#SO THIS'LL BE MY FIRST TIME WATCHING IT

[addicted-to-the-knife]

today is the DAY <3 Saw X time, babyyy!!!

since Germany decided that Saw X was gonna release on November 30, I had to wait a little too long for my sanity's sake to watch it. but, no more! this evening is finally Saw X tiiimeee~ <3

[your-local-narc71]

No matter what, I am going to own Sonic The Hedgehog 1, 2 & 3 DVDs.

[arielluva]

went to look up some of the changes between the original broadcast and the remaster and now im excited to finish this rewatch on the dvds i got... ooh dvds from 1999 and 2002........ this is gonna be a slightly different experience which i hope will be interesting

[tesl8n]

Ordered all 8 volumes of the Bloom Into You manga from my local bookstore and most of the back half was on backorder. So I was like "Yeah, just call me as they come in, it'll force me to pace myself as I read instead of binging them all" assuming that I'd get 1/2 first.

Just picked up 8, 7, 5, and 3 lmao >.<

[mcrdvcks]

— sex concept

summary: You and Matt have wanted to take things to the next level, but every time you try to get intimate, something, or someone, interrupts.

word count: 4.1k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: at this point, i think i need to make a series masterlist for these two, lol. here's the third installment - and here are the first two: goodnight n go and love language

also, sex concept is one of my favorite songs, and it's by sofia isella. i recommend you go check her out!

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, making out, peter parker, mention of other marvel characters, matt's a little shit, smut, oral (f!receiving), brief handjob, unprotected piv, creampie

matt murdock masterlist

It wasn’t like you and Matt hadn’t been alone since you started dating. But somehow, every single attempt at finally taking things further kept getting inconveniently interrupted.

Like now, for instance.

Matt’s lips skimmed along your neck, his fingers tracing patterns along your waist. You sighed softly, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Matty," you whispered.

He hummed against your skin, nudging your jaw with his nose. "Yeah?"

"Can we—"

Your sentence was abruptly cut short by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Matt paused, a quiet groan muffled against your collarbone. "Ignore it."

You hesitated. "But what if—"

"It’s probably nothing," he murmured, lips brushing your pulse. "Leave it."

It kept ringing. You sighed, gently pushing at his shoulders. "It’ll only take a second. Just let me silence it."

Matt exhaled sharply, moving back slightly as you reached over and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Glancing at the screen, you rolled your eyes.

"Work," you muttered, annoyed. You answered quickly. "This better be an emergency."

"Y/N," Levi’s voice crackled through the line, anxious. "I’m so sorry—"

"What happened?"

"Uh... you know how we were testing the new phase-array sensors tonight?"

"Levi."

"Well, it shorted. Everything’s offline. And the readings are… weird."

You groaned softly, pressing your fingers to your forehead. "I’ll be there in half an hour." You hung up, sighing again as you tossed your phone onto the bed.

Matt shifted beside you. "You’re leaving?"

"I’m sorry," you muttered. "It’s—"

"Work," Matt finished gently. He tilted his head, clearly amused. "You know, I think Stark Industries has a personal vendetta against us."

You huffed, tugging your shirt back into place. "I’ll make it up to you. I promise."

Matt leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours quickly. "You better."

You rolled your eyes, reluctantly climbing off the bed. "Don't move. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Matt fell back onto the pillows with a sigh, his smirk unmistakable. "I'll hold you to that, angel."

---

A few days later, Matt had just managed to maneuver you against the kitchen counter, lips claiming yours fiercely. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Then, abruptly, a loud knock at his apartment door broke the silence. Matt froze, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder with a frustrated exhale.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered.

"Ignore it," he whispered, kissing your neck gently.

The knocking grew louder.

"Murdock!" Foggy's muffled voice echoed through the wood. "Come on, man, open up! I know you're home!"

Matt sighed heavily, pulling away. "He'll keep going until I answer."

You slumped against the counter dramatically. "I swear he has a sixth sense."

Matt smiled apologetically. "This'll be quick."

You folded your arms, watching as Matt made his way to the door, cracking it open just enough to speak. "Foggy. Bad timing."

"Yeah, sorry, I lost the deposition file," Foggy admitted sheepishly. "I need your copy."

Matt sighed, turning his head toward you slightly. "Give me a minute."

You threw your hands up, shooting him a pointed glare. Matt smiled, mouthing sorry before slipping out the door.

---

It had almost become a joke at this point. Every single time the two of you finally got a moment alone, something managed to interrupt.

You and Karen were at Josie’s, waiting for Matt and Foggy to arrive.

“Wanna tell me why you seem so pent up?” Karen asked, taking a drink of her beer.

You sighed, swirling your drink in the glass. "Because apparently, the universe hates me."

Karen raised a brow, amused. "That's dramatic, even for you."

"No, I'm serious," you insisted, leaning closer. "Every single time Matt and I are about to—" You paused, realizing you'd almost said too much. "Spend any sort of actual alone time together, something always interrupts."

Karen smirked knowingly, taking another sip. "Oh. That kind of pent up."

You glared at her. "Shut up."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Sorry, it's just funny. You two spend practically all your time together. I'm surprised you even have that problem."

"Yeah, well, apparently work, Foggy, and fate itself have formed an alliance against us," you muttered bitterly.

"Have you tried just… telling people not to bother you?" Karen teased.

You scoffed. "We tried that. Believe me, it doesn't work."

Karen hummed sympathetically. "Well, if it's any consolation, I promise to never intentionally interrupt your... alone time."

"Thanks," you replied dryly, "that’s very generous."

She grinned. "Hey, I do what I can."

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Foggy walked in, Matt close behind him. You caught Matt’s slight smile as he tilted his head toward you, making his way through the crowd.

Karen nudged you playfully. "Better luck tonight?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop a small smile. "I doubt it, but thanks for the optimism."

Matt stepped up beside you, his hand automatically finding your waist. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Sorry we're late."

You sighed dramatically. "Don't worry about it. At this point, I'm used to it."

Matt chuckled softly, squeezing your side. "Tonight'll be different. Promise."

Karen snorted into her drink. "Good luck with that."

You glared at her again, and she raised her hands innocently.

Matt's brow furrowed, sensing the tension. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all," Karen said, grinning widely. "Y/N was just filling me in on your streak of bad luck."

Matt’s lips quirked upward. "Oh. That."

Foggy looked between the three of you, utterly lost. "Am I missing something here?"

You shook your head, patting Foggy on the shoulder. "Trust me, Fog. You're better off not knowing."

---

Matt’s apartment was quiet when you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. The blinds were drawn shut, the place cloaked in comfortable darkness. You dropped your keys onto the entry table, taking off your jacket and hanging it beside Matt’s familiar black coat.

"Matty?" you called softly, stepping further into the apartment.

"Bedroom," came his muffled reply.

