeze at your tits while you recover. He can feel the way your heart is racing beneath his palm.

Your eyes slowly blink open, heavy-lidded, and you start to untangle your arms from around Jungkook’s shoulders. His back stings a little— he’s sure he’ll have pretty pink scratch marks to remember you by.

He presses a kiss to your temple, chaste in spite of how fucking hard and horny he is. “Love you. Stand up for me?”

Your legs are still shaking, so Jungkook helps haul you to your feet. Taehyung is always telling him he shouldn’t actually be penetrating girls in the water, something about vaginal health, so he has you bend at the waist to lean over the edge of the hot tub. The arch in your back when you press your ass up towards him makes his cock start to leak against his stomach.

Your head lolls forward to drop down on your forearms, and he laughs a little at how fucked out you already are as he gives your ass a firm slap. “Stay just like that. Face down ass up.”

You wait patiently as he climbs out of the water to search the deck. It only takes a few seconds for him to spot what he’s looking for: the bottle of lube Jimin’s always leaving out “just in case”. Jungkook makes a mental note to buy him a thank-you shot.

“God damn,” he murmurs appreciatively when he returns to you, rubbing three fingers slicked in thick silicone lube along your puffed-up slit before pushing them into the velvet heat of your pussy. “Wanna come in you so bad.”

“Please, Kookie,” you whimper.

Jungkook withdraws his hand to squirt more lube into his palm and fist it over his length, hissing a little at the sensation and the squelching noise his hand makes when he fucks into it. Tossing the bottle over the edge, his hands come to frame your hips, and he can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds. “Fuck.”

You push your hips back on him, all wrecked and needy, your voice wrung-out. “Fuck me, Kookie, please— wanna take your cock, wanna feel it.”

It’s so hot when you beg for him. With another soft noise, Jungkook lines himself up to your entrance and gives you what you need: the whole of his thick cock sliding into your grip-tight pussy, slow for the delicious stretch of it, so you can feel every inch until he’s pressed in to the hilt.

It feels the way it always does. You were made to fit together.

You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls already fluttering, split open and filled up and so sensitive. Jungkook leans forward, hands bracing the edge of the tub on either side of you, until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.

“Oh shit, right there, Kookie,” you gasp, like he doesn’t already know.

Jungkook grunts, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over, until your legs threaten to give out. 

Your pussy feels so good, the little moans you’re making in time with his motions are so pretty, it’s like he can’t get enough of you. He brings a hand up to run over every inch of your skin he can reach, all of it smooth and gorgeous under his fingertips— he really can’t stop touching you. 

Maybe those bumps he did back at the bar were molly, he thinks absentmindedly.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans as he strokes a little harder, hips rolling fluidly. “So fucking beautiful.”

“F-fuck, Kookie,” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts, and you let out a choked moan when he starts to pound more firmly in response. “Ah, fuck— don’t fucking stop, oh god—”

Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper. Being squeezed so close by your walls is nearly overwhelming, your pussy all hot and wet inside, it’s like he can barely fit. “God, you’re so fucking tight, jagi.”

“F-feels so guh— good, nnh,” you can hardly get the words out, and Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake.

He can’t stop himself now, not when it’s this good. “Missed you so much, jagiya. Wanna marry you, wanna put a baby in you.” His cock twitches hard, enough that you whimper a little, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Come with me, jagi,” he grunts. “I want to feel you come again.”

“C-can’t,” you gasp, but he knows you can, can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close.

The clapping of skin on skin echoes out as Jungkook fucks deliberately into your g-spot, no longer holding back, and you cling to the edge of the tub for dear life as your muscles start to contract. “Oh fuck, Kookie, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—”

With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm hits you. Jungkook is helpless to the way your pussy pulses around him, like it was made to milk his cock. He tips his head back with a throaty groan as he comes with you, comes for what feels like an eternity, thick white ropes spilling into your cunt with every dick-twitch of his orgasm.

“Oh my god,” he groans, working the last of it out with a few shallow strokes, his breathing harsh and ragged. “So fucking good.”

You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.

Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. Deciding not to bother with the mess running down your thighs, he takes a second to catch his breath, then climbs over the edge of the hot tub, wiping absentmindedly at the beads of sweat dotting his temples.

