#Who shoves the other in the pool then jumps in to save them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ajgrey9647 · 3 months

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"Suck on it." + Boom! Comics; GGPR universe or Coinless Universe + Billy/Skull ^^

In the Moment/It's All That Matters

That night as they sat at the counter in Billy’s kitchen, devouring steaming bowls of Hamburger Helper and hotdogs, followed by shy, soft kisses, Skull considered one of the best of his life. To know that the blonde genius returned his affections made his heart feel as if he were soaring. He thought he must be dreaming that he’d tasted the Blue Ranger’s soft lips.

He kept his promise about keeping the Rangers’ identities a secret, not even letting his best friend, Bulk, know what he’d seen. Nor did Billy make the others aware that Skull had seen them morph. All that the scrawny teen could do was cheer quietly from the sidelines, though his stomach clenched with worry whenever he watched the deadly battles on television screens.

Seeing Tommy strutting down the halls at school made him bristle. Knowing that the viper was slithering about so close and being unable to do anything about it made Skull feel nauseous. He was right that Oliver, that fucking dick, was dangerous. More than once Tommy caught Eugene glaring at him angrily and he’d smile brightly before flipping him the finger.

That dreary, rainy Saturday afternoon, Skull lounged on his lumpy mattress, idly flipping through his new copy of a Spiderman comic, gifted from Bulk, when he heard a sudden series of blows hammering smartly against his bedroom door. He jumped causing the brightly colored pages to flutter to the floor.

“Hey butthead!” Stan screamed from the opposite side. “Your little boyfriend’s here to see you!”

Butterflies swirled in his guts as he scrambled to his feet, excited to be seeing Billy unexpectedly even here in this hell pit. Straightening his clothes and running a hand through his disheveled dark hair, Skull struggled to fight the goofy grin threatening to stretch across his face.

As soon as the door swung to, the problem of a cheesy smile was no longer his biggest issue.

“Hey there, buckaroo,” Tommy cooed, all sunshine and rainbows except his eyes which were bottomless black pools.

‘He really IS a demon,’ the punk’s mind realized despite the eruption of fear and panic blasting away logical thought.

“You two don’t be making out now,” Stan chirped before bounding back down the stairs to the living room where his buddies were plotting their newest escapade.

As soon as the older boy was gone, Tommy bulldozed his way into Skull’s bedroom, shoving him back until he tripped, landing roughly on the worn carpet in an untidy heap.

“Why are you here?” Eugene squeaked as he stared up at the menacing, psychotic teen who was pointedly swinging his door shut.

The patrician lips curled in an icy smirk when he heard the latch click ominously.

“You tell me, you chicken-looking motherfucker… Because I think you know.”

Skull inched away on his bottom under the Green Ranger’s contemptuous glare.

“I think you’re giving me too much credit, you fucking dick!” Skull spat, the words tumbling out to his bewildered horror.

Tommy’s head tilted as he considered the smaller, weaker boy scooting across the rug like a dog dragging worms out of its ass. His feline grin was full of sharp, white teeth and the black eyes flashed an emerald fire.

“Now, now, which one of us is running around pushing people off ledges, Eugeeennneee…” he hissed. “You can stop playing dumb. I know you know about me. And the other technicolor bitches.”

Somehow Skull managed to find his feet, not that it would do him any good. He couldn’t fight, not really, not skilled in any martial arts like the Rangers or this raging asshat. Dumb luck was the only thing that seemed to step in on his behalf and that wasn’t exactly a reliable weapon. His ass knocked into the splintered wooden chest of drawers, blocking further retreat.

“Did it make you feel good, Eugene, feel like a hero? Swooping in to save that little Blue nerd…” Tommy growled, coming ever closer. “Did it finally earn you some ass?”

Skull’s grey eyes were stormy as he stared back defiantly.

“Eat shit, Oliver, you pompous, power hungry, witch humping dumb fuck!” he snarled. “I bet you prance around in that Madonna inspired titty holder like you actually are in charge of anything, you sniveling puppet bitch!”

Tommy’s advance halted, his expression one of stunned fury at the scrawny little punk’s outburst.

“The fuck did you say to me?”

“What? Are you deaf AND stupid?” Eugene nearly yelled. “I had you figured out from the start even if I didn’t know you were a Ranger! You’re a sick fuck and I’ll be glad when Jason trashes your smug ass!”

This made the Green Ranger howl with laughter, his hands clutching his sides like a cartoon style bad guy.

“Is that what you think is going to happen, Skull? Haven’t you seen little Red Riding Hood limping down the school hallways? Or any of the rest of them? I know you saw what I did to Billy, the night you two sucked face…”

Inching his way around the room, Eugene frantically tried to figure out how he was going to escape this monster. Tommy slowly circled like a shark, awaiting an answer, amused at the boy’s glowering stare.

“What I think is going to happen is you getting your ass kicked five ways from Sunday!”

The green-clad teen rolled his eyes.

“So full of empty insults and pathetic wit. I’m going to bring those pitiful little children low, toy with them until they beg me for death, then drag them into the fiery pits of hell. But first I think I owe you for my little impromptu swim, don’t you, Eugene?”

At that moment, his shaky hand brushed a large plastic box perched on his nightstand and he instantly knew what he was going to do.

“Alright, Mean Green, come on! Take me out!” Skull challenged. “I’m not afraid of you, you nutty trash panda!”

Time seemed to stand still as Tommy took a large step forward, teeth bared and rearing an arm back to punch the smart ass into next week. He didn’t realize that the other boy’s arm was also moving until five seconds past too late. A wave of bright orange smacked him squarely in the face, painfully coating his wide eyes and invading his nostrils and mouth.

As the evil Ranger spat and hissed in fury, a mist of orange kinetic sand issuing forth when he bent forward to dig at his burning eyes, Skull ducked around him and out of the bedroom, sprinting down the stairs in a mad dash towards the living room. Fortunately, Stan was no where to be seen and his good ol’ ma and pa were who the fuck knew where…

Slamming into the front door, he hurled it open and darted out into the chilly rain.

Somehow, Skull had gotten lucky yet again…

However, eventually luck does run out and he was keenly aware of this fact.

The Day of the Great Battle was coming, though no one could know that and in the interim, Angel Grove was trashed along with many other cities across the world. The Rangers were hanging on by a thread, exhausted, demoralized, and knowing that they were most likely looking down the barrel to their own death. But they stubbornly refused to back down and surrender.

No where was safe and the frightened citizens had abandoned their homes, fleeing in terror from the army of monsters that seemed to come in wave after wave, prowling the streets as they gleefully sought weak, pathetic humans. Fires raged well into the night, the smoke permanently choking the air and giving everything the scent of burnt wood and decaying flesh.

This night was no different as Skull carefully crept amongst the shadows toward the park, not the popular one everyone else used, but a smaller one that he and Billy spent hours in as small children. The wooden play structure that served as their ‘ship’ somehow still stood against the dark sky, backlit by the moon.

And waiting inside, a lithe figure crouched.

“You came,” Skull whispered as loudly as he dared, hooking a leg up to climb into the makeshift tower.

“Affirmative,” Billy answered, leaping to his feet, his smooth hands gliding along the sides of Eugene’s face to pull him in for a deep kiss.

The lanky teen was happy to accept the passionate lip lock, relishing the warmth and softness under his lips. He wasn’t sure that he’d see the Blue Ranger again. And after tonight, he just might not, thanks to that demented, evil fucker cavorting up and down the city with his band of merry assholes.

Pulling back from his boyfriend’s lush mouth, but only slightly, he gazed into those amazing blue eyes intently.

“I thought you might be too busy. You mentioned that you guys might have found a way to stop that slimy son of a bitch, Captain Crazy Ass.”

Billy chuckled, always amused with the wide variety of nicknames and adjectives his boyfriend had coined for their deadly nemesis. It made the gravity of the situation a little more bearable.

“We’re harnessing the power of the White Light. They’re being made from the light of goodness and are stronger than any of our Ranger powers, including the Green Dragon,” he answered. “Ninjor, one of our allies, is feeding the energy into a coin that will create a new White Tiger Ranger. It should be ready in a day or two at most.”

“Sweet! I knew you guys would figure it out!” Skull crowed, pulling Billy tightly against him to twirl through the air. “So, who gets the honor of smoking that fucker?”

Steadying himself once he was back on his feet, Billy adjusted his glasses and quickly scanned the shadows for listening ears.

“Jason has the best shot against Tommy compared to the rest of us. He’ll have to take on these new powers and it might take some time to do it safely. We don’t want to risk overloading him by doing it too fast. It’s unknown how much Grid energy a human body can safely handle,” he whispered. “We just need to hold out a little longer.”

Eugene gave a theatrical sigh.

“Thank goodness! I miss the way things used to be, even going to school every day, just don’t tell Bulk I said that!”

Taking the Blue Ranger’s hands in his own, the skinny teen brushed his thumbs tenderly over the scratched and burned skin. Billy had been working nonstop, fighting the Green Goofy, repairing Zords back to back to back and earning painful electrical burns in his hurry, and assisting with this new power coin. It was obvious he was overwhelmed and exhausted.

“You know, in spite of all this fuckery and shocking revelation going on, I can honestly say that one positive thing came through,” Skull’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t know if I’d have ever got up the courage to tell you how I feel. Or to save a Ranger. Well, Rangers, I mean if you count me and Bulky intercepting Oliver before he blitzed Jason.”

He chuckled.

“I’ve learned a lot about myself during all this and it’s changed a lot. So, when this is over, Billy… I want everyone to know what you mean to me. I don’t care what anyone thinks about it. They can go pound sand!”

The blue eyes behind those wire frame glasses were sad and Eugene paused.

“What?”

Billy nestled closer into his boyfriend’s protective embrace.

“We not out of the woods. Not yet. Anything could happen between now and defeating Tommy. My brain can’t help but look at probabilities, Skull, and overall we don’t have the greatest odds until we secure the White Tiger powers.”

He was right. Skull knew it too, though he couldn’t bring himself to go down that line of thinking. Every moment needed to count.

Starting now. If Billy was feeling what he was feeling. There might be no second chances. Oliver was too goddamn nutty and unpredictable.

His hand moved to smooth the soft blonde hair back from the Blue Ranger’s face. Billy felt the charge in the air that sparked between them and his cheeks flushed shyly. All the uncertainty was making things happen at a faster pace than they would have if they could have gone along their natural course. Considering that they had never faced a foe as deadly as Tommy was proving to be, neither wanted to have regret.

Words were not needed once blue eyes met grey ones.

A sudden volley of passionate kisses and swarming hands was not something Skull expected from Billy. If anything, the punk was quite surprised that the Blue Ranger beat him to it. That evil asshole might liken Billy to an innocent, pathetic lamb, but there was a wolf hiding in this sheep’s clothing.

And he loved this unexpected contrast, seeing the meek, quiet boy ignite into full bloom.

Skull was more than happy to oblige Billy’s wild side as he no longer had to worry about frightening his boyfriend or if he was moving too fast. Time was a factor in their lives, looming over them like a Grim Reaper.

Scarred hands tugged at old black leather jacket, yanking it from the other man’s shoulders and down his arms before tossing it absently to the mulch below. They found their way to the hem of the faded orange t-shirt and worked it up and off to join the discarded coat below.

For once, Billy’s rational brain was offline.

Skull’s lips felt swollen from the deep, desperate kisses, the skin was his jaw to ear peppered with nips and licks before descending his throat in long sweeps.

“Fuck!” he couldn’t help but hiss, tilting his head back to give more access.

Where was this coming from? Billy had been holding back his human instincts for years, whether due to his shyness or the chaotic lifestyle of ‘Rangering’, and it begged for release. NOW.

Pulling Eugene’s face back down, those piercing eyes flashed with Grid energy, the Blue seeing the hints of Orange flashing in and out of existence, like a ghostly aura. Soul recognized soul, their places long cemented by forces beyond their control in the great vastness that comprised the mysterious, almost sentient Grid.

Fate or destiny or whatever you wanted to call it was not alone in making the decisions that shaped this world. The Grid was her chess partner in this friendly game.

Perhaps that is why it was so easy for the two new lovers to come together this way.

Breathlessly, Skull panted into Billy’s open mouth.

“Tell me what you want, Blue… I want to make you feel good, you deserve to feel so good…”

Without realizing what was going to tumble from his lips, the blissed out Ranger hissed painfully.

“Suck on it…”

He was too far gone to feel the embarrassment that he normally would have at uttering such crass and vulgar words, for desiring something so…so… primal.

But his boyfriend was more than eager to obey his strained wish, already sinking to his knees as he unzipped the pants confining an already engorged cock. His slim fingers slipped inside the waistband of the underwear and smoothly slid them down the smooth, muscular thighs.

Billy stared at the top of his dark hair as he moved and the moment his head passed the salivating lips, all thought was gone. He was fully flush with hormones and need and the way he needed this intimate moment with the man he loved.

Because in his heart of hearts, the Blue Ranger felt something ominous was on the horizon. Though no logic dictated this to be so, the Triceratops, the Blue energy felt the encroaching Green with its obsessive and monstrous force of will…

A more evil energy loomed, one unfamiliar but no less real…

Standing in the shadow’s a mere stone’s throw away, Tommy stood, watching the lovers. Of course, he knew the Rangers’ comings and goings. He even knew where they laid their heads at night. No reason to broadcast his knowledge because it wouldn’t matter in the end.

But this clandestine tryst revealed something he DIDN’T know.

‘Interesting… A new power for Little Red Riding Hood?’

He grinned in the darkness.

“We’ll see about that… I have a feeling things are going to go out of control…”

#boom! comics power rangers #world of the coinless billy cranston #world of the coinless eugene skullovitch #billy cranston x eugene skull skullovitch #skull x billy #before the fall #prompt asks #sorry so late

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emetoniche · 6 months

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Bahamas Chronicles: Part Two

Okie dokie folks, finally got that second installment for y’all. In all honesty, I’m probably the most proud of this one than any others so far. Just the depth and emotion of this one compared to the others is so much more! That’s part of why it took me so long to write: I couldn’t keep it short. That being said, this is a very long one, so be prepared!

tw: vomiting, severe illness, anxiety, brief mentions of abuse

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Callum couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so good. All of his friends around him on a perfect vacation, just hanging out by the poolside of their resort. Not to mention Eddie, whose head was resting on Callum’s lap, snoring softly. Callum brushed a hand through his boyfriend’s curly hair, a smile forming on his lips. He could stay right here like this for the rest of his life and he would be happy.

A screech from the other side of the pool woke Eddie, who jumped a bit pushing himself up to a sitting position. “What the fuck was that,” he groaned sleepily, rubbing at his face with one hand.

“Justin threw Roan into the pool,” Callum answered with a laugh. He could still see the couple wrestling in the water, each trying to dunk the other. To an outsider he figured the scene might look a bit violent, but he knew this was just the way those two were. They suited each other.

“Hm, well can he do it quieter,” Eddie muttered grumpily. He had pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “They’re gonna wake the dead screaming like that.”

Callum shot the other boy a glance, a playful smirk on his face. “Somebody woke up cranky, huh?”

Eddie glared at him, his usual permanently cheerful expression missing. “Whatever, I was just comfy. And hungry. Anything to eat around here?”

The flash of concern Callum felt at Eddie’s angry mood was replaced by his excitement to show a new food to his boyfriend. “Yeah! The waiter brought over these awesome dragonfruit tarts, and I saved one for you. There’s also a mango-peach smoothie if you want it.”

Eddie looked skeptical for a moment, then shrugged, forcing himself to his feet. “Yeah, that’ll do I guess. Where did you leave them?”

He headed in the direction Callum was pointing without another word, his steps heavy. Must just be hangry, Callum thought, watching him walk away. That happened on occasion to Eddie; his mood was fueled by whether or not he had eaten anything in the past half hour or not, or so it seemed to Callum sometimes.

A nudge at his foot brought his attention back to the pool, where Ari was floating, staring up at him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just saying hi,” Ari responded with a sweet smile. “You looked a bit put out when Eddie left.”

Callum chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s being a feckin’ eejit anyway, so maybe it’s best if he’s alone for a bit. Get himself something to eat.”

Ari hummed her agreement. “You can come chill with us for a while if you want, if he’s being too big of an ass.”

The shadow appeared over Callum’s shoulder in the moment he was about to decline, and two strong hands braced on his back, shoving him forcefully into the water. Callum let out a small yelp as he fell in, scrambling back to the surface. His aviators nearly fell off in the process of him flailing to grab onto the edge of the pool, but he managed to take them off and toss them onto his towel back away from the edge a bit. Darius stood above him with a mischievous grin on his face, blonde hair dripping onto the concrete.

Callum let out an exasperated huff of laughter, grinning right back at his friend. “Aye, fair play then, I’ll give ya that.”

Darius just shrugged, doing a front flip over Callum’s head into the pool, where he landed with a gargantuan splash, soaking Ari and making her squeal. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Darius’s neck, clinging on like a monkey. He thrashed around a bit, trying to throw her off, but when she held on he stopped and laughed. “I guess you win,” he conceded, shaking his head.