You kicked off your shoes, padding down the hall until you reached his room. Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a clean shirt. He looked relaxed, freshly showered, hair still damp and slightly messy. He tilted his head in your direction, lips curving into a gentle smile.

"Hey," he said softly.

You smiled, stepping toward him. "Hi."

Matt reached for you, fingers easily catching your wrist and tugging you closer, his hands settling comfortably at your hips. "How was work?"

You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "The usual Stark chaos. Nothing new."

His lips twitched. "So no interruptions planned tonight?"

You laughed quietly, your fingers trailing down the side of his face. "Not that I know of. Unless Foggy’s about to burst through the door."

Matt smiled, tilting his head slightly into your palm. "Not tonight. He and Karen have dinner plans."

"Thank God," you muttered.

Matt chuckled softly, pulling you gently closer so you were standing between his legs. His thumbs brushed lightly against your sides. "You hungry?"

You shook your head slightly, leaning down until your forehead rested against his. "Not really."

"Good," Matt whispered, voice low and warm. "Me either."

You smiled softly, tracing your fingertips over the curve of his jaw. His hands slid beneath your shirt, settling warmly against your lower back. You inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he guided your lips down to his own.

The kiss was gentle at first, soft and unhurried. Matt’s lips brushed yours slowly, carefully, as if savoring every moment. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pressing closer.

Matt sighed against your lips, deepening the kiss. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, guiding you down until you settled comfortably across his lap. Your arms looped around his shoulders, your bodies pressed close enough that you could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"Matt," you whispered breathlessly against his lips, smiling faintly. "If my phone rings, I swear—"

Matt’s quiet laughter cut you off, his mouth skimming along your jaw. "I’ll throw it out the window myself."

You huffed softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. "Promises, promises, Murdock."

Matt smirked against your skin, his voice low and teasing. "Careful, sweetheart. I might hold you to that."

You laughed quietly, tangling your fingers in his hair again and pulling him back to your lips. For the first time in weeks, there were no interruptions—just you, Matt, and the steady, comforting quiet of his apartment.

But, of course, it could never be that easy.

A knock rattled on a window in the living room.

Matt froze, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me."

You groaned, your fingers tangling into his hair. "I swear, this is a cosmic joke at this point."

The knocking grew louder, quicker, more urgent. Matt sighed, lifting his head reluctantly. "Who even—"

A muffled voice called from outside, high-pitched and apologetic. "Uh... Mister Murdock? It’s—it's me, Peter. Spider-Man? Sorry, I just—I kinda need help."

You raised a brow. "Spider-Man knocks now?"

Matt sighed deeply. "Apparently."

You stood up from Matt’s lap, fixing your shirt as Matt slowly stood beside you, annoyance radiating off him.

Peter tapped again, more sheepishly this time. "Hello? Uh—Matt?"

"Coming," Matt called, moving toward the window with a heavy sigh.

You followed behind, crossing your arms as Matt slid the window open. Peter awkwardly crawled inside, tugging off his mask with a nervous grimace.

"Hey, Mr. Murdock," he mumbled, turning to you. "Hey, Y/N. Sorry if this is a bad time, but—"

"Is the city actively on fire?" Matt cut in, voice flat.

Peter hesitated. "Well, no, but—"

"Is anyone dying?" Matt continued.

Peter shifted nervously. "No, but I—"

Matt folded his arms, visibly unimpressed. "Is Stark Tower currently collapsing into a giant sinkhole?"

Peter blinked. "What? No."

Matt nodded slowly. "Then this probably could’ve waited."

Peter flushed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it could’ve. But I, uh... I kinda panicked.”

You sighed, stepping toward Peter. "What happened, Pete?"

Peter winced, holding up his web-shooter. "It, um... jammed. And I can’t get it off."

Matt tilted his head, incredulous. "You came to me—at my apartment—at night—because your web-shooter jammed?"

Peter swallowed nervously. "I tried everyone else, Mr. Murdock. Literally everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everyone?"

"Doctor Strange yelled at me for disturbing his 'cosmic meditation,' Happy sent me straight to voicemail, Mr. Wilson laughed for a full two minutes before hanging up, and Pepper’s voicemail said she’s out of town." Peter said quickly. "You two were my last option."

You glanced at Matt, suppressing a smile at his annoyed expression. "Alright, fine," you sighed. "Let me see it."

Peter held his arm out gratefully, relaxing as you started examining the device. Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "You realize I’m blind, right?"

Peter flushed deeper. "Well, yeah, but you're like... you're Daredevil."

Matt’s jaw ticked slightly. "And?"

"And," Peter swallowed, voice small, "and I’m really, really sorry for interrupting your night. Again."

Matt sighed heavily, shaking his head as you fiddled with the shooter.

"Got it," you finally announced, popping the jammed cartridge free and handing it back to him. "All fixed."

Peter sighed dramatically. "Thank you so much. Really, I—"

"Pete," Matt interrupted gently. "Go home."

Peter nodded quickly, already halfway back out the window. "Yeah. Right. Okay. Goodnight Mr. Murdock, Y/N."

He vanished just as fast as he’d appeared, leaving silence behind him.

Matt tilted his head back toward you, annoyance fading into amusement. "How much do you think it'd cost to soundproof these windows?"

You smirked, stepping closer to him again. "Worth every penny, honestly."

Matt smiled, tugging you back toward him, fingertips brushing your waist. "Where were we?"

You grimaced. “Actually… Peter’s webshooter’s reminded me of—”

“—Ramen.” Matt cut in.

Your eyebrows raised, “how’d you know?”

Matt chuckled softly, his fingertips brushing your hip gently. "Because anytime Peter shows up, it means your brain starts spinning with work and you always end up craving ramen afterward."

You huffed, poking his chest lightly. "You make me sound predictable."

He tilted his head, amused. "Am I wrong?"

"No," you muttered begrudgingly. "But you don't have to sound so smug about it."

Matt's lips twitched into a smirk. "Can't help it."

You sighed, stepping back slightly. "Come on, let's go get ramen before they close."

"Alright," Matt conceded, grabbing his coat. "But you're buying, since it's your fault."

"My fault?" you repeated incredulously as you slipped on your shoes.

"Your spider-friend, your problem," Matt teased lightly, holding the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes fondly. "He's everyone's spider-friend, Matty."

"Well, everyone doesn't get their evening interrupted like we do."

You linked your arm through his as you stepped outside. "Sounds like someone's still bitter."

Matt hummed softly. "Just hungry."

"Whatever you say, devil boy," you said with a smirk.

He laughed quietly, squeezing your arm lightly. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

---

It had taken another two weeks, three false alarms, and one very apologetic Spider-Man before you and Matt finally managed to find yourselves completely alone, no distractions in sight.

"Door?" Matt asked, murmuring against your lips, his voice husky and quiet.