You’re clearly too fucked out to walk now, so he scoops you up to carry you across the deck and back inside through the open sliding door, bridal-style this time, cradled in his arms. He smiles at the way you’re still trembling a little, your face now buried in his chest.

He deposits you onto the couch, then stretches out next to you to prop up on one arm, admiring how your hair fans out beneath you as you curl into him with a small sigh.

It takes you a while to come to, lashes fluttering prettily over your cheeks, and when your eyes finally blink open, you sit up rather abruptly.

Jungkook brings a hand to your low back to rub gentle circles. “Hi, jagi.”

There’s a look on your face, like you’ve just realized where you are.

“Fuck, I should go,” you murmur, looking around until your gaze lands on your purse. You lean over to retrieve it and dig through the contents until you finally find your phone and slide it open. “My roommate is gonna figure it out if I don’t come back, and she’ll fucking kill me.”

“Stay with me,” Jungkook says softly.

“No, Jungkook,” you snap, and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that he’s lost you for the night. “I shouldn’t have even fucking come here.”

He should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, or the smirk that pulls up the corner of his mouth. “But you did come. Four times, if my memory is correct.”

“Fuck off,” you grunt, already up and starting to pull on your clothes that are scattered across the floor of the living room. You briefly disappear outside to retrieve your shirt.

“Does this mean we’re not back together?” Jungkook tries when you slip in the door again.

You shoot him a look he’s all-too-familiar with. “Not at all.”

“Will you at least unblock me on Facebook?” He asks sweetly, and it’s a joke, but he can see from the way you roll your eyes that you’re clearly too pissed off to have any more fun tonight.

“Facebook?! That’s seriously what you care about right now?! You are so fucking shallow, Jungkook.” You grab your purse in a huff and storm off down the hallway.

Jungkook knows he should get up and fight for you, at the very least stop being horizontal on the couch— but honestly, he’s fucking tired. That’s the thing about your hot and cold shit: he knows you’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort right now or not. And it’s so much easier not to.

So he says nothing, hands folded behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, and waits until he finally hears the front door slam behind you.

Whatever, he thinks to himself with a heavy exhale.

After a minute, he gets up and heads into the bathroom, turning the shower on extra-hot. It’s still early. He can rinse off, get dressed, go see what Tae and Jimin are up to. Maybe he can jump on a grenade for one of them and take his mind off things for a bit.

He unlocks his iPod, docked on the speaker he keeps on the bathroom shelf— can’t shower without a good playlist— and spins the wheel until he gets to one of his favorites, simply titled fuck bitches. The opening 808s of Kanye West kick on like a heartbeat as Jungkook steps under the spray of the shower-head.

[writtendaydreamm]

One Rule

Daniel had one rule he followed on race weekends. No sex.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut

It was a Grand Prix weekend and the first one y/n’s been able to attend all season. While Daniel was excited to have his girlfriend cheering him on during qualifying today, he wasn’t too thrilled about what a tease she’s been as of late. She was proving to be quite the distraction. Not exactly what he needed leading up to a big race.

It was a bit out of character for y/n. She normally tried to be as unassuming as possible during race weekends. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize Daniel’s focus or performance. She mostly stayed out of sight and out of mind allowing him to get into the right headspace. She understood being a driver’s girlfriend required sacrifice. Fortunately for her, Daniel never asked for much. He really only had one rule during race weekends. No sex.

Now, if you know Daniel, you know he’s not really a follow-the-rules type of guy. He was more of a rule-breaker if anything. So for him to even have a no-sex rule at all, meant it was something he took seriously.

This all started very early on in his career after a horrible performance during a race he happened to have sex prior to. Needless to say, that race was one of the worst he’s ever had. Whether that incident was a fluke or if the sex really did affect his performance, only God knows. Either way, since then Daniel made it a rule to never have sex before driving. Whether that be for free practice, qualifying, or the actual race.

In accordance with his no-sex rule, the couple kept it PG these past few days sharing nothing more than some chaste kisses. It was driving Y/n up the wall. This rule never really bothered her before. But it had been so long since she and Daniel got to spend any real time together. It’s probably been around a month since they last saw each other in person. Every part of her missed him. His presence. His touch.