“Yes!” Ari giggled as she splashed backwards off of his back. She turned to look back at Callum. “See? Come hang with us. Eddie’s just being a pain in the ass right now. You don’t need him to have fun.”

Callum wasn’t honestly too fond of the idea of just leaving without telling Eddie, mostly because he didn’t want to start a fight, but in the end he decided that Eddie probably wouldn’t be back for a while. He had time to go swim around with the others for a bit. Besides, with some food in his stomach, Eddie would be in a much better mood.

An hour later, Callum hauled himself up out of the pool, panting and laughing. He was done for now: he had gotten pretty tired from messing around with his friends. Justin and Roan had gone back to their room just a little bit ago, but Ari and Darius were lying in their little cabana, snuggling together on the circular bed/couch.

Callum looked around, but Eddie still wasn’t back. This worried him, but he tried not to let it show as he waved to the peaceful couple. “I’m heading back to my room, see ya,” he called, plastering a smile on his face. Ari waved back, blowing him a kiss. Darius just lifted a hand to wave without even opening his eyes.

As soon as he was out of their line of sight, Callum bolted for the elevator. He was terrified that he had done something wrong and now Eddie was mad at him. Mad enough to just leave without saying anything. Callum had been extremely careful about making Eddie mad since they had started dating. It wasn’t like Eddie would hurt him or something, he knew his boyfriend would never do that. No, it was just because the thought of fighting with the person he loved most in the world made his stomach do flips.

He hated confrontation with anybody, but especially with the people he cared about. It made him feel gross, like his skin was covered in slime or something. And God forbid the other person were to, say, go to bed angry (cough cough Eddie cough cough), Callum was pretty sure he would just curl into a ball and start sobbing.

The second the elevator hit their floor, Callum was off down the hallway, fumbling to get the room key out of his wallet. He was so frantic that it took him a few tries to actually get the key to work, but when he finally did, he pushed the door open so fast he nearly tripped entering the room. “Eddie? Babe, you in here?”

Complete silence greeted him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, tossing his key, wallet, and towel onto the coffee table in the living space. As he did so, he spotted Eddie’s wallet on the entertainment center beside the television. Callum’s hands shook as he reached for the door to the bedroom, turning the door knob impossibly slow. “Eddie, is something wrong? Are you… are you mad at me?” His voice was shaking almost as much as his hands.

Years of fights between his parents had steeled Callum with a steady resolve to never be like them. He was never going to have those big blow-up fights that they did, and he most definitely was never going to leave the bruises his mother tried to cover with makeup, layers of foundation and who knows what else coating her cheeks and eyes. More than anything, Callum was terrified that if he did end up in a fight with Eddie, he would act just like his father. He knew it was stupid to think genetics would affect a thing like that, but the paranoia hung at the back of his mind, a tiny voice whispering in his ear.

When Callum pushed open the door, Eddie wasn’t on the bed nor in the armchair facing the TV, but the bathroom light was on and shining out from the crack under the door. This calmed Callum somewhat, thinking that maybe Eddie just hadn’t heard him with both the bedroom and the bathroom doors shut. He managed to open the bathroom door, after knocking of course, with a bit of a steadier hand. Well, sort of open it. It hit something when it reached the halfway point, but no matter how hard Callum pushed the door wouldn’t open any further, so he slid in between the door and the wall with a wince when the latch dug into his spine.

Once he had gotten in properly, he glanced down to see what was blocking the door, gasped in alarm, and promptly stumbled backwards quick enough that he smacked his head off of the corner of the door. Groaning loudly and holding his head with one hand, Callum sank to his knees beside Eddie, using the other hand to shake him awake.

Eddie snorted softly, reaching a hand up to swat Callum away, but when the disturbance continued, his eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head a bit to look around. Spit had dried on his cheek where it had trailed from his open mouth while he was asleep and a small puddle of drool was on the floor where he had been. “Cal? Wha- whas goin on… what’re you doin…” he mumbled, still not fully awake. “Your still in the pool…”

“Well, clearly not if I’m sitting here, mo cuishle,” Callum murmured with a small smile, slipping in the Irish pet name that Eddie loved so much. It meant “my pulse,” basically meaning “the one who makes my heart beat.” Eddie had always found it both extremely sexy and adorable.

Eddie’s eyes began to slip closed again as his lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah, guess not…”

Callie reached out, positioning himself so he could pull Eddie up against himself, Eddie’s back pressed to his chest. Callus’s legs spread around his boyfriend, like a fence keeping him contained for fear he might run off somewhere. This was a stupid notion Callum realized after a second, but the position was comfortable and so he stayed in it. Eddie’s head rested on his shoulder. With a low moan, Eddie buried his face in Callum’s neck, turning his body so he could curl into the young man easier. “Sorry I lef’ you down there,” he slurred, voice muffled by Callum’s skin. “I didn’t feel good…”

This comment was followed by a low groan as his stomach gave a very audible burble, bubbles trailing up his throat and bursting into the air as a sickly burp. Callum shook his head, rubbing his boyfriend’s back. “No, no, baby it’s okay, I just wish you had said something.”

“You were havin’ fun, I didn’t wanna make you leave,” Eddie responded. His sentence ended with a hiccup that jerked another moan out of him and he raised a fist to his lips.

“Eddie, I wouldn’t have minded at all. I love you, I want to make sure you’re okay. You worried me when you just disappeared.” Callum’s stomach dropped again just from the very memory of thinking that Eddie was pissed at him, but he didn’t want to bring that up right now, not when Eddie was clearly feeling so miserable. “You shouldn’t be wor-”

Callum had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Eddie’s stomach begin to heave under his palms. The only reason he noticed at all was because Eddie gave a guttural retch, causing a river of sick to cascade down his chest and all over the floor. Eddie hardly seemed to notice: his eyes were still half shut. Callum, to his credit, didn’t freak out like he really really wanted to. He took a steadying breath before pushing Eddie forward so he could stand up. His lap was soaked in vomit, chunks hitting the floor with a wet splat as he stood.

“Okay, baby, you have to sit up,” Callum cooed, trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking. He tried to help Eddie stand by sliding his hands under his armpits, but Eddie weighed half again as much as he did so it wasn’t easy. Luckily, Eddie seemed to gain some clarity back, because he forced himself up, using Callum as a crutch.

He lurched forward, practically throwing himself onto the toilet and managing to whack his forehead off the toilet seat in the process. This new, sharp burst of pain sent his stomach roiling again. He gagged harshly. A thin stream of liquid poured from his mouth into the water below.

At this point, Callum was fucking freaking out. He had completely given up trying to stay calm when his boyfriend had rebounded off the toilet lid. Frantically, he dashed back into the bedroom and swiped his phone off the entertainment centre. His fingers trembled violently as he pressed Roan’s contact. She was good with this kind of thing, and her boyfriend was going to medical school, so they were Callum’s first choice. The phone rang four times before she finally picked up, long enough for tears to start streaming down Callum’s cheeks.

“Callum? What’s up?” The voice on the other end sounded gravelly and tired, as though she had just been awakened from a nap. Callum heard a faint “Baby what’s going on?” from Justin in the background.

“Roan? I-I need h-help,” Callum stammered, voice choked by sobs. “Eddie’s r-really sick and I-I don’t know what to d-do.”

“Fuck, okay, we’ll be right there,” Roan said. She sounded fully awake now, Justin still asking her what was going on in the background. The call ended with a beep, and Callum dropped the phone onto the floor. He couldn’t help it: he dissolved into a renewed bought of sobs, curling into the fetal position on the floor. He had never been good at staying calm when the people he cared about were in trouble, even when he was a kid. His parents’ fights would always send him racing to his shared bedroom to hide under his covers and cry.

The struggle between wanting to stay curled like this forever and wanting to go comfort Eddie, who was still making awful retching noises in the bathroom, raged in Callum’s head for a few moments, then finally he managed to push himself to his feet. His own stomach was churning, though not from sympathy. His anxiety reared its head like a great beast, fighting to take control. He somehow shoved it deep down inside himself in time to register a knock on the hotel room door.

When he rushed over and opened it, Roan and Justin immediately shoved their way in, both looking like they had just rolled out of bed into the middle of an apocalypse. Roan’s hair was tangled, her clothes rumpled, but her eyes were wide as she gazed around the room. “Where is he?”

“Um, bathroom,” Callum stammered, still trying to control his tears. He followed the pair to the bathroom, peering over Justin’s shoulder to see Roan crouching beside Eddie who had his cheek resting on the toilet seat, a long string of drool hanging from his lips into the bowl. Roan tore off a few bits of toilet paper, wiped Eddie’s mouth, then flushed the toilet. Callum watched a thick, brownish-yellow slurry go swirling away. “Is he okay?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course not, he barely even knows we’re here,” Roan snapped, taking a thermometer from her pocket and sliding it under Eddie’s tongue. Eddie gagged a bit, but nothing came up and the thermometer stayed in place.

Callum shrank away from the bathroom, going to sit on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His shoulders shook with heavy sobs, though he somehow kept them quiet. He didn’t want to disturb whatever they were doing in the other room. After a few minutes, he felt the bed shift beside him.

“Don’t take it personally, she just gets focused and doesn’t like being distracted,” Justin said quietly. Callum felt a hand on his shoulder. “I may be the future doctor, but honestly, I think he’s in better hands with her. When she gets going, I don’t think the whole of the Pentagon could stop her.”

Callum took a deep sniff, raising his head from his knees to look at Justin. He felt like such a baby, breaking down like that. He could feel his cheeks heating in embarrassment. “Right, I know, sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for, I get it.” Justin nodded his head towards the bathroom. “I’d probably be doing the same thing if that were Roan in there. Though, it wouldn’t be. That girl’s got the immune system of ten men.” He shook his head with a faint smile, then turned back to Callum. “Right, sorry, got a tad distracted there. But yeah, don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

It was at this inopportune moment that Roan emerged holding the thermometer, a grim expression on her face. “He’s got a fever of one oh four point three,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning on the door frame. “At least that explains why he’s basically delirious.”

Callum’s heart beat immediately picked up by ten paces and his stomach lurched. He tried to speak but instead he gagged into his hand, his system revolting against the raging emotions inside him.

“Oh fuck,” Justin muttered, darting forward to grab the trash bin beside the bedside table. He slid it into Callum’s lap, forcing him to put his legs down from their cramped position. Callum wrapped his arms around the bin, breathing hard.

Roan started forward but Callum held out a hand. “No,” he panted, “Go back in with Eddie, I’m fine.” Roan hesitated for a few seconds, then turned and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Callum did his best to calm himself so his stomach would quit acting up, but with all the thoughts spinning through his head, trying to fight them back only made his head spin, which in turn made his nausea spike. He gagged again, spitting into the bin. “Easy there mate, deep breaths now,” Justin said, patting Callum’s back.

Callum took the slowest, deepest breath he could, but it ended with a retch that finally sent his lunch shooting up his throat. It landed in the wastebasket, the visceral sound making Callum gag again. His stomach slammed inward, his shoulders hitching up to his ears. The heat of his stomach contents through the plastic made him want to drop the bin onto the floor, but he forced himself to hold on through another few bouts, until his vomit had filled the little bin nearly halfway.

His stomach was still angry when he stopped heaving, but it had at least decided to let him stop doing his best impression of the Exorcist child. Justin took the bin from him, setting it on the floor a few feet away where the smell wasn’t suffocating them both. “Feeling a bit better now?”

Callus grunted, not quite convinced yet, but he lay back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. “Maybe. I can’t really tell yet.” He could hear Eddie in the bathroom even with the door closed, alternating between loud retches and muffled whiny sounds. “I wanna go back in with him, but I’m scared I’m just gonna fuck things up even worse,” he admitted to Justin, turning his head to look at his friend.

Justin shrugged. “Yeah, maybe you will.” He paused for a second, then added, “Or maybe Eddie will feel ten times better because one of the few people he loves most in the world is in there beside him.”

Callum hadn’t considered it from that perspective. He pushed himself up onto his forearms, watching the bathroom door. “Yeah…” He stood slowly. His anxiety was still there, running laps and screaming like a banshee in his head, but for some reason his stomach had settled considerably. The knob of the door was cold in his fingers as he turned it. Inside, Eddie was leaned up against the bathtub, eyes closed, while Roan wiped up what appeared to be sick off of the toilet seat. She glanced up when Callum came in.

“He’s not throwing up anymore, but I think he somehow managed to give himself a concussion. His pupils are super dilated and he’s having trouble focusing his vision.” She gestured to Eddie’s forehead, where a bruise was forming. “Did he hit his head falling down or something?”

Callum shook his head. “No, he knocked himself off the lid of the toilet. You know, when he was being sick the first time.” Crouching beside his boyfriend, he put a hand on the young man’s forehead. He was certainly burning to the touch.

At the sound of Callum’s voice, Eddie’s eyes opened just a bit. “M’sorry I made you sick…” he muttered, trying to bring a hand up to Callum’s knee. “Heard you pukin’ in there.”

“No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Callum murmured, cupping Eddie’s jaw softly. “I’m fine, I promise.”

The faintest of wan smiles crossed Eddie’s lips, and he made a quiet affirmative sound. His stomach suddenly contracted, a dry heave shaking his body, but he didn’t move: he just let it shake his body before falling limp again.

Callum pressed a kiss onto Eddie’s forehead then turned to Justin, who was hovering in the doorway. “I think you need to call 999, he’s getting pretty damn bad.”

A frown appeared on Roan’s face. “999? What’s th-”

“Call an ambulance,” Justin cut her off. “Callum wants us to call an ambulance. It’s the emergency number back home.”

While Roan darted off to find Callum’s phone, Callum turned back to Eddie, brushing his curly hair out of his eyes. “Bloody hell, I hope they get here soon…”

#I know like nothing about the Irish culture and am seriously regretting making an Irish OC #Sorry if I completely messed up Callums culture #Calling gets a bit of a personality fleshing out in this one #Eddies getting fucked up #Ngl I feel kinda bad for making them both suffer like this XD

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missroserose · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 6: Ransom Video

“Speak.”

Sam resists the urge to give a canine bark into the camera that’s shoving into his face. Resists, too, the temptation to shove it back out of the way; he’s only got one hand free from its bonds behind the chair, and he’ll be better off if he can take them by surprise with both. He compromises by leaning to one side, out of the way of the lens, and glaring up at the person holding it. Well, the body holding it, anyway; a beefy tattooed man of indeterminate Eastern European origin. Probably a bouncer on the way home from his gig at a strip club, turning down a side street on his way home, only to be jumped by—Sam shuts down that line of thought. It’s only going to make the next steps harder.

“I said, speak, Winchester.” The other figure, some skinny little guy with a piercing voice—maybe a promoter for that same club, who knows—stares at him with equally blackened eyes. “You want big brother Dean to come save you, right? Gotta show him that the merchandise is intact. Top to toes. Scalp to bootyhole.” A smile, unpleasant. “All present and accounted for.”

“Intact” is a generous term. Sam can feel the lump on his head where they cold-clocked him, the fresh cut on his temple, useless blood tacky and drying on the side of his face, plus the beginnings of what’s going to be a truly stunning black eye blooming in the socket. He weighs the possibility of gaining information against the satisfaction of staying silent, and opts for the latter.

The talkative one makes a sound of disgust, and walks around the chair. Sam holds tight to the bonds, hopes they still look solid—then grunts and sucks in a breath as the demon grabs hold of his hair and pulls his head back, tight enough to tug on the still-fresh cut, long enough for the bigger demon to get a shot with the camcorder. “Good enough,” he comments, before tossing Sam’s head forward carelessly. A moment later, Sam hears the goon close the camera screen, set it down.

“If you think Dean’s going to care one whit that you’ve got me, you’re wrong.” Sam keeps his head down, staring at his lap; his voice feels rusty, throat thick with anticipation. “He’s not talking to me anymore. Probably he’ll just be glad you’re taking me off his hands.”

“What’s that? A little trouble in the family love nest?” Sam hears the flick of a lighter; a moment later, he smells tobacco smoke a moment later as the skinny demon takes a drag. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s nothing like seeing your property a little roughed up to make you realize how much you want it. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up thanking us when this is all over. Get your boy to take you on a proper little honeymoon, show him how much he loves you.” The second demon sniggers at this, and Sam grinds his teeth—it’s not like the insinuations are anything new, but they feel…dirtier somehow, now.

“What do you want from him?” Sam chances a glance up, meets the talker’s eyes over the glow of the cigarette. “If you’re looking for information, I’m your best bet. Dean’s just the muscle.”

“We’ve heard all the stories about you two.” The second demon speaks up from a few paces behind the first, looming in the shadows. “He’s the fire, you’re the brains. He fast-talks the bad guys, you cut the floor out from under them.” A pause. “He gets angry, you get even.”

The smaller guy nods, sneering. “He’s the ladies’ man, you only take it out on Sundays and holidays for a good polish.” A giggle. “Brothers, am I right?”

Sam shakes his head, as much to hide the motion of his left hand freeing itself as a conversational gambit. “That’s all you’ve gathered? Petty gossip and rumor?”