"Locked," you whispered back.

"Phone?"

"On silent."

Matt smiled against your mouth. "Windows?"

You sighed, pulling back slightly. "Closed. Matt, relax. Everything’s handled."

He chuckled softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you back in. "Just making sure."

You smiled, sliding your arms around his neck and playing with the soft hair at his nape. "At this point, I think we've earned tonight."

Matt hummed quietly, brushing his lips gently along your jaw. "I’m not letting anyone interrupt us tonight, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched slightly, your fingers tightening gently in his hair. "Good. Because I might actually murder whoever tries."

He laughed softly, nudging your nose lightly with his own. "Noted."

You tugged gently at his shirt, pulling him backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You sat down slowly, smiling as Matt followed you without hesitation, settling himself carefully above you.

"You’re sure no spider-kid’s gonna come tapping at the window tonight?" you teased softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

He tilted his head slightly, smiling down at you. "I might actually lose my patience with him if he does."

You laughed quietly, hooking your legs around his hips and tugging him closer. "So fierce, devil boy."

Matt leaned down, lips brushing your ear. "Only for you."

Warmth pooled in your stomach at the softness in his voice, your heart thudding in your chest as you pulled him into a slow, deep kiss.

His lips moved carefully, tenderly, hands slipping beneath your shirt to rest against your bare skin, tracing gentle circles along your waist. You sighed softly against his lips, your fingertips trailing down his chest to find the hem of his shirt.

Matt pulled back slightly, just enough to let you pull his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. His lips found yours again immediately, kissing you with renewed urgency, his skin warm under your hands.

"Still good?" he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, breath catching. "Better than."

His hands slid slowly up your sides, under your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin until he reached the hem and pulled it up and off you. The second it hit the floor, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. Tongue slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, then pulled back just enough to speak.

"Lie back for me, angel."

You obeyed without hesitation, stretching across the bed, propped up slightly on your elbows as Matt’s hands found your thighs. He knelt between them, head tilted, his expression unreadable but focused. You could feel the weight of his attention even without his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "I can feel every little shift in your breathing, hear your heartbeat changing every time I touch you. You're driving me insane."

Your breath caught as his palms slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing gently into the muscle. He leaned in slowly, trailing soft kisses along the inside of your knee, up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You gasped quietly when he nuzzled higher, the stubble on his jaw catching against your skin. One of his hands gripped your thigh, the other pressing a warm palm flat against your stomach, grounding.

"You want this?" he asked softly, mouth brushing right against the waistband of your underwear.

"Yes," you breathed, eyes fluttering. "Matty, please."

That was all it took. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, dragging the fabric down your legs with excruciating slowness, kissing each new inch of skin he exposed. Once they were gone, he settled between your legs like he belonged there.

You squirmed, breathless already. Matt’s hands eased your thighs wider, lips brushing the softest kisses down the crease of your hip. Then lower.

His tongue flicked out, teasing, and you gasped, head dropping back against the pillow.

"Fuck," you whispered.

Matt exhaled a soft laugh, the sound warm against your skin. "That good already, sweetheart?"

Then he buried his mouth between your thighs. No warning, no hesitation. Just heat and tongue and pressure that had your back arching off the bed.

"Ah—Matty," you choked out, hands scrambling for his hair, needing something to hold onto as his tongue licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center.

He groaned like he tasted the sound you made, hands anchoring you, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs as he worked.

You were already dripping for him, and he didn’t let up, tongue pressing and curling in ways that made your entire body tremble. He knew exactly how to read you—the way your hips twitched, the way your moans caught, the way your breath stuttered when he sucked just right.

Your thighs started to shake.

"Matty—oh god—please don’t stop," you gasped, one hand flying to muffle your mouth, the other tangled in his messy hair.

He didn't stop.

He doubled down.

His mouth moved faster, tongue fucking into you before flattening and dragging slow, greedy circles over your clit, sucking just hard enough to make you cry out.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna—" Your whole body tensed, thighs clamping, and Matt growled against you, holding you open, not letting you go anywhere.

"Let go," he murmured against your soaked skin. "Come on, angel. Come for me."

You shattered.

It hit hard, sharp and overwhelming, your hips jerking as the orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, hands fisting in the sheets, breath breaking as your body shook.

Matt held you through every second of it, mouth softening but never leaving you, licking you through the aftershocks with slow, lazy strokes until you finally whimpered, pushing weakly at his head.

He kissed your inner thigh one last time before crawling back up, settling his weight gently over you, mouth slick and smile smug.

"Hi," he murmured.

You huffed a laugh, dazed and breathless. "You’re such a menace."

"You love it," he said, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.

"Maybe," you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "Come here."

He kissed you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. His body pressed heavy and warm against yours, one hand slipping down to cradle your thigh, the other bracing next to your head.

You wrapped your legs around him, tugging him closer.

"Your turn, devil boy."

Matt's breath caught. His body stilled above yours, tension rolling through his shoulders like a current. He tilted his head slightly, and you could feel him—feel the way he honed in on every shift of your breath, the thump of your pulse, the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

"Say it again," he murmured.

You smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his spine. "Your turn."

Matt groaned softly, low and wrecked, like the words hit somewhere primal. One of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip as he leaned in, voice rough. "Tell me if anything's too much."

"Matty," you whispered, hips rolling up against the bulge still trapped in his pants, "I want all of it."

His mouth crashed back onto yours—hot, open, desperate. You tasted yourself on his lips, still slick and wet from where he’d had his mouth on you, and it made something in your gut twist up tight.

His hands were everywhere—your ribs, your thighs, your throat. Always so fucking careful, even when he was losing control. Even now, his fingers trembled where they gripped your hip.

"Take 'em off," you whispered against his mouth, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his knees, hands fumbling at his belt. You watched him—bare chest rising with each shaky breath, flushed, lips red from kissing you senseless, hair sticking up like you’d dragged your fingers through it one too many times. The second he shoved his pants low, you saw the outline of him, thick and hard, the head already leaking.

You bit your lip. "God, Matty."

He huffed a breathless laugh, cocky but a little shaky. "You looking at me like that isn’t helping."

"I like what I see."

Matt didn’t answer—just leaned in again, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself. He stroked slow, base to tip, teasing himself while he hovered over you, breath hot against your cheek.

You reached down, fingertips grazing his wrist. "Let me."

He let you take over, groaning softly when your hand wrapped around him. You stroked him slowly, dragging your thumb over the head, spreading the precum, watching the way his jaw flexed.

"You feel so fucking good," you whispered.

Matt's voice was strangled. "You keep doing that and this is gonna be over before it starts."

You laughed softly, but let go, guiding him instead—his hips nudging between your legs, cock heavy and hot, head sliding wet over your slit. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you whispered, fingers curling in his hair. "Matty, please."