If she weren’t so desperate for him, she’d be impressed by his willpower. If the roles were reversed she would’ve given in by now. Y/n was not making it easy for him at all. Teasing him every chance she got. But to no avail. Dan still hasn’t budged

Y/n was just about ready to accept defeat until last night when Daniel’s resolve started to show signs of wavering. In a last-ditch effort to try and turn Daniel on enough so he’d finally fuck her, y/n wore nothing more one of than his t-shirts to bed. She was hoping for the best, but not expecting much. Daniel was already settled under the covers, headphones on, and ready for bed by the time she got there. But around a few minutes after she joined him, he got up to take a shower. Odd, since he had already taken one just before bed. Then after hearing a faint but familiar grunt coming form the bathroom, it clicked. He was taking a cold shower to get rid of his boner.

So when Y/n got dressed this morning, she didn’t choose the skimpy summer outfit she was wearing by chance. It was a calculated decision. One that would hopefully break whatever was left of Daniel’s resolve so he’ll finally toss that no-sex rule out the window.

When y/n asked him to tie her top from behind, Daniel nearly lost it right then. All he wanted to do was pepper kisses all along her neck and shoulder. How he wished he could just turn her around and pepper kisses along her breasts that were supported by nothing more than this flimsy top. But remembering his rule, he took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts aside.

Today was qualifying and Daniel was determined to earn a starting position within the top 5. He needed to be laser-focused on driving his race car at its limit today. Getting everything he can out of it. He had half a mind to lock y/n up in his car for the rest of the day the way she was acting right now. She was being a total tease the entire drive from their hotel to the circuit. Doing all the things she knew would turn him on. Like playing with his curls. Lightly massaging that spot on the nape of his neck. Running her hands over his thighs. Hiking her already short skirt up even higher.

Daniel knew exactly what she was doing. It’s not like she was being shy or discreet at all. And as much as he wanted to give her what she wanted, to rip the delicate fabric off her and take her in the back seat of his McLaren right then and there, he couldn’t shake the thought of his no-sex rule from his mind.

Swallowing hard, Daniel used every last bit of his self-control to resist her. He was so tense, his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. Relief washed over him seeing the circuit was only a few minutes away now. He wasn’t sure how long his will would’ve lasted.

When Daniel finally parked the car, there was no denying the very visible tent that had formed in his jeans.

“Y/n,” Daniel groaned irritatedly. There were going to be cameras everywhere. There was no way he could walk out of his car like this.

She quickly feigned innocence. “What?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You know what. I can’t go out on the paddock like this right now.”

“Well all you have to do is let me help you take care of that then,” y/n pouted.

“Y/n, c’mon now. You know we can’t,” Daniel reminded her. His voice lacked any actual conviction though. “I just need a second to relax.”

Daniel closed his eyes, started to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. It seemed to work as the tightness in his jeans started to let up.

That feeling didn’t last long though as y/n used this moment to feel him up through his jeans. Daniel’s eyes shot open as he inhaled sharply at the feeling. His hand gripped her wrist tightly but made no effort to remove her hand.

Y/n’s pussy throbbed at the feeling of how hard Daniel was for her and at how miserably he was failing to contain himself.

“The last time I fucked a girlfriend before a race I had the worst race of my life y/n,” Daniel warned her weakly.

“Well obviously, your ex wasn’t a good enough fuck,” y/n countered, her hand squeezing him through his jeans just a little. “If you won’t fuck me then at let me at least suck you off baby. How about that?”

Daniel couldn’t think straight. His mind wanted one thing, and his dick wanted something else. Her suggestion seemed like a good idea. It would be like a loophole. It wasn’t technically the same kind of sex that his rule referred to. A blowjob should be fine, right?

He took a glance around the parking lot to make sure no one was there. His McLaren was tinted pretty dark, but not dark enough to conceal them completely. A little part of him hoped someone would be outside so he had a reason to resist her. But a much larger part of him was incredibly eager to feel y/n’s lips around him.

“Fuck it,” Daniel grunted under his breath, throwing caution to the wind. He released his tight grip on her wrist and instantly took her lips in his for a hungry kiss.