“Nah, big guy, all of that’s common knowledge.” The skinny demon takes a drag, contemplating him. “The point is, it’s always the two of you. Saving the world, or bringing on the apocalypse, or even just fucking over some frat boys at pool—it’s always a two-man con. And that’s the key, innit?”

Sam keeps up his disaffected expression, ignores the ice cube that’s slipped into his stomach. “What key?”

The demon doesn’t answer right away. He takes one last drag, long and luxuriant; blows out the smoke, examines the butt of his cigarette before putting it out on the back of the man’s right hand. “As you can tell, we’ve made something of a study of the two of you, over the years. Heard the others talk about you in hushed tones. Listened to the stories grow into that fearsome reputation. And we noticed something they all seem to miss.” The demon moves close, leaning forward on the arms of the chair, face hovering bare inches over Sam’s. “When the two of you are together, you’re unstoppable. Like a tornado, or an earthquake. An act of…you-know-who. But when you’re apart—when Dean thinks his precious Sammy is in danger…ah. Then you two have a markedly different effect on the world.”

“Neil.” The muscled demon speaks up, warningly. Smarter than he looks, probably smarter than his compatriot. But Neil holds up a hand, holds Sam’s gaze. “All we have to do is keep the hope alive. Send out lures, proof of life, false leads. And dear, sweet, angry big brother will do the rest.” A toothy smile. “He’ll burn down the world to find you. And we get to watch and laugh while the fire spreads—”

Sam drives his forehead forward, feels the satisfying crunch of collapsing cartilage. There’s barely time for a yelp from the demon, a spray of blood, before Sam reaches up, gets him into a headlock, squeezing the demon’s neck beneath one arm, the other hand between his shoulderblades. The body flails, nose spraying blood everywhere, but Sam holds on, warning pressure against the carotid, and the demon goes abruptly quiet, coughing and spitting blood onto the floor.

The muscle demon has a gun on him. Sam looks up, makes eye contact. “Nuh-uh,” he says, tightening his grip in unmistakable threat.

A scoff of disbelief. “Thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” the man says. “You can’t kill him.”

Sam gives a tight smile. “One thing I’ve found in this business.” Holding the larger demon’s eye, he reaches his free hand down, swipes it through the bloody mess of the smaller demon’s face—then brings his hand to his mouth. Inhales, savors the scent, savors the look of confusion on the bouncer’s face—then swipes his tongue along his palm. Swallows. Smears the remainder across his mouth, and grins bloody-toothed. “It pays to be certain of your research.”

His entire body blazes as the demon’s blood spreads through it—crack cocaine, unrefined but plenty potent. The veil seems to fall away from the world; the dingy darkness of the warehouse surrounding brightens, details springing into existence. He glances at the vessel before him, sees the shadow of the demon haunting it; a twitch of his fingers, and the shadow starts to struggle. The body’s eyes grow wide; it drops the gun, makes a choking noise as, inch by inch, Sam pulls the shadow from it, dissolves it into mist, then nothing.

“That was your first mistake,” he remarks, to the demon still spluttering beneath his arm. “Thinking I was the smart one.” He breaks the bonds around his legs easily enough, then pulls the demon from the skinny body; this one goes louder, screaming the whole way until it’s out.

Sam looks at the two of them, alive and breathing but unconscious, though for how much longer is anyone’s guess. He should check on them, he thinks; but here, standing tall with the world burning bright around him, he can’t quite see why he should care.

“The second was thinking Dean would burn down the world.” And with that, he strides off, letting the heavy door thunk shut behind him.

#whumptober2022 #supernatural #sam winchester #dark!sam #my writing

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lexallisonthailandtrip · 4 months

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The final two days in Chiang Mail were absolutely incredible ! On the 30th, we got picked up from our hotel and drove an hour out to the mountains north of the city to visit the Elephant Nature Camp. There are tons of elephant experiences around, but we researched the ethics of this camp and there’s even a documentary about the woman who started this project. She’s saved over 1000 elephants from poor tourism practices, over-riding and over-working. According to our tour guide, Having just 1 elephant makes you incredibly rich in Thailand but there aren’t many regulations on who can own so, a lot of people have no idea how to actually care for an elephant. They need 10% of their body weight in food every single day. This place orders 5 truckloads of bananas a day, plus rice and watermelon and sweet corn, the list goes on.

When we arrived we joined up with a group of 8 others who would be feeding and hiking with the elephants. To start out, We walked around the main camp and got to meet at least 10 different elephants. And we found out quickly how quiet elephants are, a couple of them walked right up behind us without us noticing while our tour guide was talking … it was a little terrifying turning around and seeing a 4 ton animal walking directly at you looking for a snack.

Elephants don’t look real. Even up close, it’s just hard to believe what you’re looking at and that a living walking breathing thing can be that massive…

After getting slightly more comfortable with the elephants, our guide walked us across a bridge over the river to the exclusive side. There, we met Saintong, Meadow, and Tatow. Elephants that were 55, 45, and 70 years old respectively. They’d all been working their entire lives and were bought to spend the rest of their lives healing in this camp. We made snowballs of rice and bananas and shoved it right into their mouth, and sliced watermelon and either put it in their mouth or handed it to their trunk and they’d transport it to their mouths. So fun! I bonded with Saintong, who the tour guide said is usually slower to open up to humans but, elephants are like a mirror - “she’s nice because you’re nice.” What a great compliment!

After the feeding we got banana bags and hiked with the three elephants through the jungle, feeding the bananas to them along the way. The elephants stayed below while we hiked up a hill with an amazing view of the jungle and river below, and dangled our feet off the edge while eating an amazing vegan lunch that had been prepared by the camp staff.

When we finished lunch, it was time for the elephants daily shower. We walked down to the river and led them in with bananas and watermelon, then tossed buckets full of water on their back to help them shower! Amazing experience watching the water glide down through the grooves in their skin, and the photographer and I started a water fight with the buckets.

Once we got out of the river, the elephants immediately started tossing dirt on their backs - protection from the sun! We hiked back through the jungle, and learned all about the trees and plants and the dogs that hiked with us the entire time. One plant was just like avatar - you touch the leaves and it closes right up! We hit up the gift store, I got a tshirt and met the oldest elephant at the park - 97 years old!!

Leaving the camp for our drive back - it still was hard to believe what we’d just experienced. Even now, looking at photos it seems like a dream! That day slingshotted elephants into my top spot for favorite animals. They are so cool!

We made it back to Chiang mai in the afternoon and grabbed the complimentary dinner from the hotel, jumped in the pool, then walked to the temple across the street to see it at night, and then off to the ChiangMai cowboy - an American bar in town, then a bookstore, and listened to live music at another bar!

Another top ten day!

The final full day in Chiang Mai was New Year’s Eve to celebrate the start of 2024! We woke up and went for a jog, had the amazing hotel breakfast, and lounged by the pool. Allison got a pina colada, I had a Chang, and we got our afternoon tea set - again, compliments of the hotel. At 5pm the hotel organized a show of traditional Thai music and dance. They were little kids, maybe 8-14 years old and put on a fun little show while we had drinks and small bites in the lobby. They invited people up from the crowd for the final dance - A great start to the evening!

After the show, we were planning on going to the east gate where we’d heard that everyone releases lanterns into the sky to celebrate the end of one year, and write wishes on the outside for hopes in the year to come. So, we started heading out and it also happened to be the Sunday night market - a complete coincidence that it coincided with NYE! So, we walked through about 2 miles of snacks, clothing, art, and anything you could possibly imagine was for sale. We stopped at the shooting gallery, then for coconut ice cream, waffles, posed for a picture with a scorpion on a stick (neither of us were brave enough to try!), and searched practically every clothing stand for a black long sleeve linen shirt for Allison to wear! Super fun. At one point We stopped at a rooftop bar for a couple drinks, and just watched the crowd pass - playing I-Spy for different folks in the crowd.

As we walked, we were having a great time but we’re actually a little discouraged. Multiple locals told us they didn’t think the lanterns were being released this year and even acted as if they had no idea what we were talking about. We were told the lantern festival happens in November, and no lateens on NYE…but the internet told us otherwise!

When we stopped for coconut ice cream, that’s when we first saw lanterns floating up into the sky. We were both immediately excited, and got up quickly to find out where it was happening! We snaked through the crowd, and finally saw tons of people lighting and releasing lanterns just past the east gate, over the canal that surrounds the old city square. We tried to find someone that would sell one to us, we looked at a store, then asked people until one couple was nice enough to give us a lantern! I bought matches earlier in the day, so we were all set! We lit our lantern, launched it in the sky, and made our wish for the year ahead! A perfect conclusion to our honeymoon, another top 10 day, and our buckets are filled up to the brim from all of the amazing experiences in this trip. We’re recharged and even a little excited and ready to come back home. We miss our pups!

Happy 2024!

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hellmouth-manor · 8 months

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Burning Both Ends of the Candle | Voting Results

The time for voting is soundlessly cut off. Pheo sits up straighter from where she lounges. There's her usual lazy smile peering over the group, soaking in the anger, fear, and frustration. It's a shame they have to move on.

"Alright, alright. Let's get to the best part, shall we? Oh who am I kidding! They're all so good."

She stands and clears her throat, a hand motions to the pillars of portraits and their candles.

"The votes have come in and it was quite the landslide!"

One portrait's candle melts more and more, nearly down to it's very stub.

"With one abstain we have a pool of 19 votes, and... Hisashi wins with all 19 votes!"

Pheo claps, looking at her fellow hostesses for a similar reaction. After an awkward few moments of clapping she snickers and snaps.

"Hisashi might have confessed to the murder but was he actually the murderer? After all maybe he and Cedric did a little switcharoo to pull the wool over your eyes? Only one way to find out."

That all too familiar snap rings out in the room. In the middle of the podiums' circle is something akin to a hologram, bright lights coming together forming shapes. Showing you exactly what happened...

Everything starts the evening before the murder takes place. Raoul sits in the library, alone save for the company of a good book until a figure enters the room– one cloaked in shadow, every feature nothing more than lightless black ink, entirely obscured. The figure’s voice is similarly obscured.

After pleasant greetings are exchanged, the figure asks Raoul if he would like to help them make breakfast for everyone in the morning, given that people seemed to enjoy the sleepover so much. Raoul is both happy and eager to agree, and after deciding on a time to get started, the two go their separate ways, the figure saying they should sleep early to be ready for the morning.

Rather than returning to any dorm room, the figure instead makes their way to a closet of cleaning supplies. They remove a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, taking it to the kitchen and putting it with the cleaning supplies under the sink.

There is a cut in the retelling– a jump to the next day.

The two meet in the kitchen, early in the morning, well before most of the others in the manor are awake. Although Raoul is a competent chef, he’s no match for the figure, who handles all of the baking for the elaborate breakfast they’ve planned. Once they’re finally done and have everything plated up, the figure suggests that they clean all their mess straight away so that they don’t have to come back afterwards. Raoul agrees, not realizing that by doing so, they are disposing of evidence for the crime about to take place.

After cleaning up, they bring everything out to the table under the gazebo in the courtyard— including a bucket with ice and an icepick to hold juice, so as to make it feel fancy, as per the figure’s idea. As Raoul finishes setting the table, the figure removes the ice pick from the bucket and steps up behind him. One arm is slung casually around the man’s shoulders to hold him still–

And with terrifying speed and accuracy, the figure plunges the tip of the ice pick through Raoul’s throat. Identity still hidden, the figure’s voice grates against the ears as everyone is made privy to a final conversation.

“No human could have put up such a complete facade. You remember writing that, don’t you?”

The figure yanks the ice pick out of Raoul’s throat, but keeps their other arm tight around the man’s shoulders so he doesn’t stumble. Clear to everyone, Raoul is too stunned by both the pain and what has just happened to even think to struggle or fight against them.

“Ghk— w-wh— █-███— ██— ?”

While Raoul struggles to speak, unable to even get a name out, the figure lets go of him– only to roughly shove him down against the table. The figure’s hand grips the back of Raoul’s head and holds him still. With their other hand, they begin positioning the ice pick at the opening of Raoul’s ear.

"I know this is an unfortunate way to learn it, but life lessons like this are important, hm? And, really– you should be glad we met like this. At least they'll actually find you here."

“H— ghg— h— !?”

With the same sure hand as before, the figure plunges the ice pick through Raoul’s ear canal with enough force for the entire length of the metal to enter. Unsurprisingly, Raoul goes silent. The figure, unnecessarily thorough, gives the ice pick a bit of a stir before yanking it back out– though not before positioning themselves so as to not be in the path of the spray of blood, arm moving in a wide arc to similarly keep their hand out of the way of it.

Once the deed is done, the figure lifts and slides Raoul’s body the rest of the way onto the table, which shoves a few of the empty serving dishes onto the ground in the process, as well as getting a small spot of blood on the figure’s apron. A problem for later, clearly, as they put the ice pick back into the bucket of ice without bothering to clean it off, with the handle only free of blood due to their expert handling.

They then gather up all of the food on the table, throw it into the fire pit, and set it all ablaze so that nobody will be able to tell what exactly was made. After that, they approach Raoul’s corpse and rummage through his pockets, getting an idea for something that they think will be absolutely hilarious. First, they pull out his phone. They also take his checkbook and write down his routing number on a napkin they’ve taken from the table, in addition to plucking a flower head that’s low to the ground near the gazebo. Finally, they lift Raoul’s head so that they can use his face to unlock his phone, carefully keeping it unlocked as they prepare to leave the scene.

Before exiting the courtyard entirely, they tear the napkin in two, tossing the blank part into the fire pit. After one last look around, they decide things look a bit too clean – or at least, that’s the implication easiest inferred – and kick over one of the chairs to make it seem like there was more of a struggle.

They go back inside, and on the way in, they drop the remaining piece of napkin near the entrance after wrinkling it up to imply that it had been shoved into a pocket before falling out. Next, they go into the kitchen and use the hydrogen peroxide they planted there before to easily wash the blood out of their apron and hang it up to dry. They then head into the hallway leading to where the Envy dorm is. After making sure they don’t see anyone, they place the bit of a flower near the Envy dorm’s entrance, squishing it with their shoe a little so that it looks like it was tracked in and wiping their own shoe clean.

Once that’s done, they head into another hallway on the second floor, opening one of the windows. They take out Raoul’s phone that they’ve kept unlocked this entire time, send a message to the group chat pretending to be Raoul inviting everyone to the gazebo for breakfast, and toss the phone out of the window.

As they walk away from the window and back towards the Lust dorm, the figure comes into clear view. Empty eyes, blank face— even after all of this, with the coming horrors to look forward to, Hisashi Beaumont still feels nothing at all.

#ch 1 #trial

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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scars- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: heavy mentions of insecurity, focus on scars, injuries, blood, wounds, canon violence about: requested! (PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, etc. + (PF26) person a wiping person b’s tears away a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope this is what you wanted and that you liked it!!