He pushed in slow. The stretch was deep, thick, dragging your walls open inch by inch until he bottomed out with a shaky groan.

"F-fuck," he whispered against your throat. "You feel... Jesus."

You were gasping, clinging to his shoulders, your body trying to adjust around him. It wasn’t your first time. Wasn’t his either. But it was your first time together. And it was already better than anything you'd felt before.

Matt didn’t move right away. He just held there, forehead pressed to your shoulder, one hand braced by your head and the other gripping your thigh like it grounded him.

"Matty," you whispered. "Move. Please."

He did.

A slow pull, then a push, dragging back in with a rhythm that felt like it was made just for you. He moaned into your neck, his voice thick with want. "So fucking tight—"

Your nails bit into his skin as he picked up pace, shallow thrusts turning deeper, faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, slick and wet and obscene. You couldn't stop the noises leaving your mouth, couldn't quiet the little cries every time he hit that spot inside you that made your legs tremble.

"You’re perfect," he panted. "Every sound you make—fuck, I can feel them. Hear 'em in your throat, in your chest—"

"Matt—"

"I’ve wanted this," he groaned, fucking into you harder now, the bed creaking beneath both of you. "You. For years. Always thought about you. Touching you. Making you come on my cock."

Your breath stuttered. "Holy fuck, Matty—"

"Come for me," he growled, his thumb finding your clit and circling, firm and fast. "Right now. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna hear how you sound when you fall apart."

You didn’t stand a chance. Your orgasm hit hard, sudden, crashing through you with a strangled cry, your legs tightening around his waist.

Matt cursed, fucking you through it, hips stuttering as he groaned, low and wrecked. "Shit—gonna come—fuck—"

He slammed in deep and came with a gasp, cock pulsing inside you, heat spilling as his whole body trembled above you. He collapsed onto his forearms, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon.

"Jesus," you whispered, still shaking.

Matt laughed, soft and breathless. "Yeah. That about covers it."

You grinned, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. "Worth the wait."

His lips found yours again, soft now, lingering.

"Every second."

And for once, nothing interrupted.

if you have any requests with these two, don't be afraid to send in an ask!!

[ofstarsandvibranium]

The Leg Bet

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Jack Abbot x GN!Reader

Summary: As a gag gift, you give Jack a prosthetic leg that also doubles as a flask. He ends up actually using it.

A/N: twas a shit post and @baezen ended up liking the idea so here it is. THIS IS A CRACK FIC. NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.

The Pitt Masterlist

Jack didn't care much for his birthday. After all the shit he's been through, he's just lucky to wake up every day with you by his side. He may not care for his birthday, but that doesn't mean you don't give him a present every year.

He's gotten various things from you. A new watch, a new radio, tickets to a game, etc. This year was...different.

He tears off the wrapping paper and then lifts the lid of the gift box. His brows furrow and he lifts the item out of the box, "Baby, what's this?"

"A prosthetic leg."

His mouth twitches in a smirk, "Yeah, I see that, but why did you get me one if the one I have is just fine?" he gestures to his current prosthetic.

You giggle mischievously, "This leg is special."

Jack observes it, "How?"

"It can hold liquid inside."

He cocks a brow at you, "Excuse me?"

You scoot closer to him, "This here," you point to the top, "It twists off," you demonstrate, "Voila! It can hold any beverage you like. Can keep your ice water cold or hot drinks warm all day!"

Jack can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your gift to him, "Honey, I love you, you're very sweet....but why?"

You shrug, "I ran out of ideas for birthday gifts and I came across this! So I said 'fuck it' and bought it!" You watch Jack observe the leg and its sturdiness, "Honestly, it was mainly just a joke. I did buy us tickets to watch that band you like. So I can return this-" you reach for the leg but Jack pulls it back, "Nope. I wanna keep it."

It's your turn to look at Jack in surprise, "Seriously?"

He nods, "Yeah, I'm actually curious how well this'll work. I'm gonna try it on my next shift."

You snicker, "Okay, but you need to give me updates throughout the day about it!"

"I will, baby. Thank you," his kisses your lips and places the prosthetic back into the box.

_____________________________

Unexpectedly, the prosthetic leg flask ended up being a staple in Jack's every day life.

The first time he brought it to work, he put some coffee in it. During his lunch, he pulled off the leg and poured some coffee out into a disposable cup. His colleagues in the break room were frozen in confusion.

"Abbot, what the fuck is that?" Dr. Ellis asked.

He smirks, "Y/N got me a prosthetic leg flask for my birthday. Trying it out for the first time. I put hot coffee in it hours ago and it's still hot!"

Ellis shakes her head, "I'm so confused but so intrigued. Where did they buy it?"

"Internet," he senior attending replies nonchalantly, sipping on his still hot coffee from his prosthetic leg flask.

After the first few times, his colleagues were used to seeing Abbot pouring liquids out of his leg. It's become a frequent occurrence that now most the of the department has daily bets on what contents he has inside.

It's become this whole thing that neither you or Jack anticipated, but it's all in good fun. Fun that many didn't expect from the super serious senior attending.

Every day, on the white board hidden, What Does Abbot Have in His Leg Today? is written. Many say coffee, others say alcohol or water. Some have even said soup and, on some rare occasions, those people would be right.

Before Jack exits the ED, he'd reveal the contents and a collective groan or cheer would erupt, depending on who bet on what.

_________________________

The new residents peek at the white board that's hidden away from patients.

"'What does Abbot have in his leg today?' What the hell does that even mean?" Santos asks her fellow residents, Javadi and Whitaker.

"...I honestly have no clue," Whitaker says and Javadi.

As Dr. McKay walks by, Javadi stops her, "Oh! Dr. McKay?"

"Yeah?"

"What does that mean on the board?" the young resident points to the white board and McKay peers at it.

She snorts, "Oh, you'll find out. Wait until Doctor Abbot clocks out and then you'll see. He should be coming out any minute now."

Right on cue, Jack emerges from the locker room with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Those who aren't currently with a patient wait at central for him.

He stands there waiting for some to come by and then he holds a cup up, "Water," and places it in front of Dana.

Some of the nurses groan and some of the doctors pump their fist in the air.

The residents, still look absolutely confused. McKay fills them in, "Doctor Abbot's partner got him a prosthetic leg that also doubles as a flask. We all like to take bets on what he puts in it on a day to day basis."

Javadi speaks, "Well that's-"

"Interesting." Whitacker says.

"Fucking hilarious." Santos adds.

"-different."

McKay shrugs, "Gives us something fun to look forward to." The residents just nod and then proceed to their assignments.

Who'd have thought such fun would come from Jack's birthday gag gift?

[deansbestfriend]

just close enough 𐙚 dean winchester

dean winchester x gn!reader

tags and warnings: another dean drabble. fluff, angst, unspoken romance, TOUCH STARVED!DEAN (my baby) dean feeling undeserving, you feeling otherwise.

summary: cleaning up dean after a hunt leads to a side of him you had never experienced before.