Y/n smiled against his lips as she started palming him through his jeans. She pulled away, shifting in her seat to better face him. Her hands eagerly began undoing his belt and jeans.

Once she got them undone and Dan helped her pull them down mid-thigh, his dick sprang up. Wasting no time, y/n began pumping him with her hands.

Dan threw his head back in pleasure. He ran a hand through her hair, fingers lightly raking her scalp. As good as this felt right now, he knew how much better her lips would feel around him. His hand on her head began pushing her face towards his dick.

Y/n scoffed at his impatience but she figured she’d teased the poor guy long enough. Rather than fighting his hand, she allowed him to guide her head closer and closer to his dick. When she got close enough, y/n dribbled a little spit onto it.

“Fucking hell, y/n,” Daniel moaned. He may have controlled his urges for her all weekend, but it wasn’t easy. He was ready to let go and reach m the release she was about to bring him to.

When y/n finally wrapped her lips around him, he bit his lip hard to hold in another moan daring to slip out. She focused on his tip, swirling her tongue around it. Her hands pumping the rest of his dick her lips had yet to run across.

When she felt satisfied with the attention had given the tip of his dick, she released him from her mouth with a pop. The cool air from the AC still running was a stark contrast to her warm, wet mouth.

Her tongue licked a stripe from the very base of his dick, up to the tip before taking him in her mouth again. She did this a couple more times before finally sinking her mouth down on as much of his dick as she could handle. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail so as to keep it out of her way and to give him a better view.

Daniel could no longer hold in his moans when he felt her start hollowing out her cheeks adding extra suction as she bobbed her head.

“It feels so fucking good, baby.”

Y/n began moving her head up and down faster at the praise.

“Yeah baby, just like that. Just like that,” Daniel instructed her, his voice hoarse and husky. Both hands were now on her head helping to guide her up and down at the exact pace he needed. He was getting close.

Y/n took her mouth off him, needing some air. Daniel let out a low groan as he saw what a wreck she looked like. Her eyes were tearing, lipstick smudged, saliva all around her mouth. What a fucking sight. With his hand still on the back of her head, he brought her face to his for a wet, sloppy kiss. Y/n kept pumping his dick with her hand as their tongues battled for dominance.

Daniel pulled away first, missing the feeling of her lips on his dick. Y/n went right back to sucking on him bringing him closer to his peak.

With both hands holding her head steady, he started moving his hips up into her mouth. Daniel couldn’t control himself anymore. It started off slow and steady. But quickly, it grew rough and fast. Y/n gagged a few times as he hit the back of her throat. Her hands were on his thighs bracing herself as he chased his orgasm.

“I’m close y/n, I’m so close,” Daniel groaned.

His hips were unrelenting as he fucked her face. The rhythm he had going turned erratic. After a couple of firm thrusts, he reached his orgasm coming in her mouth. A satisfied moan left his lips as his hands let go of her head. Y/n tried to swallow as much of his load as she could before bobbing her head up and down his dick a few more times for good measure.

“That felt so fucking good y/n,” Daniel said still trying to catch his breath. He stroked her hair lovingly, trying to tame the mess he created.

Y/n just pecked him on the lips before plopping back into the passenger's seat. After fixing themselves up, the couple walked hand in hand towards the paddock. They shared one last kiss before Daniel went off to prepare and suit up for qualifying.

Out there on the track, he was surprisingly the most relaxed he’s been in a long time. He was in tune with his car and making better decisions on the fly. His lap times decreasing with every lap he finished. At the end of the last round of qualifying, Daniel managed to secure the third starting position for tomorrow. The best starting position he’s had with McLaren so far.

Maybe that no-sex rule was doing more harm than good.

When he entered his McLaren motorhome he was immediately greeted with a big hug from Y/n. “You did so amazing out there Danny.”

“Reckon it had a little something to do with that mouth of yours aye,” Daniel said cheekily, running his hand along her back.

Y/n slapped his chest playfully. “Well, I mean at least now you know that stupid rule of yours was just bull shit.”

“Nah I’m not so sure,” Daniel started, before shooting her a wink. “I think we need to test it out again tomorrow before my race. See how well I perform then.”