[ @tylard-blog1 ]

you’re aware that everyone on the team has them; natasha romanoff, even steve rogers, with his unbreakable milk skin, and bruce banner, with the green that tinges the hue of his temples when a scar is made. they’re reminders of what you do, some symbols of the lives that you’ve saved-- and others the lives that you’ve taken.

yes, everyone has them, but that doesn’t make you like the ones that litter your own body very much. nor does it stop you from looking away from them when you catch a glimpse of the scars that peek out of the clothing you specifically choose to hide them away from the curious eyes of the public. it doesn’t stop the frustrated tears that ebb in your eyes when you run the tips of your fingers over the raised tissue.

sometimes you realize how unfair it is of you to hate the scars that splay on your collarbone, and the ones that run across your hips and thighs, when you press your lips against the ones on bucky’s shoulder, pleading for him to believe you when you say you think he’s beautiful. the thought lingers when you playfully roll your eyes at natasha on the rare moment when she narrows her eyes at the healed bullet wound that sits above her hip, genuine words assuring her she looks great no matter what slipping out of the same mouth that utters ugly words at the mirror. you ignore it even as it guilts you when you touch the scars on bruce’s arms with featherlight fingers, pressing that they don’t make him a monster, or any of the hideous words with which he describes himself.

you try to tell yourself the reassurances apply to you, too, because they’re true-- the scars don’t diminish the beauty of your smile, or the glow that you carry, and they shouldn’t hinder the upwards pull of your lips when you catch a glimpse of them in the mirror-- but even as you try to convince yourself of that, your eyes always flit away, hand positioning itself in front of the scars as you examine the way you’d love yourself without them.

you were never aware of the blue eyes that caught your moments of dislike for yourself, missing the bead of worry that embedded itself in the cerulean of bucky’s irises.

it was on a particularly bad day of yours that one of your relatively smaller missions was scheduled. listed underneath your name was bucky’s, although he was only on there because he had demanded you never to go on a mission to an active hydra base alone, even though he knew you could handle it; you didn’t mind, always enjoying the quiet moments you got on the quinjet with bucky-- and the pilot, usually clint or steve, who bit their tongue, unlike sam or tony.

it would’ve been fine on any other day, but your day hadn’t started on the best note. the scars underneath your clothing seemed to burn every time you moved in the way they had when you first received them. you had stared at them for far too long, wishing you had the super-healing of the asgardian gods or the super soldiers you surrounded yourself with, who would never get permanent scars from the things you had experienced. they felt especially ugly sitting on your skin, making you want to lay in bed all day, pretending they didn’t exist.

your mission cut off your day of wallowing in your bed, forcing you to shove on your suit and sit in the quinjet to arrive at the mission you could’ve easily handled by yourself had it been another day and you had felt any other way.

you were from the same black widow program natasha was from; you were probably impossibly better, more ruthless and uncaring because from the moment you were born, you had nothing to lose, no family to protect, no memories of a childhood--even a fake one-- to hang onto. your movements were always calculated and perfect, like they had been forced to be, and your emotions were never supposed to cloud your anything-- they never did, except for when you had the days that knocked you off your feet, just like these.

nevertheless, you were distracted in the base with bucky, although you shouldn’t have been, considering the delicate information you were handling. you flawlessly did the routine of knocking guards unconscious, ignoring the way a harsh heat flashed in your hip when bucky’s hand touched the place where one of your more brutal scars was. it felt nearly as if he could feel it under his fingers, even though it was a ridiculous thought considering the material of your tac suit.

it was still going relatively fine; you had recovered the usb file you had been assigned to secure, and most of the guards were dead, fallen in a trail that created a clear pathway for bucky to find you, usb drive clutched tightly in your hand as you bled out on the floor, a knife thrown next to the pool of blood quickly forming underneath you and the person who had done it lying dead a few feet away. your gun was in your other hand, one of its bullets embedded in the hydra agents’ chest. bucky could hear the strangled gurgles of breathing coming from the agent, but he paid no attention to him as he rushed to your side, eyebrows furrowing as his hands reached the stab wound. you hissed sharply when you felt the cold of his vibranium fingers meet the burning hot of the injury, pressing down hard as lightly as he could while he mumbled something into the comms you never used. you were suddenly gathered into his arms, cringing when you heard a scream you didn’t realize was yours until you felt bucky’s lips moving in reassuring sentences next to your ear, a string of apologies falling from his lips. you never let go of the drive, desperate to keep hold of something that connected you to the real world, not wanting to focus on your other alternative: it was irrelevant when compared to everything else, but through the blinding red of pain, the only thing you could focus on was obsessing over the fact that a new scar would inevitably heal in place of the stab wound-- one you knew you would survive because you’d survived a hell of a lot worse than it, but the next ugly thing to form in your abdomen might just make you never want to see yourself again.

warm tears rolled down your cheeks as bucky carried you back into the quinjet, one of your hands tiredly fisted at bucky’s shirt, trying your best to stay awake but ultimately failing from the loss of blood and will.

it’s stupid. you’re aware, but your first thought when you open your eyes again is how there is yet another scar that will form on your abdomen, making tears rush to your eyes in frustration because it was your fault it was there anyways. had you just paid attention-- just not concentrated so on the wretched things, a new one would not be forming right now. the collection of ugly tissue that littered your skin was already too large.

the frustration you felt overpowered the painful numbness that settled over the wound in your abdomen, making dried tears spring back to life and dribble down your apple cheeks, alerting your boyfriend of your state. “doll? what’s wrong?” he asks, and at the sign he’s there, listening to your whimpers and audible disdain, the dam breaks loose, your hands reaching up to your face and tugging at the gash.

bucky’s up on his feet, tender hands circling around your wrists to pull them back down, “y/n, what’s wrong, doll?” he repeats, gentle blue eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. you squeeze your eyes shut, another salty trail making its way onto the bow of your lips. bucky’s warm fingers wipe away the wetness, his fingertips light.

“baby, please tell me what hurts,” he begs, his vibranium hand making its way into yours. you shake your head, squeezing his cold fingers. “i hate them,” you mumble, feeling his palm cupping your jaw, “i hate them so much.”

“hate what, honey?” he questions gently, brows furrowing further when he sees your hand curling into a loose fist above the place where his hands have lovingly settled: right on your scars. “i’m sorry,” you cry quietly, nose scrunching up when his fingers trace over the tissue he’s memorized the location of, “i hate them. they’re ugly and i hate them.”

“these?” bucky inquires, surprised. he lifts your shirt-- really, his-- to see the object of your tears, catching when you shut your eyes again and more tears drip off your jaw.

“bucky, no--”

bucky looks up at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “y/n…” he starts sadly, pulling away to get you to look at him. “they’re not... “ his eyes flick down to one of the scars, and he taps on it gently, “d’you remember this one? it was a couple years ago when i barely joined the team.” you can feel a lump growing in your throat, perfectly able to recall where you got it.

“you barely knew me back then, but you did know i was a super soldier, and you jumped in front of that bullet anyways. god, i knew i had to ask you out before someone knocked sense into anyone else.”

you sniffle, biting your lip, “this one,” he touches another one, “you saved nat and a little girl from a madman. her parents were so thankful they stayed with you until you woke up to thank you.” his finger wipes away another tear, “she invited me to her birthday party this year,” you snivel, and bucky smiles.

“these are not ugly-- you are not ugly, i promise.” he tells you. “i love you, every part of you--” his head suddenly ducks down, and you can feel his lips softly pressing against the scars, careful to avoid your newly forming one. your hand reaches his jaw, running your nail along his stubble as more thankful tears slip from your eyes. “i love you,” he repeats, kissing your lips.

“thank you,” you whisper against his lips, sniffling as you feel the burn on the scars slowly begin to disappear with the coolness of bucky’s vibranium fingertips.

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darkmulti · 3 years

Note

Hello I love your work so much, you are my fav writer I love your style and the way you paint your ideas! <3

I know you must have a lot of requests but could you please do a hard dom CEO jungkook, with innocent reader. Would be nice if you can add corruption kink, degrading and non con. Thank you!

⚠️: NON CON, DEGRADATION, CORRUPTION KINK, INNOCENT!READER, VIRGIN!READER, slapping, choking

-> I’m glad you like my work!! Sorry for the wait tho😭

-> I didn’t “add” too much corruption kink because it’s kinda hard to incorporate corruption kink and non con

-> sorry for any mistakes

“Y/N! In my office now!”

The moment you sat down on your chair, your boss called you again

You quickly stood up and hustled into his office

“Yes, Mr. Jeon. Is something wrong?”

You politely asked

“What the hell did you put in my coffee?”

“Regular, sir. Two milks and one sugar.”

“Did you check the expiration date on the milk?”

“Uh… no”

“God damnit! Are you trying to poison me, Y/N?! You can’t do the simplest tasks right! Get out of my sight.”

“Sir, I can make you another-”

“I said get out!”

You immediately left his office and sped off into your own

You closed the door gently before covering your mouth and bursting out into tears

The constant yelling and degrading was slowly breaking you down

He never appreciated any of your hard work, instead he focused on the small flaws you made

You knew you deserved better so that night you went home and wrote a resignation letter

The next day you went to work and gave it to Mr. Jeon

“Mr. Jeon, this is my resignation letter. I can’t work here anymore. It’s not good for my mental health.”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue and crumbled the letter

“You have to give me a two weeks notice. That way I can start looking for your replacement. However, I have a business trip next week and you have to come with me.”

“What if I find someone that can take my place?”

“No, I want you to go with me and that’s final.”

Next week

You were at the airport with your carry on bag in hand and your passport in the other

Jungkook was in front of you, leading the way to the private jet

Once you both were seated, he poured himself and you a drink

“So, tell me why you want to quit.” He said, taking a sip of his Blue Label whiskey

You didn’t want to tell him the real reason, which was because of him

You thought it’d make the trip more awkward if he knew that you were quitting because of him and you also didn’t want to sound mean

So the best excuse you could come up with was that you found a more suitable job

You told him lies after lies, thinking that he was believing you

Little did you know, Jungkook could see right through you

He knew the real reason you were quitting was because of him

He was purposely cruel to you and you’ve finally reached your breaking point

It was amusing to him

Did you really think that you could trick him?

How cute

Jungkook knew that whole suitable job excuse was a lie because he keeps his eyes on you all day and night

While you were asleep, Jungkook broke into your apartment and installed tiny cameras all around

So he could keep an eye on you

He also hacked into your phone and installed a tracking app, just in case

He got access to all your emails, social media, phone calls, photos, text messages — ect.

Anyways, back to the private jet

You were in the back of the jet sleeping since it was a long flight and you get air sick

You felt something around your waist so you looked down and see a tattooed arm

You immediately recognized who it was and got up, waking up Jungkook in the process

“I- I’m sorry, sir. You should’ve woke me up and I would’ve given you the bed.”

“It’s fine, we’re about to land anyways.”

After you guys landed, you both headed towards the car in the hangar

The driver took you both to a luxury hotel

The building itself was super unique

The transparent, rooftop pool was definitely something you were looking forward to

Jungkook had paid for your hotel room

You guys had rooms right next to each other so it’s more convenient for him

It was still 10 in the morning, so Jungkook allowed you to sleep for a little while but by 12pm, you guys had to leave for an important meeting

The afternoon was packed with meetings, presentations & preparations for a small business party

You were exhausted because Jungkook kept you running back and forth while he was sitting on his ass

By the end of the day you were tired as hell, but luckily everything went smoothly

Jungkook seemed to be okay with how everything turned out

You were relieved to say the least

He’d usually find something to complain about

It was 10pm when you both arrived at the hotel

Jungkook said he was going to go shower and sleep so you bid goodnight and went into your room

Even though you were physically and mentally exhausted, your mind couldn’t fall asleep

You figured it was because of the amount of coffee you consumed

Since you couldn’t fall asleep, you decided to put on your swimming suit and go upstairs to try out the pool

Once the elevator doors opened, you were surprised to see so many people on the rooftop dancing and drinking

You still went to the pool even though it was loud and packed

On your way to the pool, you accidentally bumped into a group of guys

They notice your somewhat revealing swimming suit and offered a drink

You were going to reject but all of them were pressuring you to have at least one drink with them, so you stupidly agree

One drink turned into two and so on

You started dancing with the guys and they were all cheering you on

This was it

This was the attention you were craving for

You were a little wasted but still had your senses

You held one of the boy’s hand and took him to the swimming pool

“You said you were good at swimming… so make sure I don’t drown.” You drunkly said before jumping in

The man chuckled at your behaviour and jumped in afterward to make sure you don’t do anything dumb

After swimming, you had more drinks and danced more with everyone

The night was going so well until someone pulled you away from all the chaos

“Heyyyy, what’re you doing man? The party’s over there.” You said, pointing back to the crowd

He wasn’t responding so you tried to look at his face but the lights were burning your eyes

You looked down at his arm and recognize his tattoos

Once you realized who he was, it was too late

“M- Mr. Jeon, why’re you up so late?”

He brought you back to his room and shoved you in

Jungkook pushed you against the door and slapped you hard

It brought you back to reality real fast

“Are you dumb, Y/N?! Going upstairs without telling me anything, drinking and dancing with men you don’t know— do you know how dangerous that is?! Is your head hollow?!” He yelled in your face and hit the side of your head a couple of times, checking if it was hollow

“Do you know what they would’ve done to you if I didn’t come?! Let me fucking show you.”

He pushed you towards the bed and you slipped because of your wet feet

You started backing away from him, but you knew you were doomed when your back hit the side of the bed

“Mr. Jeon, please. I was just trying to have fun-” another hard slap landed on your cheek and this one was enough to make you tear up

“Fun? You want to have fun? Okay then, let’s have some fun.”

He pulled you up by your wrist and pushed you down on the bed

“Mr. Jeon, please! I’m so sorry! I don’t know how it all happened!”

You were sobbing at this point because Jungkook looked terrifying

He was beyond pissed and his eyes were showing it all

“You think a “sorry” can fix what you did?! You’re so fucking stupid! This is why I yell at you all the time because your dumb, little head knows nothing. Without me, you wouldn’t be living so comfortably. I give you a good pay, so you can pay rent, buy food and clothes without worrying about money. But, what do I get in return? A resignation letter…” he scoffs before continuing “… You’re just a dumb, naive, whore that would be homeless right now if I didn’t take care of you. Maybe this is why your parents abandoned you.”

Your bottom lip started to wobble and before you knew it, you were bawling your eyes out in front of him

His words were so harsh, you weren’t ready for it at all

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You apologized over and over and over but he still wasn’t satisfied

“H- how can I make it up? Please, give me a chance.”

His hand went towards your private area and you started shaking your head profusely

“No, no, no… anything but that please…”

“Well, there’s nothing else that you have that I want.”

“I’m n- not comfortable though.”

Jungkook grabbed your face and stared deep into your eyes

“Does it look like I care?”

Jungkook continued on

He ripped your swim suit off and pulled down his pants

“Please be gent-”

You screamed when you felt him push into you

You grabbed his arms and tried to push him away but he easily dominated you

He pinned your hands above your head and spat down on his cock for some lube

Without any warning, he pushed his full length in, causing you to squirm around and cry

Your purity blood dripped down onto the bed sheets while you kept pleading for him to stop

“Mr. Jeon, please! I- I was sa- saving till marriage.” You sobbed

“That’s even better. Now we can get married.”

“No! No! I don’t want that.”

Jungkook pushed your legs apart and started going at a fast pace

“You don’t want to get married to me? Well, that’s too bad because I don’t care about what you want.”

Each of his thrust were powerful and rough

He wrapped his hand around your neck so anytime you rejected him in a way, he’d squeeze until you’d shut up

Your face was hot and red from all the slapping and choking

He covered your neck in hickeys

All night, he was fucking you

The headboard was banging against the wall so hard, it left dents in the wall

There was cum overflowing out of you, but Jungkook still didn’t stop

He pounded you until your body gave up on you

You couldn’t fight anymore

You weren’t talking, crying or moving

All you could do was whimper softly when it really hurt

Jungkook noticed you were on the verge of passing out, so he quickened up his pace and came into you before collapsing on top of you

“You would’ve been in so much more pain if I didn’t save you from those guys. So what do you say to me?”

You weakly open your eyes and look into his

“T- Thank you.” You whisper softly before falling unconscious

Decided to end it here bc I don’t have the brain power to continue writing. Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 2am

#jungkook smut #bts smut #non con #bts yandere #yandere bts

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divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

bitter fruit

Summary: “The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

Characters: Bucky Barnes/(f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (oral fem receiving, Bucky is a slut for consent), language, graphic depictions of violence, blood

Word Count: 9338

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested an enemies to lovers with eventual smut and I got so so carried away with this request and ended up writing this 9k chonker! (5k of it is smut so, carry on) HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! Enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you snap, “maybe about saving all the innocent people that’ve been trapped in HYDRA’s basement for god knows how long?”

Bucky snarls at you, grabbing the front of your tac-suit and pulling you up until your nose is inches from his. A striking pain shoots through your side like a bullet, which is funny, considering the hole he stitched up for you what seemed like seconds ago.

But just like your relationship, numb one second and blazing the next, it’s like some switch has flipped in his brain in a matter of minutes.

You should really give him some more credit—the man describes his brain as spaghetti most days. And as funny as it sounds, it really isn’t. You’re keenly aware of the haunted look that fills his eyes when he struggles with his past.

Except when he acts like this, it’s hard to remember that.

Something smells of smoke and gunpowder. People are screaming. The men who just ran through the door are shouting in Russian, you know, because you’ve heard the same language from Bucky’s mouth when he’s having nightmares. Faintly, you realize there’s a pain just above your hip. You don’t have time to look. The gun is in your hands and you’re firing. Someone—innocent, crying—bumps into you as they flee the scene. Your shot goes wide.

Bucky’s voice crackles over the comms. “Where are you?” He sounds panicked.

“Got held up,” you respond. “I’m on my way. Civilians headed to you.”

He curses your name. “I told you to get back to the jet!”

The butt of an assault rifle is hurtling toward you and you duck, rolling across the dirty concrete. The pain in your side flares up, burning. You think you might’ve gotten shot. You return the favor, killing two more HYDRA agents.

“I took a detour.”

A moment to breathe. Your eyes roam over the cells that you uncovered in the base, checking for any signs of life you previously missed. It’s all dead bodies and blood. You’re starting to feel weak.

“Get back to the fucking jet, agent! The base is rigged to blow!”

Before you can reply, someone grabs you by the hair, the muzzle of a gun pressed into your neck. On reflex and instinct alone, you thrust your elbow into his side and disarm him just in time. The gun goes off, bullet lodging in the concrete. Fucking slug would’ve ripped right through you.

“Bit busy,” you reply to Bucky.

Your name is lost to the sound of you firing the last few rounds into your attacker. When you’re sure he’s dead, you slump to the wet floor, knees unable to hold you any longer. The pain in your side is killing you—probably literally. A gasp escapes you when you press your fingers to the wound, trying to staunch the blood from the bullet hole, but at this point, you guess it doesn’t matter. The base is going to go up in flames in a few more minutes and you don’t have the strength to get back to the quinjet.

And really, you don’t want to. Bucky’s gonna be pissed.