The motel room reeked of antiseptic and exhaustion.

A pale bulb swung from the ceiling, casting its weak light over the cracked linoleum floor and a man who refused to sit still.

"Dean," you warned, clutching the first aid kit in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. "Stop moving."

"I'm fine," he muttered, jaw tight as his green eyes darted anywhere but at you. Blood streaked his cheek, smeared and half-dried, blending into the stubble along his jaw. Neither of you sure if it was his or someone else's.

"You're not fine," you snapped, more forcefully than you'd intended. You softened your tone, getting closer. "Just let me help, okay?"

"I've had worse, this'll heal on its own." He smirked, but held a weariness in his eyes.

"Yeah? And what's your plan for the dried blood? Gonna wear it like a badge of honor?" You fire back.

He huffed a laugh, but when you reached out, he didn't pull away. Instead, he let you stand between his knees, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to notice the way his breath hitched as your fingers brushed his chin.

"Hold still," your murmured, your voice softening as you tilted his head towards the light.

Dean's gaze flicked up to you, and you could feel the intensity of his eyes even though you focused on cleaning the blood from his face. His expression was unguarded, vulnerable in a way he rarely let himself be.

"You're gonna fuss over me no matter what I say, huh?" he asked, his tone more fond than exasperated.

"Pretty much," you said lightly, dabbing at the dried streak. "You should be used to it by now."

He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. He was comfortable. "Yeah, I guess I should."

You worked quietly, your touch gentle as you cleaned the wound on his cheek. Every so often, your fingers would graze his skin, and you felt him tense. Not from pain though, from something else entirely.

"There," you said, stepping back to admire your work. "Good as new. Well... almost."

Dean's lips quirked into a small smile. "Thanks, Doc."

"Don't get use to it." You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at your own lips.

"Too late," he said, his voice softer now.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world outside the dingy motel room didn't exist. It was just the two of you, too close, sharing something unspoken.

"You should rest," you said, breaking the moment but not moving away.

Dean tilted his head, looking upwards to you still, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What, you gonna tuck me in too?"

You swatted his arm lightly, laughing. "Don't push your luck."

But as you turned away from him, you heard him mutter, almost to himself. "I wouldn't mind if you did."

Your heart skipped a beat, and by the time you went to look back at him, his hand had gently wrapped itself around your wrist pulling you close to him.

You stood there, hovering above him, his arms snaking itself around your waist while the side of his head rested against your stomach. His breathing evened out, the tension in his frame finally began to dissipate.

Watching him from above, your chest ached in the best possible way. Though you didn't say it, you knew you'd stay right here, as long as he'd let you.

He nestled into you further, now one of your hands ran through his brunette head of hair, aimlessly.

"You don't have to do this," he said gruffly. His voice was low, laced with something unsaid.

"Yes, I do." You replied soft and gentle but full of intention like the embrace he had you in. "You never take care of yourself. Someone has to."

His arms tightened around you.

"You shouldn't have to," he murmured after a beat, so quiet you almost missed it. Almost.

"What does that mean?" You pause, your breath hitching. He looked up at you, his hands on both sides of your figure now. Your eyes locked with his finally.

"It means," he shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. "It means I don't deserve it. Any of it. This."

Your chest tightened in protest. "Dean."

"Don't," he said, a note of desperation breaking through his usual bravado. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

Your heart stuttered, torn between his pain and your own. You wanted to reach for him, to smooth the lines of worry etched into his face, to tell him he was wrong. But you couldn't, not with the way his walls shot up the second you got too close.

"Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly, voice hoarse.

"Do what?"

"Care," he said simply.

"Because I do."

He didn't look away this time, and it was almost unbearable, the intensity of his gaze. "You shouldn't."

"And yet, here I am." You replied softly, a single hand of yours gently touched the side of his face. His eyes fixated on you, longing for you as your gaze lingered.

"Thank you." His lips twitched, almost a smile. He didn't let you go however, he pulled you back in. The two of you stayed like this for longer than you could remember, but for him you'd stay like this forever. Just close enough to him.

[mona-risms]

Rumi x Reader where Reader is a cursed deity that helps the hunters generations (through financially or become a manager once etc.) and finally meets Rumi after the defeat of the demon king. and Mira and Zoey are chaotic match makers

◆ MAIN COURSE: Rumi x cursed diety!gn!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: N/A

◆ NOTES: I LOVE RUMI SO BAD but also it's half 2 rn why did I stay awake to finish this bro........never letting anyone tell me I give up halfway in anything

Man. You musta done something to get cursed to be a manager for eternity 😭 joke but not actually joke. I can't replace Bobby man.......therefore INTRODUCING 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁 the A&R Manager role!!!!! This'll be one of the Only times my music diploma will Ever come in handy

For reference before getting into it (bare w me please let me ramble even though this'll never be mentioned about again), an A&R Manager kinda oversees a LOT of things. While a unit/artist manager like Bobby is mostly responsible for one/a few units at a time, an A&R manager's responsible for a HUGE range of things like scouting/signing/developing new talent, being a liaison for the artist and the label, overseeing the recording process, to even being aware of different trends and demographics so that they keep the popularity up with the label and its artists

Much as it is a role for them to be personally involved in basically everything, the fact that there's a lot to do most definitely makes it hard to really do so, which will explain why they wouldn't have really met each other this entire time until the defeat of the Gwi-Ma. Bc honestly let's be real there's no way HUNTR/X is the only unit in their label, just the most famous one........and the one trained to handle demon slaying lol

ANYWAY ONTO THE ACTUAL. THING

When Celine first came up to you about what the next generation of Hunters should be, you weren't necessarily surprised about her proposal that fully leaned into the flashfire that was K-Pop in the modern age. Once upon a time, it would've been more traditional forms of musical entertainment, but there's a reason why you were tasked to oversee 'trends' and such for the next generation to create the Golden Honmoon with.. and take on the world by storm, you supposed.

So seeing them for the first time?

..Yeah, this was definitely going to match up with the algorithm.

"Girls," you hear Celine introduce you as you bowed respectfully, "meet the A&R manager for DH Entertainment, several years your senior."

(An understatement, of course.)

Either way, you follow it up with a simple introduction at the same time as the trio bowed in reciprocation, "[L/N] [Y/N], a pleasure to meet the three of you. Former trainees now, yes?"

The one who piped up first was not only the shortest one, but was most likely the loudest one out of the three, "Yes!! We've been working so hard for this, so it feels like such a dream--"

"Right," you cut her off, though not unkindly, "though do remember that you're not just debuting as idols—you're debuting as Hunters, first and foremost. ..Though I doubt you three can debut without any names..?"