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

How about a major nsfw scene where they are walking around the castle, just talking, but end up in the dungeon, if ya know what I mean ;)

@krispytidalwavesheep This is the fic I was talking about from your ask!

Warning: NSFW

“...And you’ve contacted the florist? Will the flower arrangements be arriving by tomorrow?”

“Yes, my Lady,” you say, pushing your glasses back over your nose as you check over your checklist for the hundredth time that day. You and Lady Dimitrescu had been going over the preparations for the ball tomorrow all morning. She had followed you around as you walked the length of the Castle, making sure everything was perfect for the occasion. The parquet floor has been swept to perfection, the windows polished, the banisters a riot of flowers.

As you are walking, you turn a corner and suddenly find yourself in an unfamiliar corridor. You turn to Lady Dimitrescu, a question forming on your lips. Suddenly, you hear a guttural growl, and find one of the Moroaicǎ bearing down on you with a Claymore. A scream rips from your throat as you cover your eyes, bracing for impact. It doesn’t come; instead, you hear the slash of metal slicing flesh. You open your eyes and find Alcina standing before you with her claws extended. The Moroaicǎ’s head rolls forgotten on the floor.

Alcina immediately runs over to you, cradling your face in between her large hands, running her thumbs along your cheekbones. “Darling, did it touch you? Are you hurt?” Concern is evident in her golden eyes.

“I’m fine, my Lady,” you say, feeling your face go scarlet at Alcina’s ministrations. “Really.”

The truth was the two of you had gotten rather close over the past couple weeks after the manthings’ attack on Castle Dimitrescu. You had even shared a couple nights together. When you saw Alcina’s muscles ripple as she severed the Moroaicǎ’s head from its body, you remembered what it was like having those arms wrapped around you and you felt your core heaten with desire.

Alcina smiles and kisses the back of your hand. “Come along, pet,” she says, taking your hand in hers. “Surely there won’t be any preparations needed for the dungeon?”

She turns to go, but you suddenly find yourself rooted to the spot. She looks at you in confusion.

“My, Lady,” you say slowly. “I know that we’ve been intimate…”

Alcina chuckles. “Whatever made you think of that, dear?”

You blush further but press on. “When you make love to me, my Lady,” you continue. “You’re always so gentle with me. As if I’m a fine piece of china and you fear I might break.”

Alcina puts her hand under your chin and tilts your face up to meet hers. “And do you not like the way I touch you, ingeras?” Her tone is mild, but her aureate eyes are alert and you find yourself unable to break away from her intense gaze.

“No, my Lady,” you whisper softly, holding her hand in place to your cheek. “I rather enjoy it. But there are times when I wish you would be...rougher with me.”

Alcina’s eyes are half lidded with desire. “And is now one of those times, pet?”

You suddenly find it difficult to breathe as you whisper, “Yes.”

She moves in suddenly to kiss you but you quickly sidestep out of her reach. She chuckles low in her throat. “Feeling a bit of a tease tonight, are we?”

You dance your way back to her, taking her hand in yours and leading her to a set of manacles chained to the wall. “Now just what are you planning?” she wonders, an amused smile playing at her carmine lips.

Taking the manacles in your hands, you clasp them over your Lady’s wrists. Then you pull the chain running through them until her back is flush against the wall, her wrists chained above her head. You turn your back to her but feel her eyes upon you as you turn around in the middle of the room.

Without once breaking eye contact with Alcina, you slide your hand up your skirt and slip two fingers into your core. You know your own touch cannot possibly compare to your Lady’s but it is so worth it to see Alcina’s mouth fall open in shock, her golden eyes burning with jealousy that she is not the one touching you, that it is not her fingers buried in your core.

As you increase the pace of your thrusting, you spot the Moroaicǎ’s discarded Claymore and get an idea. You take it and slash open the front of your dress. You rest the tip of the sword over your collarbone and press in slowly until blood begins to pour down your chest, settling between the valley of your breasts.

Alcina is snarling and railing against her bonds. Her teeth are bared, fangs glinting in the torchlight as she struggles to break free. You feel your climax building as she growls in frustration, spittle flying off her lips.