“Hey, Barnes,” you wheeze through the comms. He doesn’t reply. “You know how you got all pissy at Sam when he ate your last loaf of that banana bread, and you put all those laxatives in his brownies and he was shitting for like, days? Yeah, that was me. I ate your banana bread.”

He never replies, but you chuckle all the way until you fall asleep, cheek pressed into a pool of someone’s blood.

He says your name now, catching your attention again, and when you roll your eyes at him he shakes you again. With a hiss of pain, you try and shove him away from you, but his dumb super soldier ass is too heavy.

“That hurts!”

“Good!” Bucky finally lets you go and you slump against your seat, wincing. “Maybe the pain will make you stop being so fucking reckless! You defied a direct order from your captain. You could have died.”

“Maybe I should have,” you mutter back, not looking at him.

“I should be so lucky,” he seethes. “If I hadn’t gone back for your dumbass, your body wouldn’t have even been recovered. You would have rotted in that damn HYDRA base. Is that what you want?”

You snort. “Ain’t like I got a family who wants my ashes.”

Bucky throws up his hands, exasperated, and then decides to pace up and down the aisle of the jet. He doesn’t look at you, and you only sneak glances at the rage painting his face when you’re sure he isn’t going to see you staring. He looks just as worn as you, the sole sleeve of his tac-suit bloody and ripped up, charred remains and soot skimming his boots where he’s tied the laces tight. Sweat-matted and probably dried with blood, his hair is falling in chunks from the bun he usually keeps it in for missions now, and he has to brush it out of his face every few paces he takes.

In another phrase, Bucky is fucking hot right now.

Maybe death would have been tragic, you muse, since you wouldn’t get to see the absolute specimen of your partner anymore.

For as much as you two hate each other, you can’t deny how gorgeous he is. Ripped to match the gods, carefully trimmed beard only a little more bristled than the one Steve sports these days, and god, the man wears a sweater like it’s Armani.

When you blink, you realize he’s looking at you, and your face flushes. It isn’t the first time he’s caught you staring at him hungrily, you’re sure, but most of the time he gets this stupid smug look on his face, lips wide in a smirk, and sometimes he’ll even throw you a flirty little line that has you gnashing your teeth and snapping at him to fuck off.

But this time, he’s so angry that he just stares at you, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“When we get back,” he says, nostrils flaring, “I’m benching you.”

“What?” you cry out, eyes wide. “Why the fuck—who the—who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Your captain!” he roars, and you almost swear the whole jet shakes with his fury. “You disobeyed my direct order to retreat to the jet and instead you almost cost us both our lives. Why the fuck shouldn’t I bench you?”

“I didn’t ask you to come save me!” you shout back, trying to stand from your seat. Almost immediately, Bucky shoves you back down.

“Not only am I your captain for this mission, but I’m your partner. I’m responsible for you. What, you just expect me to leave you behind?”

“The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

The way that Bucky is looking at you right now steals all your breath away, steals all the fight you feel in your bones. You watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way the vein in his neck jumps, the way he holds his jaw tight. His eyes, a blaze of blue, are looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve right in front of him, leaving behind a body bag of skin and bones and teeth. That’s all you are, maybe.

“Stay with me,” he says, voice so close to your ear. “Please, just stay with me, doll.”

It’s all hazy. The world is black. You can’t open your eyes, they’re so heavy. Your body hurts so bad, so fucking bad. Someone is jostling you and it hurts so bad and you just want to open your mouth and scream.

“You’re okay.” It’s Bucky, you realize in some vague fog of a dream. “You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.”

Your leg feels like it’s on fire. The air smells like the fourth of July, all fire and gunpowder and barbeque. Burnt flesh. It’s hot and thick, the smoke you’re breathing in.

“I have so much to tell you,” he whispers, maybe. Or maybe that’s just how it sounds in your mind. “So much to say to you. So much to apologize for. I need to tell you something. You told me about that dumb fucking banana bread. I have something I gotta tell you, doll.”

What? What does he have to tell you? You want to ask but your throat is so dry and your lips are glued together.

You want to tell him you aren’t dying, and god, he’s being so dramatic. But you can’t, because you might actually be dying.

Instead, you try so so so hard to open your eyes, and a sliver of light invades your vision, and even with the way your eyelids shudder, you can see Bucky’s face. Just a little bit. He’s covered in blood, you think.

Oh, but his eyes. Fuck, you love his eyes. Thank god you opened yours so you could stare at his eyes before you go to sleep again. So blue. So deep. So icy and sad and hurt and beautiful.

“Please,” he says, and you swear it’s the only time he’s ever begged you for anything.

Of course, you tell yourself before your eyes close again. I’d do anything for you.

“Why do you care?” you whisper, and he blanches, because you swear his damned super soldier hearing can even hear your thoughts.

But fuck it, you’re young, wild, and free, and you’re alive now too, so fuck it.

“Why do you care?” you repeat, louder this time, very clearly addressing him. “Why do you care so much if I die? You’ve hated me since the day you met me,” you spit the words out like poison.

Bucky turns away, gaze trained on something other than you and your bloodied tac-suit.

“We’ve always fought about this,” you continue. “This isn’t anything new, Barnes. You knew I’d go down to save those people. You knew I’d risk my life to get them out. You know this and you still fucking went after me. So why?”

The silence eats at every edge you have until it consumes you, and Bucky never replies.

You watch him walk away, toward the cockpit, and you don’t have the energy to follow him and finish the fight.

“Get it through your pretty little head before you go on a mission and get yourself killed, doll.” Bucky’s smirk sends a shiver through you and you aren’t sure if it's anger or arousal. You bite down on your tongue to keep from lashing out. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Bullshit,” you say before you realize. Bucky’s eyes go wide. “I took this job because I have the ability to save people, so I’m going to save everyone.”

His mouth opens but you cut him off.

“I don’t care if you can’t save everyone, but me?” Your finger is braced against his hard chest and he doesn’t recoil. “I’ll save everyone or I’ll die trying.”

“Hey,” Steve says, trying to move between you two, but you barely notice his presence.

“You’re stupid,” Bucky hisses.

You smirk. “You’re not as skilled as you think you are.”

“Shut up,” he snarls.

“Make me,” you snap back.

“Guys,” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Meet me in the ring.” Bucky’s eyes are glaring down at you, heated. “Let’s see if you can handle me, doll.”

“Buck!” Steve’s hand falls on Bucky’s shoulder, working to hold him back from stalking off to the gym. But Bucky shrugs him off.

“Back off, Steve.” He looks over his shoulder at you as if daring you to follow.

And, fuck, you’ve never backed down from a challenge in your entire life, so you follow him all the way to the training room, watching the way his muscles strain through his tight t-shirt the whole way.

He’s kind enough to hold the ropes up so you can duck under easier, but you roll your eyes and leverage your foot against the spring and tuck your legs underneath you to jump the top rope easily. You throw him the same look that he did, a coy gaze over your shoulder, and then you beckon him forward.

His nostrils flare and you wonder what he’d look like on top of you in bed.

“Wrap your hands, for god’s sake,” Steve shouts, but you ignore him in favor of cracking your knuckles for good measure.

“I’m not planning on getting mine bloody,” you tell him, and Bucky laughs brusk.

“You should plan on losing,” he says, smirking.

With a twist of your jaw, you crack your neck. “Not planning on that, either.”

Like big cats, the two of you circle each other, toes so light the mat makes no noise. Bucky’s eyes are focused, narrowed, and beautiful like this, you think. He’s calculating every single movement you’re making and it sends a heat down to your core. This is all just foreplay to you.

Until he charges, and then it’s on. You’re a flurry of limbs, defensive stances and blocks. Bucky is unrelenting and the fucker is fast for his size. He never uses his metal arm to attack, but the manic whirr and click of it as he moves is alarming. There’s a window of opportunity when Bucky overshoots a right hook and you duck underneath his arm, and you’re able to get behind him and kick him the back of his knee. He falters for not even a second and then it’s back on.

It’s a dance, weaving between limbs and twirling kicks aimed at his head. You struggle to figure out how to take him down—he’s so big, like a fucking brick wall. There’s very little chance you can flip him. You’re going to have to try and get him in a hold, but there’s no way he’s going to allow you to do that.

But maybe you can bait him. You go on the attack now, whiffing a couple of good punches and sending a straight kick right at his jaw that he barely dodges. While you’re recovering, before your foot is even planted back on the mat, Bucky does exactly what you want him to do. He slides up with a fist and you feign a misstep, ducking right. His follow-through is too heavy and you grab his wrist, locking it in your grasp, and then your heel goes straight into his abdomen, right under his center of gravity.

He goes down and you relish in the moment his eyes blow wide with the shock of being caught off guard. You scramble on top of him but he rocks his hips up and starts to roll you both until you’re underneath him. In retaliation, you lock one foot around his calf and use your other knee to jab his stomach, and then you roll him underneath you instead. Your forearm presses against his neck, legs squeezing his middle.

God, he’s fucking pretty, his blue eyes all big and pants falling out of his pink lips. Sweat is dripping from his hairline and rolling off the bridge of his nose and it pleases you, the fact that you made Bucky Barnes bust his ass in a fight. You know you have to look like a drowned dog by now, so how the fuck is he still so pretty? For that, you press down on his throat harder until he taps the mat—a yield.

Immediately you’re off him, panting as you lean against the ropes, but a shit-eating grin is plastered on your face. Bucky looks anywhere but you, wiping his damp face on his shirt, which gives you the most perfect flash of his carved abs.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “we can agree to disagree, right?”

He stares at you for a hard moment, a longer moment than he has before, and you swallow as desire crawls up your spine. Then, Bucky ducks under the ropes, grabs his towel, and gets the hell out of dodge.

“Fuck you too, Barnes!” you shout, and you know he must’ve heard you.

He helps you walk off the quinjet and you hate literally every second of every moment that you have to have his arm wrapped around your waist. Mostly because you’re pissed at him and you hate being babied, but also because god, you can imagine Bucky holding you like this in a different context way better than you should be able to.

Those thoughts are the demons in your brain and you need someone to exorcise you. Probably Natasha. No, Natasha will make fun of you. Wanda, then.

As soon as you’re out of the hangar, Bucky asks FRIDAY if there’s anyone in the medbay, and your neck about snaps in half from how fast you turn.

“No,” you say. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to medical.”

He cuts you a glare. “As if you have a say in it.”

“I do have a say! It’s my body! This is the twenty-first century, Barnes. My body, my choice!”

“You’re injured,” he grits through his teeth. “We’re going to medbay.”

“I don’t need to go!” You start dragging your heels, trying to make yourself heavier, but Bucky is a super soldier and probably throws mack trucks for a living or something. “You stitched me up! The burns aren’t that bad, either. I’m fine, I’m not going to medical.”

“God, can you ever give me a break?” he groans. “Why are you always so fucking difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult!” you snarl, trying to push away from him, but his grip tightens. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, maybe I am, since I don’t know why the fuck you give two shits about saving my quote-unquote dumbass who almost got us both killed, and I don’t know why the fuck you care about getting me to medical when you’re gonna bench me anyway! Right, thanks a lot Barnes, I’m so stupid for not fucking figuring it out!”

“You are!” he roars, and then your back is against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from hitting it. He corners you there, covering your body with his, ducking down so your mouths are so close you would only need to reach up a little to kiss him, and god, that’s tempting.

Not tempting enough when you’re this pissed off, though.

“So that’s what it is, huh? You just think I’m some stupid, incapable little girl who is so impractical because all she wants to do is save lives? You think I’m so stupid that I don’t know that people are going to die? And they’re going to die because I can’t save them? Maybe you should think about how I could never live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to save them, so I risk my life to get them to safety. I would never ever risk yours, you stupid, arrogant, ignorant—”

Oh, Jesus.

His lips are hot when they crash against yours, pinning you between him and the wall. It’s desperate, the kind of kiss you’ve never had before. It’s so desperate and you want to pull away and ask him, Bucky, what are you so desperate for? He kisses you like he wants to keep you, his mouth swallowing yours like he can’t get enough of you. It’s hungry and begging and you don’t ever want it to stop, your teeth nipping blood from his bottom lip as if it’ll stop him from leaving, but he pulls away, leaving you breathless anyway.

“You’re stupid,” he repeats again and you watch his tongue dart out to taste the blood you’ve ripped from his skin. It sends a thrill of pleasure through you. “You’re so stupid.”

And he kisses you again and you decide that sure, maybe you’re stupid, you’ll be stupid all day long because he’s going to kiss you stupid.

It’s your hands that move first, you realize in some random corner of your mind. Your fingers twine in his brown locks, tugging the hair tie away and flinging it somewhere. Vaguely, you realize you’re still in the middle of the hallway, on the way to the elevator, but you don’t give a shit. The hand that isn’t twisting Bucky’s scalp finds the material of his tac-suit and starts pulling at all the straps and buckles, searching for a sliver of his hot skin in any capacity.

His own hand, the one not holding the back of your head, skims over your waist and flutters down your uninjured hip, grasping at the flesh underneath your suit. Suddenly, you’re overcome with the need to get these fucking clothes off, and immediately, and you break the kiss so you can suck down air and ask the man you’ve been hating, been pining after, to take you to bed.

As you do, Bucky trails a hot path of sloppy kisses down your chin, over your jaw, against your neck, until he finds the juncture of your shoulder and attaches his teeth there, nibbling on a patch of skin that is so distracting you forget about your question for a minute. And then your fingers run over a rough spot on his suit and you remember.

“Bucky,” you gasp out, and it sounds so heady that you nearly throw your head back. “Bucky,” you repeat, more urgently, when he doesn’t let up, your hand is tightening on his sleeve and tugging on it.

His head snaps up now, eyes piercing yours, concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving your hair away from your face to look closer at you.

“Bed,” you rasp out, but barely. “Now, please.”

He doesn’t move for a second, just staring at you like he’s scared, like he’s surprised you would ask. You see his eyes sort of glaze over, a reminder of the nightmares he’s seen, the nightmares he replays over and over in his head, but you’re selfish and your core is pulsing with a heat you’ve never felt this hot before and you need him here, not wherever his mind is taking him.

“Please, Bucky,” you say, and he blinks, and then he’s present again.

“Anything for you, doll,” he whispers, and your legs nearly collapse beneath you at the thought. Bucky scoops you into his arms carefully, trying not to jostle your wound too much, and then he sweeps you into the elevator and you’re speeding toward his room and hoping to god that Steve isn’t prowling around.

In a haze of kissing and excitement, you barely recognize that Bucky’s opening his door until it’s closed behind you and he’s walking you through his room and to his bed.

God, you’ve wanted to be in his bed for so fucking long.

He drops you among the sheets gently, so starkly different from the harsh tone of his voice only a few minutes earlier when he was yelling at you, and you’re not sure what you like better. You want Bucky to fuck you, to rip you in half and put you back together like he always does. But you want him, so badly, to make love to you just as much, but you’d never admit that to him.

Bucky’s kissing you so sweetly now, and then his kisses get more forceful, more needy, and you suck on his tongue until he’s panting above you. His hands are everywhere, sliding over your suit, unstrapping and unzipping and unbuckling all your gear, and your hands fumble in tune with his, trying to help him get you out of your clothes.

Just before he takes off your vest, he kisses you and asks, “Is this okay?”

You rip the vest off yourself, sitting up on your elbows to rip your undershirt off with it, leaving you in a black sports bra.

And you revel in the way Bucky stares at this new flesh. His lips find your sweaty skin, covering every inch that’s been revealed now as your fingers start taking his tac-suit apart the way he did yours. Soon, you’re frustrated, and you whine and pull at it until he huffs a laugh and takes it off himself. His vest gets thrown to the side and his tank top follows, leaving him bare-chested.

Your fingers are shaky as they touch his tanned skin and you almost laugh at how nervous you are. You’ve spent so long looking at him, hating him, wanting him, and now you have this stretch of his wide chest in front of you and all you can do is let your fingertips glide over him, mouth parted, eyes hazy.

His pupils are blown wide, too, and Bucky takes your hand in his and presses it against him harder, and suddenly you’re feral.

Your hands slide over every part of him, taking in the expanse of him. His biceps, his strong shoulders, the hard planes of his body. As gentle as possible, you trail your fingers closer and closer to the scar where metal meets flesh, and you glance up at him, a silent question, and when he gives you the smallest nod, you smooth over the gnarled rift of skin. You don’t ask if it hurts. He gives no indication that it does. And when you reach up to press a soft kiss to it, he shudders above you.

“Please,” he whispers, so quietly. “Let me touch you, doll.”

You lay back and start to unstrap your holsters, gesturing for Bucky to help you with your pants. He unlaces your boots for you as you throw your weapons to the ground, the clink of belts and buckles mingling in the silence, a song that ignites the excitement inside of you.

Your core is molten lava, the apex of your thighs dripping and Bucky hasn’t even touched the most intimate parts of you yet. Every single fiber of your being is trembling in anticipation, and in your hurry to strip your pants off, a twinge of pain shoots through you as you bend the wrong way, stitches pulling.

Bucky curses—like he’s the one who’s hurt you and you aren’t the idiot trying to rip her pants off—and just like he can flip the switch on his attitude, he flips the switch on this, too. He’s off of you before you realize, sitting back on his haunches, staring down at you in panic.