"Oh, oh!" The loud one piped up again with an endearingly playful energy, "So I'm Zoey, and the grumpy-looking one's Mira--"

"Really, Zoey--"

"Shh, it's okay, this is just, like, first-hand practice for when we have to MC on stage and--"

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. "Thank you, Zoey. I.. assume you're the leader, then?"

"If I may," Celine interjects, a slight humorous look on her face from watching the entire exchange, "you assume incorrectly."

"Really? Then who..?"

You see Mira nudge her head to the same person that Zoe ends up glomping from behind, "This one! Her name's--"

"Rumi."

The purple-haired woman spoke—or rather, breathed out—her own name, though she doesn't seem all there, if her expression was any indication. Her brown eyes were wide, as if she was witnessing, beholding, some sort of majesty (which, really, wasn't that much far off, though it's not as if it mattered anymore after so long). She stood stock still, as if suddenly unsure of how to act.

And it seems like the other unit members noticed too.

"..Rumi? You okay?" Mira nudged Rumi's side, "you're acting weird all of a sudden—what happened to your freakish proactivity?"

That seemed to snap Rumi out of whatever reverie she was in, scrambling to form a response, "OH! Shoot, uh, sorry! For staring, I mean, I just--

"Hmm? What's this?"

"Shut up, Zoey, let them talk."

"Don't worry about it," you waved it off with a kind smile and ignored the other two and their whispering. "So you're the unlucky leader?"

Rumi lets out a small snort of laughter before nodding, forgetting her initial awkwardness, "Yeah. Though I'd feel bad if I left them to anyone else."

"Hey!"

"Ha. Good luck with that—I've only had the pleasure of exposure for a few minutes, yet I can already tell they'll be a handful. And so will you."

"Wha-- what's that supposed to mean?"

You simply give her a smile as you stepped back, hands raised in a surrendering position, "It means I can tell that the three of you are going to give me a very hard time, just like the other generations before you."

Now it was Celine's turn to sound offended, though in no part did it seem genuine, "May I remind you who was on field again?"

"Was, dear." It was probably a hypocritical push-back, considering how you haven't been on field at all since being cursed, but alas, life wasn't fair.

So you quickly follow it up by patting away imaginary lint off your clothes before taking out your phone, "Now, as much as I'd like to carry this on, I've got enough work to break a mortal's back." And you pat Rumi's shoulder, which her cheeks tint the slightest pink in response, "Good luck, HUNTR/X. I'll be seeing you around."

And you let your hand slide down and drop to your side as you walked off, though you can't help but catch snippets of remaining conversation:

"You've got the hots for the manager. No way."

"I do not!"

"You froze, Rumi. I have never seen you freeze in front of someone new before."

"Cut it out!"

Idk I felt like I had to write out their FIRST introduction, bc honestly I can't see them NOT meeting you if you're in a high-up role, considering their importance

This DOES set things up though, bc they know they exist. But let's be honest it's probably VERY rarely that you two would ever happen upon each other, and even then it's probably in passing, for a few seconds type shit

You might be cursed to roam the Earth instead of actually be the deity of whatever it is you were supposed to hold domain over, but again. You're STILL a deity. So maybe after sensing that something is ABSOLUTELY WRONG, you manage to find where everyone's gathered, where the Saja Boys were performing, where Gwi-Ma had waited to devour all these souls before Rumi showed up, her half-demon heritage VERY out in the open now. Perhaps you even help them fend the demons off, either by boosting the power these souls had or outright using whatever power you had

I think after Gwi-Ma's banished, ever since you've been cursed, you've been in charge of cleanup. Erasing enough memories and proof to make the entire event seem like a Mandela Effect (you loathe how technology advances every minute bc there's THAT fucking issue too), structure reparation, everything. And THIS would be when you and HUNTR/X start interacting more

You'd probably most likely already know about Rumi's half-demon thing; you kinda had to be told by Celine ages ago for the sake of any possible damage control if, say, someome who shouldn't be able to see the markings see it. So when she asks you why you don't look shocked at all, it's because you're not. You've known what she is the entire time, and you don't really gaf. You're a cursed deity, why tf would you?

After the adrenaline wears off, she'd be back to oscillating between being SLIGHTLY awkward—because Jesus CHRIST she thought you were absolutely gorgeous then and she STILL thinks you're gorgeous now—and genuinely enjoying your presence, especially now that she doesn't really have to hide anymore (no thanks to Celine lmfao). Plus I think her newfound freedom opens up the actual excitement of learning about another supernatural entity that ISN'T a demon

Naturally, Zoey and Mira add 2+2 together and decide to meddle. Because honestly beyond the two of them, they know for a FACT that Rumi deserves happiness and acceptance from someone she genuinely likes. And considering you're there.......looking at her with those eyes............likeeeeee 😜😜😜😜 it's just basic girl math!!!!!

So it starts with them pushing Rumi towards you EVERY chance they get. You need to find new talent? Let Rumi help!!! You're going through recording? Oh suddenly the both of them have a cold oh noooooo Rumi will have to go on her own to record her own parts!! You're filling in paperwork? Oh em gee I wonder why we walked all the way here oh I think we left the oven on okay byeeee

It gets less subtle for them lol. They start asking Rumi how she feeeeeeels in so many different ways ("So is age and experience a thing for you?" "Wh--" "Just asking~! Jinu was like a few hundred, and [Y/N]'s been watching over several Hunter generations, so-- mmf!" "Eat your fries or so help me--"), and they even blatantly go up to ask you about preferences and stuff, even going so far as to just flat-out describe Rumi herself ("Purple hair and glowing demon marks; a turn-on or a turn-off?" "..Why?" "Just answer the question.")

Does it get you all closer? Yes. Does it also get you and Rumi closer? Yes, actually, but not just because of their wingmanning—both of you bond over the sheer exasperation at the VERY obvious attempts of playing matchmaker

The two of you probably eventually give in when you get individual messages from the other person about asking to meet at some secluded spot where you can see the stars really clearly without obstruction. How do you two give in, you ask? By just honestly going for it when the two of you realise that no, neither of you texted each other about meeting here and yes, this was absolutely planned by Zoey and Mira. You sit there on the picnic blanket that was mysteriously set up and kitted out with a vintage lantern from a some local goth shop and a basket of food, and the two of you talk personally: about your days; about how Rumi was handling being a demon out in the 'open' (aka humans can't really see it but supernaturals and Hunters can); about how and why you're cursed; about anything and everything

I don't think the two of you would kiss here, not on the lips anyway maybe the cheek ir the knuckle at MOST but otherwise nah. But it's the opening of something more, and when the two of you just lean on each other as you watch the stars, you can just hear a very faint shriek that sounds SUSPICIOUSLY like Zoey. But rn that's not your concern go back to your date 🙏

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [HAN]

Han allows himself to indulge in the fantasy of letting his group members use you like a toy.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Han x Fem!Reader Warnings: Dub-con!!, reader says things like "wait," and "hold on," etc., inning/pushing/shoving, manhandling, fingering, unprotected sex, one big ol orgy, etc.