You hear the sound of metal screeching as Alcina finally breaks free of the manacles with a snap. Within seconds, she has crossed the distance between the two of you. With another slash of her claws, she rips the rest of your clothes off, like they were so much tissue paper. Holding you flush to her body, she runs her tongue over your collarbone, greedily lapping up any leftover blood.

Alcina pins you to the wall, slapping your hand away before sliding her fingers into your already dripping cunt. She does not maintain the pace she usually uses. Her movements are faster, more hurried this time. You rock your hips in time to each thrust, but soon find it difficult to keep up.

The two of you have made love plenty of times before this, but this is one of the few times you’re actually getting fucked.

She leans down and intermittently darts her wicked tongue into your core, stroking your inner walls, alternating her thrusting between her fingers and her tongue. Her nails bite into the curve of your hips as she holds you in place. You wrap your legs around her waist, leaning your head against the wall as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Is this what you had in mind, slut?” she hisses, nipping the shell of your ear with the tip of her fangs. “I hope you’re prepared for what comes next.” She gives you a manic grin as she slips another one of her fingers into your core.

You choke out a gasp as the extra digit is added and Alcina gives you a satisfied smirk. “This is what our stretching sessions have been about, dear,” she cooes. “Come now, I know you can take it.”

You’re riding three of her fingers now and she is continuing her thrusting at a relentless pace. The stone wall against your back feels cold and clammy even as you feel yourself breaking out into a sweat due to Alcina’s ministrations.

When you finally orgasm, your voice echoes along the dungeon walls as you scream out Alcina’s name. Sinking along the wall, you find yourself going limp in Alcina’s arms. You feel Alcina’s tongue rasp along your thighs as she laps up your juices. “How very sweet you are, draga mea,” she purrs. She looks up at you and you see her ruby lips are dotted with flecks of white. Holding out her hand imperiously, she proffers her fingers slick with your orgasm. “You should really sample yourself, dear.”

You take her hand in yours and gently wrap your mouth around each digit in turn, rolling your tongue around each finger, suckling at your leftover juices. You feel her golden eyes upon you as you remove your mouth from her last finger, your lips making a firm popping sound.

Alcina can see that you are happy but exhausted. She runs her dry hand through your hair, now snarled and full of tangles. “Looks like I’ve tired you out, my dear,” she says, kissing your forehead. “We should get you cleaned up. How does a bath sound?”

You smile at her and give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “That does sound lovely. Thank you.”

Alcina carries you through the castle to the Hall of Ablutions and if anyone is curious as to why the Countess is carrying you naked and bloody, they at least make sure not to ask questions. When you finally arrive at the bathroom, Alcina orders the bathroom attendant to draw you a bath and waves her off after the tub is full.

You step in and sigh as the hot water makes contact with your sweaty and clammy body. You lean your head back against the porcelain and enjoy the warmth of the water seeping into your bones.

“Is there room for one more, draga mea?” Alcina teases. You look up and see that Alcina has already discarded her clothes on the floor. You smile and scoot up a little bit to make room for her. Alcina settles herself behind you and you sit on her lap as she begins tenderly massaging your scalp with soap, getting rid of any leftover blood that may have made its way to your hair.

“Do you know why I am usually so gentle with you?” she whispers.

You turn back to look at her. “You tell me,” you return, smiling mischievously.

But Alcina is serious. She turns your face to her, rubbing a thumb along your jawline. “It is because you are precious to me. When I see that someone so kind and so pure as you would want to be with someone like me. A monster like me-”

“Don’t say that,” you say fiercely, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Don’t even think it.”

“Even so,” she continues and you are shocked to see her eyes are starting to pool with tears. “The fact that you know what I am, what I am capable of, and yet you still choose to be with me means more than any words I could hope to express. You are precious to me, my dearest darling. You are a treasure. And I love you.”

You can hardly breathe. Technically this is the second time she has told you that she has loved you. But you are ready for it this time. You kiss her hard, weaving your fingers through her dark locks. You pull away and look into her fathomless golden orbs as you say, “And I love you too, Alcina.”

“Well,” she says, chuckling low in her throat. “After all the the times we’ve spent with each other, it's about time you called me by my true name.” You feel another chuckle ripple through her body as she moves to kiss you again.