“I’m—Baby,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I'm sorry.”

His hands are outstretched, reaching for you, trembling as he swallows hard. You watch as his eyes shift in the space between your face and the white gauze wrapped around the bullet wound in your side.

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him down. He doesn’t budge, not much at least, but you meet him the rest of the way and your lips collide with his in a thunderous crash, and like instinct, he kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Doll,” he mumbles against your mouth and you drink the word from his tongue, distracting him. “We can’t.”

“We can,” you growl back, teeth reminding him of the pulsing ache between your thighs. In search of more, your hips roll up and meet his own, causing a groan to tumble out of his mouth into your own.

Fuck the pain—you’ll grit your teeth and bear it. This is the only moment you’ll ever have him, and by god, you need him.

Your hands return to your pants. “Help me,” you plead, breathless, unable to shimmy out of them. Bucky’s already pulled your boots off, socks coming with them, and his fingers find the heated flesh right beneath your waistband.

“Are you sure?”

All you can do is whine his name until he understands, and then Bucky is peeling your black pants from your legs, the rush of cool air rolling over your hot skin feeling almost as good as his hands are going to feel if he’ll just put them on you.

When his palms finally fall upon your thighs, rough and calloused and big and warm, you need much more, so much more. The way he trails his fingers down your knees, caressing your calves, brushing atop your ankle, and then coming back up to have his thumbs follow the ridge of muscles in your thighs, it all makes you shiver in pleasure. You’re so hot, sweat pooling in the small of your back against the bed, the dampness of your core becoming harder to ignore.

You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache and Bucky notices—of course he notices—and his mouth finds your neck again, sucking until dark bruises begin to mar your skin, until you’re bowing off the bed, arching toward him, trying to get something, anything. Anything from him.

At some point, you realize he’s just torturing you on purpose, letting his hands roam the stretch of your stomach, smooth over the hills of your hips, and then draw down your legs until you’re shaking as he kisses you so softly, and then so roughly, like he can’t decide if he wants to grow old with you or if he wants to ruin you for whoever comes after him.

You sit up and reach around, fingers intent on unclasping your bra, but Bucky stops you with a nip at your bottom lip.

“Will you let me?” he asks, so sweetly. Bucky’s hand finds yours and bats them away, his fingers on the hooks as he waits for your answer.

“Yes,” you moan as his other hand tickles down the curve of your side. “God, please, yes.”

“Bucky,” he says, smirking against the side of your neck.

“Shut up and undress me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, when you ask so sweet like that, baby.”

With a quiet click, your bra comes undone and Bucky pulls it away from your body, and then your breasts are bare before his eyes. Now, it’s your turn to be doused in ice, to freeze, for the switch to flip.

You feel shy beneath his gaze, the way he looks at your nearly naked body with such reverence, as though this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Your knees close and your elbows draw in over your chest without your permission. It’s not like you want to hide from him, but he looks so perfect atop you, so beautiful in every single facet, better than any dream you’ve ever had of him, and you can’t stop yourself.

What have the other girls looked like underneath him? Better than you, surely. Prettier, skinnier, smaller, sexier. For fuck’s sake, you’ve got a nasty burn on the side of your leg and were shot through your left side only a few hours ago, your middle wrapped in medical tape. You can’t be that pretty a picture.

You’ve had your shot at him and you’re gonna lose it.

But when you look up, Bucky’s looking at you like you’re everything. His face is flushed, red creeping down his neck, and his eyes are soft, hazy, glassy. Gently, his fingers find your jaw and cup your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Let me look at you, baby.” His voice is almost as rough as the worn skin of his hand, dry and gravelly and thick with lust. When Bucky moves to grasp your wrists, you let your eyes flutter closed and nod, allowing him to peel your arms away from where they hide you, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes.

“God,” his voice shudders. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. I couldn’t have dreamed you up if I tried, and I promise you, I tried.”

Your eyes fly open at this. “What?”

If it bothers him, he doesn’t act like it. Bucky leans down to nuzzle his nose against your collarbone, kissing and licking your skin like he’s making constellations out of your body—bruises connected only by his tongue.

“I’ve thought about this since the day you kicked my ass in the ring.” He sounds like he’s reciting a prayer, all whispered desires. “Your perfect lips, what they’d feel like, how soft they are. If you’d touch my scars, and how your fingers would feel on them all if you did.”

His mouth closes over the mound of your breast, the clash of tongue and teeth upon your nipple forcing you to arch into him in pleasure. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and you aren’t quite aware that you’re even whining until his free hand crawls up from your hip and cups your other breast, thumb strumming over your peaked nipple. The breathy moans that pour from your mouth fill the room and only seem to make Bucky work faster, work harder, as he drags every drop of pleasure out of you with every instrument he has. Your hips buck up and into his, your thinly-clothed core catching the tent in his pants—his tac-suit, you realize, is still on—and it makes you both groan in a symphony of need.

“Need you,” you somehow manage to get out between your heavy panting, hips still searching for something to relieve the ache in your center. “Bucky, please.”

He releases your nipple from his lips, the chill assaulting the wet bud making you bow from the bed once again. Bucky places a kiss on the other, letting his tongue lave over it until it's just as wet and hard.

“I imagined what you’d sound like,” he says against your stomach, punctuating his words with a smattering of kisses across your skin. “Thought about what you’d—fuck, baby—I thought so much about how you’d look beneath me all spread out, just for me.”

The sound you make in reply is almost embarrassing as how soaked your panties are.

“Wondered how you’d taste.” He lets his tongue drag across the hem of your underwear and you press up, trying to get his mouth closer, but his hands settle on your hips and gently hold you to the bed.

“Bucky!” you try and growl, but it comes out an octave too high. “Please!”

“What is it, babydoll?” His fingers curl underneath, thumbs riding the line of skin just beneath your panties.

“I need you!” You throw your head back against the pillow. “I’ve thought about it too,” you admit, breathing hard. “How you’d touch me like this, how you’d feel inside me, please, so please just—I need you, Bucky.”

“You got me, baby,” he says and it sounds so fucking beautiful. “I’m right here. I got you, doll. Gonna take care of you, okay? Will you let me give you what you need?”

You answer by trying to press your hips up again, and Bucky shifts until his hands are cupping your ass and he drags you down the bed, closer to him, closer to his own hips where you can feel the bulge of his cock begging to be released.

“Your pants,” you remind him, wrapping your uninjured leg around the back of his thigh. “I want to feel you, please, Bucky.”

“Okay, doll,” he says, laying a kiss just above your panty line again, and then he’s pulling away and you whine despite it.

You listen as Bucky fiddles with his gear, going through the same motions as you had to go through earlier. The clink of his knives, the buckles of his holsters, the heavy soles of his boots as he throws them off. When you sit up, Bucky is standing in his black boxers, the faint light streaming into his room highlighting the shine of the scars that cover his body.

He looks as breathless, as flustered, as aroused as you feel. His hair is mussed from your hands, falling over his shoulder in the thick waves that feel so soft between your fingers. The lust is evident in the way his eyes roam over your body, his pupils blown wide, and then he’s moving toward you and fitting himself between your legs on the bed.

Bucky slides his hands over your heated skin yet again, a reminder of how much he wants you, how much he loves the feel of you, before his fingers hook inside your panties and begin to pull them down. Before he gets too far, he stops again, gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, lifting your hips as carefully as possible in order to keep from jostling your wound, and Bucky slips the last piece of clothing from your body. You hope, fucking christ you hope, he doesn’t realize how soaked they are when he peels them off, but maybe that’s a lost cause.

Because as soon as you’re naked, your glistening core bare to his eyes alone, all bets are off. There are no more barriers, nothing for you to hide behind, no sharp words to keep your feelings at bay.

His fingers skim over your lips, collecting all the honey you’ve made for him as his knees widen to spread your thighs. The simple movement has your hips rolling already in search of more, whimpers falling from your mouth as Bucky stares at your naked form beneath him. Eyes lidded, you watch as he brings his fingers, wet with your juices, up to his mouth.

“Shit, doll,” he curses. Bucky’s tongue envelops his digits and he groans at the taste, sending shocks like a fucking earthquake through your body, through your bones, straight to your core.

He moves closer to you, sliding your thighs onto his shoulder and locking his metal arm around the top of your hips, far enough away from your wound that it doesn’t hurt. Bucky peppers kisses along your inner thighs, biting and sucking in intervals that has you pressing your mound to him, begging for more.

“You taste so good,” he mumbles, breath ghosting over your quivering pussy, pulling a wanton whine from your throat. “Will you let me taste you, baby?”

“God, yes, please Bucky, please, I need it so bad.” The words are frantic, strangled, a mess of moans of breathless gasping.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

And then his mouth is on you, hot and slick upon hot and slick, his tongue parting the valley of your lips and delving into your dripping center like he’s a man starved and you’re the first meal he’s tasted in years. You keen in pleasure, thrashing your head against the pillows until your hair is a tangled mess as Bucky’s tongue flattens on your clit, licking a wide path until it’s well-traveled and your hips stutter, held back only by the cooled metal on your heated skin. Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tugging at his scalp, and the motion makes him groan into you.

You call his name like it’s the only word you know, chanting it over and over like it’s a spell similar to the one he’s weaving with his tongue upon your aching clit. He doesn’t let up, tracing words you can’t make out and drinking in all the wetness flooding his mouth. The gentle scratch of his wiry beard burns just right, contrasting with the curls of pleasure coming from your sensitive clit. Without realizing, you grind your core against Bucky’s mouth, the friction only serving to make you into a trembling mess, your insides throbbing with a need to be filled, pussy clenching around nothing.

As if he feels you, Bucky slides his free hand over your leg and to the apex of your thighs, the first thick finger entering you slowly, like he’s testing the waters. You cry out, begging for more, and Bucky relents. His second finger follows as his tongue continues to lap at your pussy, letting you gyrate against his face as you try to fuck yourself on his hand.

“Bucky,” you pant, each letter of his name a stutter with moans, “please!”

“Please what, babydoll?” His voice sends another wave of arousal through you, juices slicking his fingers up more than before. Your stomach is tightening, pleasure in tight curls between your legs, center so close to snapping that tears are beginning to leak from your eyes because Bucky won’t fucking let you move your hips in the way that you want. He chuckles against your pussy, breath teasing over you, vibrations making you quiver.

“I’m gonna—”

Bucky curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your spot, just as his mouth envelops your clit in its heat and he sucks, hard, and the thin thread coiling in your core snaps and you come apart, harder, and a scream tears itself from your throat as warm tears fall into your hairline.

He never stops. As his suckling turns into kitten licks upon your clit, his third finger breaches your opening and slips inside, pumping into you as you ride your orgasm out on his hand. Your hand is tight in his hair until it all becomes too much and it falls to cover your mouth, your teeth finding your knuckle to bite back the sound of your moans.

“Oh no, baby, no,” Bucky says, and when you look down, he’s between your legs, watching you in the aftershocks of your pleasure. His fingers leave your pussy and you clench around nothing, a whine leaving your lips at the emptiness, until Bucky’s metal fingers are pulling your hand away from your face.

“I gotta hear you,” he whispers, the hand covered in your nectar finding your mouth. “Need to hear all those pretty little noises you’re making, baby. I’ve dreamed about ‘em. Would get my cock all hard thinking about ‘em. You gotta keep making ‘em ‘cause now that I’ve heard ‘em, I can’t get enough, babydoll.”

When he moves to trace your bottom lip, red and swollen from his own, your tongue darts out to taste the salt and sin on the pad of his thumb. Bucky places his fingers at your parted lips and you suck them into your mouth, licking all the juice from his skin, tongue swirling around his digits. You wonder if his lips taste like this, too.

He groans as he watches you, his eyes lidded and hazy and lovely, and then his metal hand finds the waistband of his boxers and yanks them off his hips. In one perfect movement, his cock slaps against his stomach, hot and red and already leaking, which makes you flush at the fact that Bucky liked making you come.

Subconsciously, your tongue snakes out to lick your lips as you take in the length, the thickness of his cock, and Bucky gets that familiar look on his face—cocky, smirking, knowing that he’s pushing your limits. He presses you back down upon the bed, his arms bracketing your head as his nose brushes against yours, his heat pressing into the subtle dip where your hip and thigh meet.

The feeling of his cock, hard and heavy against your naked skin, sends you into a frenzy of arousal, of want, of need. You reach out and take him into your hand, your thumb brushing over the velvet head and smearing his precum along his length. Bucky’s jaw tightens, muscle twitching, as you pump your fist around him and drag your fingers along the blue vein riding up the underside. The groan that falls from his lips, the stutter and jerk of his hips, the way he shakes above you is addicting, and Bucky has to pull your wrist away from his cock in order to stop you from getting him off just like that.

“Baby,” he breathes, resting his sweaty forehead against yours.

“Bucky, please,” you beg again. “Please, I need you inside me.”

“You want me?” he asks, and even though his voice is scratchy and thick with desire, he says it like he’s surprised. As if you could never want him.

You’ve always wanted him.

“Yes, god, Bucky. I want you,” you moan, threading your fingers into his hair to smash your lips together in a sharp, bruising kiss. “I need you,” you say against his mouth. “I need you so, so bad.”

“I need you too, babydoll. Need to feel you,” he says, the sound strained, almost like he can’t stay away from you any longer. You feel it too, the ache without him, the way your pussy clenches in anticipation for him.

The head of Bucky’s cock nudges at your entrance and your slick coats him. The soft skin of him brushes your over-sensitive clit and you keen, and he does it again, and again, until you’re shaking, until you wrap your ankles around Bucky’s back and pull him into you, raising your hips to meet his.

“You want this?” His voice is heavy when he asks.

“Yes,” you moan out, rocking against him.

He says your name and it sounds pained on his tongue. “Are you sure?”

“James.” Your teeth snap and gnash on his name, and it awakens something within him that sets every place he touches you ablaze with a new sensation, and Bucky enters you with a slow thrust of his hips.

And it feels so fucking good.

Like straining a muscle you haven’t used in a while, it aches as he enters while you stretch to accommodate his size. The way his cock feels inside of you—touching you in places you never thought you’d be touched, filling you in a way you never thought you’d be filled.

He’s finally, finally yours. If just for this moment, Bucky Barnes is yours.

Your nails incise his back, making new marks among the sea of scarring he’s suffered, as you cling to his body in any way to feel him closer to you. Bucky leaves kisses on every surface of your face, your jawline, your neck. He kisses you everywhere and you wish you could tattoo the feeling into your skin.

“Are you alright?” he mumbles faintly into your neck and you can feel how hard he’s trying not to move, not to hurt you, to give you time to adjust to him. Your fingers trail up and down his spine, drifting into his hair, scratching against his scalp.

“Yes,” you hiss, undulating your hips and making a similar sound fall from his lips. “Bucky, please.”

You don’t know how many iterations of that same phrase you’ve said all night, but you’ll keep saying it, over and over, if he’ll take you like this. Just like this, with his arms trapping your body to the bed, his hips flush against yours, panting above you as he stares into your eyes all lustful and dark and wanting. He smells like the Bucky you’re so familiar with, your partner, Barnes, gunpowder and explosions and blood, with the clean scent of whatever deodorant he uses. If he’ll keep you like this, where you can pretend your his for this moment, you’ll say it over and over

Bucky, please—Bucky, please—Bucky, please—please—please—

When he finally moves, thrusting into your heat with a growl, it feels like time stops.

Bucky fucks you like he loves you, slow and steady, pumping into you fully and deeply until you lose your mind. He fucks you like he wants to ravage you, fast and quick and hard as he holds your hips to keep you steady, and you ignore the dull pain that flares up in your side because he’s fucking you like he needs you, like he can’t exist without you. He fucks you like he’ll never get another chance to touch you. When he fucks you like this, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, out of time, he rests his forehead against yours and you lean up to capture his mouth with yours, tongues sliding over one another sloppily.

The heat is building up inside of you again, and when Bucky lifts your hips and drapes you over his knees, pressing you up with his metal arm, his cock hits the spot inside you that makes you scream over and over. The waves are cresting. The crescendo is approaching. Every grunt and groan he makes mingles with your moans and shrieking pleasure, and it’s all going to culminate into one big moment, you can feel it.

Bucky pulls back to slip his hand between your bodies, sweaty and hot, and his thumb presses gently into your clit. With one sharp thrust, your body arches off the bed as you snap, screaming his name, and Bucky holds you through it.

Your vision goes black—you aren’t sure if it's because your eyes are screwed shut in pleasurable pain or if it's because you’ve passed out. Bucky’s hips jerk wildly into yours and you tighten the grip you have around his waist with your legs, digging your heels into the small of his strong back.

“So tight,” he hisses into your ear. “So fucking wet, baby. Feel so fucking right, made for me, aren’t you doll?”

“Yes, James,” you moan out as you ride the waves of your orgasm. “Made for you!”

Bucky works at your clit again as his rhythm starts to fail, and even with how sensitive you are, you feel the pleasure curling inside you again, hot inside your stomach. You clench and jolt whenever his cock hits the right angle, and all of a sudden, you’re on the edge yet again.