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. also - the middle pic?? GOOD GAWD,,,

Word Count: 1.2K

Divider by @enchanthings

Bangchan | Lino | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | I.N

"She likes when you're rough." Jisung's voice peeps from somewhere in the back of the group following down the hallway of your apartment. At the front, and currently being held tight by two of the men your boyfriend was close friends with (and whom you adored), you stumble over your own feet on the way to the bedroom. "So you guys can go all out. Just - no breaking her, yeah?"

You shift in the hold of the men guiding you along, voice wavering in both excitement and uncertainty. "Nobody told me we were doing this today --" You can't help the giggle that escapes your lips, willingly letting them push you towards the bed.

"Hold her down."

It's not your boyfriend's voice you hear from behind you - but the leader of the group; Gruff, gritty with need. He huffs out from beside where you trip over the rug at the end of your bed, body hitting the mattress harder than intended. Chan's chuckling, one hand holding tightly to the fabric of your pajama top and pinning your chest down to the sheets when you begin to wriggle. "Stay still, angel, and this'll be a lot easier."

"Jesus..." Someone else from behind begins to mutter to himself. The voice lower, paired with the hand running over your thigh and tugging down your shorts to expose your dripping hole to them, gives away that it's Felix. Always eager and quite full of energy, he's almost instantly grabbing and kneading at your ass before you have to chance to move - but he does take the initiative to spank you when you wiggle too much under their holds. If you'd glanced back you would've seen just how much you affected him, rock hard and almost whimpering from how badly he wanted to get at you already.

"Jisung..--" Your voice breaks in your throat and you can hear your boyfriend giggling off to the side.

The hand currently keeping you from pushing yourself up - pinning your wrists behind your back - tightens it's grip on your soft skin. It belongs to Jeongin, who lets his body slowly lean down to the side so he can peer into your eyes when your head tips his direction. He watches as you shift to get a better look at him, whispering out, "Innie--"

But he shakes his head, a knowing smile overtaking dimpled cheeks. "Sorry, sweetheart. But I'm just as excited as they are and... if you're going to make it harder for us, then we'll just have to take matters into our own hands."

"Come on," Someone grips at your hips where they lay on the bed, palms warm and heavy before his fingers wrap around the bone and pull harshly upward. Your weight shifts, neck straining and brows crinkling when you settle on your knees - and your grimace only hardens when two fingers slip right into your pussy with such ease. His thumb slides down between your folds until he finds the soft bundle of nerves, making it swell with the way he prods and rubs over it almost angrily. "Oh my God," Seungmin coos, almost enamored with the way you tighten around his fingers. "You're dripping, aren't you?"

But your boyfriend has first dibs - He is your boyfriend after all. So after giving Seungmin some time to toy around with you, pushing at your clit and making you tremble with his hands, he shoves the younger aside to take his rightful place behind you. Pants dropped to his thighs, his cock slips right into your walls with practiced ease. "God, it's like you're made for me." Jisung sighs in adoration, his eyes slowly rolling back in his head with the warmth of your slick coating his cock. And it's little to no time at all before he's moving, the sound of his hips slamming into your own filling the room.

"Hey."

Someone all but bites. With your face pressed into the mattress, he watches as you clearly struggle to lift your head at all. The angle makes you whimper until his fingers tangle into the crown of your head, pulling your hair until you had to crane your neck to look at him. Changbin stares down at the red of your cheeks. With teary eyes blurred and damp, you blink up at the man sitting on the bed in front of you. Had he been there the whole time, watching you rock back and forth on the sheets with no way to support yourself? It seems he doesn't have much to say - He just wanted to see your pretty face while his dongsaeng fucked into you like a dog in heat, drool sliding down your chin and tears beginning to streak over the pink of your cheeks.

"Wait..-- Wait--"

The sudden emptiness of Jisung pulling out makes you whine in distress, lips falling open and jaw slack as someone seems to take his place. Cock pushing into your walls - it's heavier, thicker, bigger. It makes you choke on every breath as he sinks into you balls deep before pulling back, dragging along your inside and almost teasing you with how slowly he seems to move. "Sorry, angel." Leaning down and letting his chest just barely touch the back of your shoulders, Minho settles comfortably behind and lets his hips push closer to bury himself back inside of you. "No time to wait. We all want a turn."

You can feel every breath that escapes his lips brushing over your throat, eyes previously glued to Changbin now flittering down towards the sheets beneath your bodies. With a dull gaze and spit still coating your lips, someone's hand gently takes a hold of your chin. Your eyes remain on the sheets, almost seeming out of it with how perfectly Minho's length massages every inch of your pussy - something you've dreamed of (Jisung, too.) but never expected to actually happen.

The person's thumb gently swipes over your bottom lip, slowly gathering the spit that drips and lifting it to his own mouth to lick it clean - before he's carefully taking hold of your chin once more and letting his thumb press into your mouth. Hyunjin watches as spit pools on your tongue, coating his finger and making him shudder where he sits beside Changbin in front of you.

"Mmn--" You gasp when Minho's hips snap hard to your own, Hyunjin almost pulling his hand back with the way your lips close and threaten to bite down. But you refrain and his worries instantly fade, continuing to push down on your tongue until you were drooling over his hand. He sighs out and, with his free hand, unbuttons his jeans in a quick snap. The fly, already down, lets his cock gain some relief after straining against his briefs for so long. "Keep that pretty mouth open," Hyunjin hums, "I'll put it to good use while I wait for my turn."

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l @jeonginsleftcheek

[smutinlove]

I saw your post for smut asks! How about one where Jason Todd isn't really sexually awakened until he meets reader and he has no idea what to do? Or one where Dick Grayson has been on a year long mission trip so our poor boy is FERAL and STARVED for reader's pu$$y?

YOU FREAKKKKK IM DOING BOTH OMG OMG AHHHHH

jason is a bit of a wimp in this fic hehe

here's the link for the dick grayson fic

Jason sat at the bar, taking small sips of his beer, wondering where his brother, Dick, had gone off to. He swore he saw a woman dragging him by his collar. Jason didn't really think about it too much. He was bored out of his mind and wanted to leave. He sighed, gulping down the beer.

Little did he know that you had been watching and observing his movements all night. You went to order a drink and sat next to him. "Hey, could I get two martinis? One for me and one for the handsome man next to me," you said to the bartender, who winked at Jason, leaving him confused.

Jason fidgeted with his wallet as he handed the bartender some money. "Ah, a gentleman, I see," you smirked. Jason blushed and looked down; that's when he noticed your outfit. You were wearing a white tank top with a deep neck, which you had paired with baggy jeans and black, chunky heels.