“I can’t,” you cry out, nearly a sob lost to the sound of his hips snapping against yours.

“You can,” he says, so gently. “You can, baby, just for me. You said so, right?”

How is he still talking? For fuck’s sake, your tongue feels like its detached from your mouth and all you can muster are the moans and whines that come from the back of your throat Bucky is forcing out of you.

“Come with me,” you beg, you plead. “Please James, please, come with me.”

“Baby—”

You break apart silently, clinging to his body, holding him to you as every fiber of your being is torn into pieces, shattered. As your pussy clenches and spasms around him, Bucky stutters in his thrusts and you pull him into you, willing him to fall over the edge with you, and he follows dutifully.

He groans out your name as he comes inside of you, liquid heat searing the deepest part of you. Falling back against the pillows, you whisper his name and drag him with you, mouth meeting his for one last clumsy, haphazard kiss. Bucky stills inside of you, still throbbing, and then he whispers something against your lips.

“I love you.”

You freeze, eyes wide, and Bucky pulls away from your embrace to look at you.

“What?” you ask, swallowing thickly. “What did you say?”

“I—” He looks nervous now, but his blue eyes are so fucking sincere. “I’m—I’m so sorry, fuck.”

Bucky moves to pull out of you, to leave, but you tighten your legs around his hips and trap him against you. The cocky smirk he wears, the confident smile, even the look of desire he wore while fucking you—it’s all gone. Left in its wake is the ashamed look Bucky wears that makes him seem small, and you want to smooth it away until he looks at you like he wants you again. Like he wants you to be his.

Like he loves you.

“Why are you sorry?” you ask him, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Because—fuck—this wasn’t supposed to happen.” He glances away from you and glares at the floor and a heartbreaking pain shoots through you. Now, he pulls out of you, shifting to get off the bed and clean up, but you can’t stop the words before they tumble out.

“You didn’t want me?”

“What?” Bucky turns and cups your face in his hand, searching your eyes for something, and his thumb wipes away a stray tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

Oh fuck, here it comes. He told you he loved you in a fit of passion and now you’re the stupid, clingy girl that he needs to leave behind. You’re partners, first and foremost, and you shouldn’t have forgotten that.

But god, he made you feel like you were his, and you wanted that so bad. You want it so fucking bad.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, voice shaking and you wonder if you mean it. “I know I’m stupid, and I know you hate me, and I know it was just sex—”

“Baby, no, please.” Bucky brings your face to his and kisses you softly, sweetly, like he adores you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry because someone like me shouldn’t love someone like you. God, I shouldn’t love someone as perfect as you. I can’t have you, doll. And I’m sorry.”

Oh. Bucky does love you.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

You surge up and slant your mouth over his, hand gripping the back of his neck to pull him down, fingers twining in the fine hairs where his scalp meets his skin. In this one kiss, you pour everything you think you can into it, everything you feel now, everything you’ve felt since you met him, everything you’ve ever felt at every moment you’ve shared with him.

“I love you,” you say when you pull away. “I love you so much, Bucky. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

His eyes are so wide, so afraid, so confused.

“You do?”

“I do,” you tell him. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long, Bucky Barnes, you stupid man.”

You expect him to kiss you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, Bucky cradles your head in his hand and pulls you to his chest, embracing you in his warm arms. He rolls onto the bed, carefully lifting you until you’re situated on top of him, where you wrap your limbs around him and lay upon his warm body. Bucky lays kisses on the crown of your hair, holding you so tightly against him you think you might suffocate.

“I’ve loved you since the day you kicked my ass, doll,” he admits. You laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” he says. “I hated that you would sacrifice yourself for others. I still hate it. It’s why you got hurt today and god, the threat of losing you, it scares me doll. I didn’t know what I would do if you died right there in my arms and I never got the chance to tell you all this.”

You glance up at him, at his beautiful face and his beautiful eyes, the man who you hated and who you wanted and who you love. God, you really do love him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you whisper, pressing an awkward kiss to his bare chest. “Now that I have you, I could never leave you.”

He laughs at that. “Babydoll, you’ve always had me. I can’t believe you never knew.”

You think back to all the times he’s looked at you, dopey grins and cocky smiles and coy glances. You think about how long you’ve leaned on each other in the two years you’ve been partners, how he’s the only person you’ve ever trusted with your life, how you always work to come back to him. You think about the butterflies that stirred in your stomach the first time you met him, when he shook your hand and gave you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen, the same smile he has plastered on his face right now as looks down at you.

Sitting up, you look at Bucky Barnes, chin resting in your palm lazily.

“Maybe I’ve always known,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe I did, too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic!#thanks for supporting me!#bucky barnes smut #smut fic #divine masterlist

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crackedoutwalnut · 3 years

Text

kiss my bruises better (Natasha x Wanda x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When Reader gets injured during a battle, it is up to her girlfriends Natasha and Wanda to mother hen her back to health.

Warnings: Violence and mentions of injuries in the beginning. Other than that just pure fluff.

A/N: Guess who got COVID and now has way too much free time??? :,)

It started with Fury sending you on an undercover mission alongside Natasha, Wanda, and Steve. Your objective was simple: obtain the dangerous alien artifact from the terrorist organization's lair and get your asses it back to Avenger's Tower. Nothing you and the rest had not dealt with before. However, there was one thing you four did not anticipate. There were hundreds of the organization's agents crawling around the base. Every corner they snuck around, there was another group of grunts patrolling. As a field scout, you were used to sneaking around; however, this was on another level. By the time Steve signaled for you to return to the meeting spot over the comms, you had already been spotted.

The group of half a dozen agents took one look at you before charging forward with their alien weaponry. One of them, a burly man in an all-black armored jumpsuit, hit a large button on a security panel near the ventilation shaft you had shimmied out from minutes prior. Being a scout, you were only equipped with the bare minimum of weapons a dagger, semi-lethal taser, and a small crossbow. In other words: not weapons one would use in a 1-versus-6 fight. Letting out a grunt of frustration as a loud alarm started to blare, you shouted a warning to Cap and your girlfriends' over the comms.

You leaped backward, away from a meaty fist that had just threatened to shatter your jaw into splinters. Flicking open the holster that held your taser, you slammed the muzzle of the taser gun into the side of the man's head and released the probes. The man convulsed, falling to the tile with a heavy thud. Another agent, a towering woman, let out a shout of outrage in a language you assumed to be Russian. She and the four other remaining against charged at you, weapons at the ready. You stumbled blindly backward, hoping to reach a staircase, window, elevator, anything. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side that day. Your back collided violently with the paneled wall behind you.

A curse that could make a sailor blush fell from your lips as you palmed around frantically for your dagger. The blue and black blade was an anniversary gift courtesy of Natasha, an odd gift to be sure; however, it was about as romantic as the assassin got. Grasping it firmly in your sweaty grip, you blindly swung at one of the grunts before you. The pommel collided with his nose in an upward arch, causing the man to fall to the ground, blood dripping from his now crooked nose. Apparently, the swing was hard enough for his nasal bone to fracture into his brain.

You took a step to sprint through the opening the dead man had cleared for you but, the burly woman seemed to beat you to the punch. She grabbed violently at your arm, twisting it at an odd angle behind your back. You slammed face-first into the wall behind you, causing your nose and lip to start leaking blood at an alarming pace. You groaned and squirmed, trying to free yourself from her iron fists.

"Stop struggling, bitch," she ordered, slamming your head against the solid paneling of the wall once more. Pain blossomed along the crown of your skull, and your vision started to blur in response. "Who sent you," she snarled against your ear.

You spat out the pool of blood that had collected in your mouth at another agent's feet, "Fuck you," you snarled, your voice muffled from being shoved against the wall.

The agent you had spat at raked the brass knuckles clenched on his fingers along your arm. Deep cuts spilled over with even more crimson. You let out a strangled scream as he twisted them further into the new cuts. The woman kneed her leg against your arm with a sickening pop. Your vision danced with black and white dots as pain shot through your body. You were about to scream when a loud bang sounded from behind the woman and her cronies. She let you go in shock, causing you to fall to the ground next to the dead agent. You moaned in pain, curling your now broken arm against your chest.

"Y/n!" A familiar voice shouted from the other end of the hall. It sounded fuzzy as if someone had shoved headphones over your ears. You gritted your teeth and forced your increasingly heavy head to look at the source of the noise. Through the dots dancing in your blurring vision, you were able to make out a furious Wanda, next to her an equally angry Natasha. You opened your mouth to reply when only a pained wheeze escaped. A boot was pressing against your back, applying pressure to your fractured forearm. You let out a scream of agony as tears spilled down your face. Before your consciousness gave way, you beheld Wanda exploding in a bright ball of scarlet towards you and the agents.

"...turn the TV down, you're going to wake her." You slowly came back to yourself at the sound of voices around you. Your mind was swimming in fuzzy warmth, a dull ache exploding in through your temples like a timpani. Despite the pain that seemed to radiate through every inch of your body, you were also strangely cozy. A soft warmth was wrapped around you like a cocoon, not to mention the pillow that seemed to meld with your head and abdomen. You hummed contently and nuzzled further into the cushion.

"Are you sure she's okay?" A concerned voice rang from directly above you. The voice was warm and familiar, like a well-worn sweater. "She's been knocked out for almost four hours. Plus, my legs are starting to go numb."

An amused huff sounded from behind you, "Banner said the painkillers would make her drowsy."

"Yeah, but... four hours? What if something is wrong with her?"

"You know Y/n, she does things on her own terms. She will only wake up when it suits her." Both the voices laughed at that remark. You fought the urge to huff in protest; you weren't that stubborn. The pillow beneath you shook with the light laughter and shifted. You furrowed your brows; cushions didn't usually chuckle. You grumbled at the disturbance and cracked your eyes open. Your so-called pillow had caramel red hair and a black Def Leppard t-shirt.

"Wanda?" you mumbled drowsily. You lifted your head slowly from the place it was resting against her chest. Your face flushed slightly at the thought of using her breasts as a pillow for so long.

She smiled warmly and lifted an arm that had been resting protectively along your back to stroke your hair. Her other hand had been tracing circles along your side for the past few minutes. "Good afternoon, sleeping beauty."

"Where are we?" You attempted to look around; however, your head exploded with pain at the effort. Wanda seemed to notice your wince because she carefully guided your head to lay against her chest once more.

"We are back at the tower. You slept the entire flight home," Natasha, who must be on the other side of the couch, replied.

You groaned, "Everything hurts."

"Being jumped by a group of terrorist agents will do that to you," the assassin replied sarcastically. You kicked lightly at the girl, your foot nudging her thigh. She laughed snarkily and shoved lightly at your foot.

"Nat, stop teasing her," Wanda chided playfully, threading her fingers through your hair. You practically purred at the attention, nuzzling your face against her. She pressed a soft kiss to your aching temple in response.

"Why am I getting lectured?" Natasha protested in mock indignation.

"Because you are not the one hopped up on painkillers."

"But I am the one who detained the agent that had broken her arm. Surely that deserves some credit."

Your eyes shot open once more at the mention of the mission, "Shit, the terrorists. What happened to them? Is everyone okay?" You jolted up, attempting to sit up fully. Natasha was at your side in an instant, hand resting on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We're fine; we handled them," she soothed, rubbing your back gently. "Everyone's safe, I promise."

You relaxed slightly, "And the artifact?" the hesitance was evident in your voice.

Natasha sighed kissed your cheek in reassurance, "We were not able to save you and obtain the alien artifact. They were on high alert at that point, and it was too risky."

You pursed your lips, shoulders drooping in shame. They had failed because of you. Dangerous technology continued to threaten the world because you were unable to do your job.

Wanda must have read your mind because she pulled you closer to her and placed a kiss on top of your head. "Hey, this isn't your fault. None of us knew that the compound would be so well protected."

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. Your right arm, the one the woman broke, was wrapped in a thick plaster cast the color of a hospital gown. Your other arm was dressed in a thick layer of bandages, covering the jagged cuts left by the bronze knuckles.

"Honey, there was no way we could have known," Wanda murmured, using a finger to lift your chin. "If anything, it's our fault for not being there in time. If something were to happen to you, I don't know what I would do." She placed a protective arm around your back as if she was shielding you from an invisible threat.

"You did very well defending her," Natasha soothed, kissing Wanda's cheek. She turned to you with a smirk, "You should have seen her; I thought she was going to send the whole building crashing down with how angry she was."

You smiled, "I'm sure you two did great, as always."

"She's right though, this wasn't your fault, nor was it a significant loss. Rogers is already with Stark and Banner at the location of the artifact. They plan on regrouping back here before following through with the next phase of the plan."

You sighed in relief, "That's good. So when do we go through with the next step?"

Wanda scrunched her nose and smiled, "It's adorable that you think you are going to be anywhere near the next phase of the plan."

"You can't be serious. I'm perfectly fine!" You insisted. Natasha raised her brow and pressed a finger against the bandages on your left arm. You winced and let out a quiet yelp before batting her hand away. "Okay, I may be a bit injured, but other than that, I'm okay to fight."

"Y/n, you have a minor concussion, a broken arm, and a broken nose," Wanda pointed out, her accent thick with concern.

"Nothing I hadn't had before," you shrugged.

"Y/n don't start," Natasha warned, standing from her place at your side. She strode out of your line of view.

"Where are you going?" You whined, not wanting her to leave.

"I'm just getting you water, Babe. Don't worry, I will be right back." You nodded, settling back against your other girlfriend. Wanda reached over you to pull the blankets further up your body. You hummed contently and sighed against her chest. Wanda was always warm; her skin seemed to radiate a cozy heat that filled you with a sense of peace. Her protective arms were coiled firmly around your waist.

"How are you doing, Honey?" Wanda asked, nuzzling against the top of your head.

"Tired," you complained, hiding your face away in the crook of her neck.

"I think I should talk to Bruce before allowing him to hop my girlfriend up on painkillers. He gave you a pretty high dose." Wanda tilted her head so that her cheek was resting against your hair. Her hair had a lingering smell of citrus and lavender that set off the butterflies in your stomach. You hummed and inhaled once more. Wanda chuckled, her smirk evident in her voice, "Are you smelling my hair?"

You paused, "...No."

The witch's shoulders shook with laughter, jostling you slightly. "You know I can read minds, right? I know you're lying."

You huffed and burrowed your face further into her neck, "Asshole."

She kissed the top of your head, "Love you too."

"I'm back," Natasha announced, striding towards the couch.

You turned away from Wanda's neck so that your back was against her front. The assassin sat down on the coffee table next to you, holding a glass of water. You licked your chapped lips and reached out to take the drink. Natasha raised a brow and pulled the cup further away from you. A frown formed on your lips, realizing what she wanted. "Oh, come on, Nat. I don't need help drinking water," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha tsked, "I'm not risking it, you may still be a bit sluggish from the meds, and I don't want you spilling all over yourself and Wanda," She tucked a strand of hair from your forehead. "Come on, Baby. Let us take care of you."

Biting your lip, you nodded exasperatedly, "Fine." Natasha carefully placed the lip of the glass near your mouth and tipped a bit of water out. This went on until only a quarter of the glass was left. You had not realized how thirsty you were until you saw the glass of water. "Thank you," your eyelids drooped, feeling tired once more.

"You should rest some more," Wanda murmured.

"But, I just woke up," you argued, words slurred with sleep.

"And if you ever want to go on another mission again, you will take the time to rest and recover," Natasha insisted, tucking the blanket around your body. She settled at your feet, pulling them into her lap. You opened your mouth to argue; however, Wanda had started stroking your hair once more. The words were lost in your throat as your eyes slipped shut. The warmth from both your girlfriend and the blanket seemed to wash over you in waves. The last thing you felt was a soft hand tracing patterns along your arm.

#wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #avengers x reader #wlw #lgbtq

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

caught in the nets (spencer reid/reader)

Title: caught in the nets

Requested: no

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut, fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, public sex (public bathroom), fingering, handjob, grinding, groping, heavy petting, fucking with fishnets on, tipsy sex, possessive), hand on jaw/neck (no pressure), swearing, drinking, mentions of a gun, mentions of casework, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3,944

Summary: Spencer loves what reader is wearing while out at a bar with the team

A/N: hi guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Here’s another thing i wrote. this is another thing I was super excited to write. AND I wrote it for one of my bestest friends @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for pom’s server fic swap. I wrote it in literally two days bc I had a week to write it. But it does have a prompt and a few other things she likes in it! also quick shout out to @newportonmymind for proofreading this!! i really appreciate you! I really hope you guys enjoy this piece! Thank you all so much for the love and support! I appreciate it and you! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Rough cases will always be the worst. Sometimes they felt hopeless, like we weren’t able to figure out how to save a victim. In the end we were able to save the victim and arrest the unsub. But it was still rough.

So drinks were a must when it came to the end of rough cases. I know it’s a bad thing to turn to drinking in a rough time. But sometimes nothing helped more than a drink. It was easier to relax with a little liquor in your system. Well, it was easier for me to relax with a little liquor. I couldn’t say about the rest of the team.

I was the one who offered up the idea of going to a bar when we returned home. I just needed a little something to help me unwind. Luke, Penelope and Tara were the next to say they’d be coming. After some light convincing, Emily, JJ, and Matt agreed. David was quick to leave before we could get to him about it.

Which left Spencer. At first he put up a fight, arguing that he had to go home. Home to what? We have the same situation. Eventually Penelope wore him down and got him to go.

“Okay, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to change out of these clothes.” I looked down at the business attire I had worn on the plane. I really wished I had changed out of them too, and into something more comfortable.

“Sounds good, Sweetness! See you in a bit.” Penelope looked at me with a smile. I returned the smile before collecting my things from my desk, and leaving.

Part of me wanted to wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants. But I also wanted to wear jeans and a tee-shirt, just to be comfortable. I also wanted to wear something more… party like. Mostly because we’re going to a bar, where there were going to be lots of people. Mmm…

I went with the latter. My outfit ended up consisting of a plain black top, paired with short-shorts and a “comfortable” pair of heels. Under the shorts I wore one of my favorite clothing items, a pair of black fishnets. They were one of my favorite things because I always gained the attention of someone. And I usually enjoyed that attention. I just don’t know whose attention I wanted.

Once I was satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my bag and left for the bar. I was the first to leave the BAU, but the last to show up to the bar. Even Spencer was there before me, which was a rarity.

“Hey sorry I’m late. Traffic was nuts… And I just wanted to look nice,” I laughed nervously as I looked down before sitting beside Penelope. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I tried to avoid the feeling of the stares. At first I tried to not be self-conscious, after all I was the one who wanted to dress a little more… sexy and get the attention of others.

“What are you wearing?” Luke asked after he took a sip of his beer. I looked down at my attire and shrugged.

“Wanted someone’s attention. Figured I’d get it here.” I gestured around the room towards the many groups of people. “Already got yours, Lukey-poo,” I cooed as I looked at him. He looked back at me with a weird look in his eyes. “Where’s Spence?”

“He went to get a drink.” JJ nodded towards the bar before sipping her drink. I looked over my shoulder and towards the bar. My eyes quickly identified the lanky and awkward body of Spencer standing beside the bar as he waited for a drink.

“Has the bartender been flirting with him the whole time?” I looked back at the team with wide eyes. Tara looked over at JJ with a smug smile before nodding. “No ones gonna save him?” “Figured we’d give him a try first.” Matt shrugged as he looked back at me. I let out a mildly annoyed sigh before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Emily asked as she looked at me. I smiled as her eyes very slowly lingered down my body. There was an obvious struggle, and I liked that. I was definitely getting the attention I craved tonight. Even though it’s from my superior.

“Gonna go save boy wonder from inevitable embarrassment that he will probably succumb to.” I rested my hand on the table as I looked at the team. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance. “And I’m getting myself a drink.” I shrugged before shoving my hands in my small pockets and walked towards the bar and Spencer.

“Hey Spence!” I exclaimed as I looked at him. He looked away from the bartender and smiled. His smile, however, quickly melted away and a hungry look took over his eyes.

“H-hey,” he mumbled before looking back at the bartender. She looked between me and Spencer before muttering a few profanities and walking away. I smirked before taking the space up beside Spencer.

“You seeing something you like, Reid?” I asked as soon as I noticed him staring at me again. I leaned over the bar beside him and smiled.

“I.. Uh, I…” He cleared his throat before looking away from me and down at the counter. Well, maybe I did know whose attention I wanted…

“Anyways, I’ve come to save you.”

“Save me?”

“The bartender…” I whispered before nodding in her direction. Spencer looked down at her and we both caught her looking between us before dropping her gaze.

“The bartender?”

“Just get your drink and come on,” I laughed before standing up and away from the counter. Spencer looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. He was obviously confused as to what I was talking about. But I’ll honestly save him the embarrassment. “Oh, wait. I want a drink too!” I exclaimed as I leaned over the counter.

Once we both had our drinks, I silently led him back to the table. I enjoyed the feeling of people’s eyes on me as I walked by them. I could even sense Spencer staring at me. To be fair, my shorts were a little on the shorter side…

Maybe the attention I was getting was from the person I wanted it from the most…

Spencer and I returned to the table, and we were quick to join into whatever conversation they were having. The entertaining stories that Matt told about his kids made everyone go into a fit of laughter.

The laughter only grew the more drinks that everyone had consumed. We weren’t exactly drunk, well some of us weren’t drunk. But when someone in the bar orders a round of drinks for the table, it’s hard to say no.

JJ, Spencer and Matt were the only ‘mostly sober’ ones. Followed by Tara and me being tipsy, but sober enough to know what was happening. Penelope, Luke and Emily had enough to drink and had left the table to go dance with each other and random people in the bar.

“I wanna dance,” I muttered as I looked down at the table. Matt cleared his throat, causing me to look up at him. He was nodding a Spencer, who was looking around the room at all the other people. A small smile grew across my lips before I jumped from my seat. Spencer and JJ both looked at me with shock on their faces.

I looked right at Spencer and smiled. “You.” I pointed at him. “Me.” Then I pointed at myself. “We’re dancing,” I spoke as I jerked my thumb behind me. Spencer’s face fell slightly as he watched me walk to stand in front of him. I smiled as his eyes lingered on my body for a brief moment before landing on my face. “Come on. Let’s leave mom and dad alone.” I lifted a hand for him to take. He looked at it for a moment before hesitantly placing his hand into mine.

Once he stood, I dragged him over to the dance floor, where we both stood still. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I wished I did. His body wasn’t tense, in fact I could tell he liked that I was being daring and the close proximity I was in.

We, and by we I mean me, hardly danced. It was mostly just me. And my dance moves consisted of me grinding on him. Which seemed to rile him up enough to entertain me. I enjoyed it more when he rested his hands on my hips and held me in front of him.

I looked around the room at all the people, watching as they continued dancing with their friends and people. Then I looked back at Spencer before grabbing his hand. His once hazel eyes were blown out black and a look of hunger and lust was settled in them. He looked like he knew what he wanted, and he was about to do anything in his power to get it too.

I looked away from him and around the room, again, looking for a familiar face. It wasn’t that I needed someone to save me from this moment. No. I needed to make sure none of our friends saw what I was about to do next.

I turned to face Spencer again and pressed my chest to his. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled them flush against his. The breath was knocked from my lungs when I felt how hard he was through his slacks and my shorts.

I grabbed his wrist and turned away from him before dragging him out of the bar and towards the bathrooms. He didn’t say anything when I pulled him into the women’s bathroom and into a stall. I’ll forever be grateful for that too because I don’t know where else we would go to.

I pulled him into a stall and locked it before pushing him against the door. His lips quickly attached to mine, and before I knew it his teeth grazed across my lower lip. And just like before, when we were out in the bar, his hands fell back to my hips and he pulled me against him. He rolled his hips to mine, pressing his bulge into my body.

“I can’t believe you,” Spencer groaned against my mouth. I looked up at him and smirked. “Why’s that? What makes me so unbelievable?” I whispered as I pressed a hand to his front. Spencer’s body froze and a hiss came from his lips.

“You coming to this bar, dressed like that, acting like you own the place,” his voice was low as he spoke. I smiled before I looked for his belt. “Acting like you aren’t arousing every man-- and woman-- here. That’s right, I saw the way Emily looked at you,” he continued as he looked at me.

“I just wanted attention from someone. But I’m sure happy that it’s your attention that I’m getting, Spencer,” I whispered before I pressed my hips against his.

“Well… I don’t think you’ll be getting attention from anyone else other than mine from now on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re mine now, Sweetness,” he mildly mocked the pet name Penelope had given me earlier today. I stared at him, my breathing growing shallow. “And no one else’s.” Goosebumps grew like fire across my skin once I realized the honesty and reality of his words. Or, well, I should say his possessiveness. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted or believed what he said, but a moment passed and I realized… I wanted it so bad.

We both fell into a silent stare down. My hands, however, kept busy as they looked for his belt. But then a smirk grew across my lips the second I realized he still had a hard on waiting for me.

I was quick as I tried undoing his belt buckle, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he obviously did when I began struggling and fumbling for a moment.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me, Reid?” I whispered as I carefully slipped my hand into his pants and briefs. My question was otherwise rhetorical. I knew for a fact it was a gun. But I also knew it wasn’t a gun.

Spencer took a deep breath of air once my hand was wrapped around his length. I smiled as I slowly moved my hand back and forth, gently applying pressure.

“It’s a gun,” Spencer returned, keeping his voice low, “But I’m more than happy to see you. Trust me.” I could tell he was trying to be sly with his words. Because when he started talking his voice was deep and a little rough, but as he continued on talking, they got a little shaky and a little bit higher. I wanted to mock him, but I knew better than to do that.

“Oh… I do,” I whispered as I quickened my pace. My lips were hovering over his. His breath fanned across my face, and I could just barely smell the gin and tonic he had drank earlier.

My heart was beating hard in my chest because I was about to fuck my co-worker in the bathroom at fucking bar. I wondered if his was doing the same thing. I wondered if his thought process was the same as mine too.

I also wondered if he felt the same way. Maybe I’ve always wanted the attention from Spencer. He was right there, and always has been, and always will be. Plus we’ve known each other for years. So what’s the harm? Maybe he felt the same?

The grip Spencer held on my hips started to tighten as I continued to stroke his length. I could feel his tension growing the longer I went. My lips slowly curled at the corners as I realized how much I was going to enjoy this.

Then it happened. Spencer flipped our positions so I was pressed against the door. Both of my wrists were in one of his hands, held above my head. His other hand was already messing with the button of my shorts.

“You think you’re the only one who can do that, Sweetness,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my neck. It was his turn to grind his hips against mine, easily taking my breath away again.

“Spence…” I gasped once his hand was finally down the front of my shorts. I tried hard to pull my hands from his hand, but his grip only tightened.

“See, two can play at this game,” he spoke softly as he swiped a finger up my slit. I bit my lips together as he gently moved his finger around the sensitive nub between my thighs. “But unlike you I’m going to let you finish.”

“I was go-oh…” I whimpered as my knees buckled down causing my hips to grind on his hand. He smiled before carefully pushing a finger into my entrance. It was suddenly hard to concentrate as he curled his fingers just right.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer murmured against my ear before moving his mouth to the corner of my mouth, then to my neck. A small moan fell from my mouth as he sucked a spot onto the base of my neck.

I stayed silent as Spencer continued whispering dirty things in my ear. Part of me almost forgot who I was with. Not because of what was happening, but because of what he was saying. I had no clue Spencer could say such dirty things. My train of thought was all over the place, derailing the moment I would gain a coherent thought.

Once I did eventually finish on his fingers, he pulled his hand from my shorts and looked down at me. It was a silent moment of a stare down. I was quiet because I was sure of what was about to happen. I was about to fuck Spencer Reid. I was willing to bet Spencer was calculating how long the events of everything would take. I didn’t care, I just wanted it and I wanted it now.

I broke the stare down, looking down at his slacks and the bulge that was still pressing against the fabric. I silently undid the button and zipper and pushed his pants down.

Spencer stopped me before I could do anything else. I looked up at him, my eyes staying on his face as he pushed down my shorts. Then it happened. I was expecting sex to happen like normal. Half naked.

I furrowed my eyebrows when he started getting ready. My tights were still on me properly. He didn’t forget. Man has the best mind in the world. He wouldn’t forget about my tights.

“Wait,” I whispered as I went to pull my tights off, but Spencer stopped me. His hand wrapped around my wrist before he pulled it away. “I gotta take my tights off if we-Oh…”I looked up at him with wide eyes once I realized what he wanted.

“Keep them on,” he whispered so softly I almost didn’t hear him. I nodded lightly. Truth be told, I could see the appeal in it. I did wear the fishnets for a reason. And I knew how I looked in them.

“I can do that.”

Spencer hoisted one of my legs around his waist and pressed my body against the wall. I stared at him, my arms wrapped around his neck to keep me up right. He also helped keep me up by keeping his hands on my hips. Once I was steady, Spencer ripped a hole in the crotch of my tights.

My teeth bit down on my lower lip as he dragged the head of his cock down my pussy. I almost couldn’t handle the way he teased my entrance. I wondered if he could see how frustrated I was starting to get. He’s a profiler. He should just know already how much I needed this.

“I swear to-” ‘God, Spencer.’ My words were cut off with a moan as he pressed into me all at once. It was hard to keep my head up right, and I fought for a moment before finally dropping it to rest on his shoulder. I brought my hand to my mouth and bit down.

Spencer moved a hand around to rest on my bottom. My mouth fell as his hand began massaging my flesh. That, paired with the way he began moving his hips started becoming too much for me.

He looked down at me, sweat beginning to mat down his hair to his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he picked up his pace. My leg around his waist pulled him closer to me.

“Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop,” I whined as he finally moved closer to me. My body began moving up and down the door. The cloth of my tank top had started riding up, and my hot skin was instantly touching the cool steel door.

Spencer lifted a hand to my head, placing it on the backside before pulling my face to his. His lips pressed everywhere on my face, not one spot was ignored. I pulled my hands away from his neck and grasped his shirt and tie, keeping him in his spot.

“You could’ve worn anything and I still would have wanted to fuck you. Sweatpants and oversized tee-shirt, that pencil skirt you wore back in Oklahoma… But the fishnets really do take the cake.”

“I-I knew someone would like them.” I tried to keep my voice steady. But it was so hard when pressure began growing in my stomach and between my legs.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? You here, looking like this,” his voice was almost a growl. My chest began heaving with each word he said and each movement he made. “Too damn long, that’s how long.”

Spencer removed his hand from the back of my head and dropped it to between my legs, resting it high on my thigh. His thumb moved back and forth on my leg, over the material of the fishnets. The look in his eyes drove me wild, and I loved it so, so much.

“Better me than anyone else. I’m not willing to share.” Spencer actually growled as he moved his finger to the crest of my legs. He smiled when I looked up at him with a mildly panicked look in my eyes. “Do you understand why, Sweetness?”

“N-no.”

“As I told you earlier, you’re mine,” he struggled as he tried to hold back a moan.

“Fuck,” I cried as my head dropped back down to his shoulder. I pressed a hand to the wall beside me. I gasped for air as the pressure in my stomach grew to the point of exploding.

“Only I can make you feel like this. You got that, Sweetness?” Spencer groaned, which quickly caused me to nod.

It was impossible to stay quiet as the pressure built up more. The situation was pushed more as soon as Spencer started moaning more into my ear. It was so overwhelming the second he said my name.

And then it happened. I finished before him. But it wasn’t too long after that a familiar warmth spread throughout me.

Spencer dropped his head to my shoulder, and we were both left in panting, breathless messes. My eyes were stuck open as I tried recollecting myself.

“I waited a long time for that too, Spencer,” I whispered, breaking the silence after a few minutes passed. He laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Of course you do.” I shook my head and pushed his body off mine. He looked down at me with a smirk. “What… What does this mean?”

“Could mean anything. We let things happen naturally, or we pretend nothing happened at all. I’d prefer the former, if I’m going to be honest with you.” He gently lifted a hand and rested it on my face. My nose twitched as soon as I felt something rolling down my thigh. Then my eyes widened.

“N-naturally… Yeah,” I whispered, mostly to myself, as I reached for a wad of toilet paper. I quickly cleaned up the mess that was between my legs and shook my head.

“We should go. Get you properly cleaned.” Spencer spoke up once I was done cleaning myself a bit.

“Well now we gotta go out there and pretend like nothing happened,” I whispered as I looked up at him. Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “Where did this sudden cockines come from?”

“When I realized you could have any guy in the bar… And you chose me.” He smiled before wrapping an arm around my waist. I widened my eyes as we exited the bathroom and entered the crowd of people together. People stared at us as we walked by, but I couldn’t tell if it was both of us they were staring at or just me. Spencer’s grip around my waist tightened as he pulled me closer to him. “Remember, Sweetness… I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” his voice was low. My body stiffened once the reality of his words hit me. His.

“Where were you guys?” Emily looked between Spencer and I. I looked at her with wide eyes, my expression telling her (and the rest of the team) everything they needed to know. I’m sure I looked like a hot fucking mess.

“Sweetness here was outside not feeling too well. So I brought her to the bathroom and helped her out a little bit,” Spencer lied with a smile.

Even he knew the lie was useless. But I think everyone would rather believe the obvious lie than rather just know the truth. To be fair, I’d rather tell them all a useless lie rather than the truth. “She still doesn’t feel too well. So I’m going to take her home.”

“Oh! Bummer! I hope you feel better!” Penelope was the first to speak up. I was thankful too that she played along because I really couldn’t handle that embarrassment…

“I will.. Hopefully by morning… I’ve got the best doctor I know taking care of me.” I smiled softly as I looked up at Spencer. He glanced back at me with a smile.

“Have a nice rest of the night.” Spencer nodded to the team before guiding me away from the table and towards the front doors.

“My place or yours?” I looked back at him once we were finally outside and walking towards his car.

“Mine.”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic @90spumkin @jareids @broken-stardust

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