Tits. That's what he saw. Jason looked away, trying to remain respectful, causing you to laugh. The bartender hands you two your drinks.

"You're the first shy man I've ever met," you commented with a sly smirk. Jason took a sip of his martini and grinned. "There's a first time for everything," he replied.

Jason looked deeply into your eyes, memorizing every small detail. His eyes followed down to your lips. One kiss, he thought. He had never felt this way before. His hands were shaking with every thought. "Uhm, so, where are you from?" he asked, avoiding your gaze.

The two of you kept the conversation going for an hour, laughing and smiling along the way. Both of you were heavily drunk and looking deeply into each other's eyes. Jason didn't know what took over him as his hands cupped your cheeks. He smashed his lips against yours.

You two shared a passionate kiss.

"Woah," you muttered, scarlet erupting in your cheeks. "Do you wanna head to my car?" you asked, and that's how you found yourself in the backseat of your car.

Jason's eyes were on you as you took off your tank top, revealing your bra. You motioned for him to unclasp it. He unclasped your bra; your tits sprung out. His eyes fell on your nipples; he was frozen. Unsure what to do, he pulled you in for a kiss once more.

As you two kissed, your hands went down to his belt; you slowly unbuckled it and pulled down his jeans. You slowly pushed him down, breaking the kiss. "Can I?" you asked, pointing to remove his boxers. You could already see the outline of his hard cock.

Jason gulped. "I've never done this before," he admitted. You smiled, "Well, you're in good hands, darling. Now, can I?" He nodded. You pulled his boxers down with your teeth, his cock hitting your face a bit.

"This'll be the time of your life," you whispered. He was big—bigger than you anticipated.

Your tongue flicked against his tip, catching the salty-sweet pre-cum. You licked his cock from top to bottom and then took in the first few inches, causing Jason to moan your name. You went deeper and deeper, your tongue swirling around his length.

Jason groaned, his cock twitching in your mouth. Finally, he came—it was hot and thick. You slurped some of it up and took his cock out of your mouth, gasping for air.

Jason lay there, awestruck. "That was... amazing," he murmured a few more praises, causing you to smirk. Jason sat up and started speaking. "I... you're... so different," he finally admitted. "You've awakened something in me, and I need more."

[kawhh]

I'm aware I'm gonna lose people with this but I really do need to get the thought out of my head (I'm being delusional and this'll make it worse). It's just Jack and blood does something to me. Something magical. Also for the dark!Jack askers.

1.7k words.

Warnings!!!: if you're squeamish, please don't read this. I mean it. There's a lot of blood talk. Him covering you in it. Biting. Me going insane. Being a whore on main. Somnophilia. Jack being feral. If the idea of period sex makes you go ew, this'll make you worse. Him not caring if you don't want him marking you.

You've been worried about him since he got hit - knowing how bad some high stick injuries can be. Stressing until he was shown on the bench, barely calming down seeing all the blood still covering his face. How casual he is about it, not being phased at all, making no effort to wipe it off.

How aggressively he's playing after it, there's more aggression in him when he takes face offs. There's more push behind his skates up and down the ice. More concentration on his bloodied face.

If you're being honest, the whole thing is incredibly hot. Even though there's an underlying beat of concern. You don't like seeing him hurt.

It's late at night, so you're cuddled up on the couch in one of his shirts. Always feels like he's home with you when you're bundled up in his scent.

It's too much for him when he gets home. It's like someone's sucked all the air out of the room. His knuckles white as snow from his grip on the door frame. He doesn't dare move. Feeling like he's one step away from losing any and all sanity that he has left.

His girl.. all perfect.

His shirt on you.. how small you look in it. It's physically stunned him.

He can feel the blood on his face still. He was in too much of a rush to get home to you, he wouldn't take the time to wipe it off. He wasn't wasting time showering. Not when he knows you're all alone at home. He's not phased by it, just slowly dragging his tongue over his lip to prevent it from getting out of control.

He's no stranger to blood in his mouth. Injuries are common and he can't just stop whenever it happens.

He figures you're asleep. Who knows how long he's just been stuck there, trying to piece together the non feral part of his brain. You haven't made any noise, haven't reacted to him coming home.

He's free to just.. observe.

He's salivating over your legs. They look so pure and untouched, unmarked, oh so long looking under the shirt. Fuck.. he doesn't know what he wants first.

He could have them wrapped around his waist, have you scratching your own marks into his back as he fucks you into the wall. Wanting to see the pathetically adorable tears streak down your face until you get noise complaints.

Have you bouncing on his dick, slamming you down to force you to go at his pace, forcing you back down to meet his savage thrusts even if you try and crawl off to escape.

Wrapping them around his head, forcing them tighter against his head, wanting to suffocate against your cunt. Feeling you cry and squirm against him, trying to escape his tongue.

How pretty he'd paint you with the blood that's still leaking from his mouth. What a perfect way to make a point.. show you how much you truly belong to him. It'd stand out so vividly against your skin.. against your cute little cunt.

It's enough to take the final sanity percentage from him. He can't stay here watching you from afar now. He's gone too deep. The chances of him walking by you to shower before coming back.. non existent.

He's like a possessed animal stalking towards you, hair loose, half covering his face. His expression dark, his eyes barely visible. His pupils fully dilated.

If he doesn't get his mouth on you and in you, he thinks he might lose it. He can't even wait for you to stir. He doesn't have the restraint. Doesn't fucking want the restraint.

He's hovering over you before he can even process it, grabbing your legs as gently as he physically can in his state, making room for himself to kneel between them on the couch. Leaning over to hover over your face, staring at how innocent you look under him.

His baby must've stayed up late worrying yourself to sleep, he knows how you get.

His fingers not being able to resist digging into your shoulders, staring at the way that your body doesn't resist him. The slight bruises he leaves, painting you. The way you almost lean into his touch in your sleep, seemingly seconds away from mewling like a cat.

He can't resist pulling your shirt up. He can't get it fully off without waking you up, but he inches it towards your neck as gently as he can. Restraining you slightly as it reaches armpit height.

He's slightly startled as he hears a small sound, like a droplet. Looking down, realizing that some of the blood from his mouth is smack bang in the middle of your exposed chest now. Trailing it with his eyes as it slides down your cleavage, under your bra, leaving a skin stain as it goes.

He can't stop the gulp, processing how it feels to see him on you, in such a different way..

There's nothing more him than his blood. It's so striking against your skin. He can't explain the sudden urge he has to follow it with his tongue. To cover you in him.

He makes a fatal mistake, resting his head against your shoulder. His attempt to control himself only makes the problem worse as he lifts his head, realizing that you're now covered in his blood, your whole left shoulder looks like a murder scene.

He can't resist licking your skin. Just once. Tasting your skin combined with him. He's never felt this possessive before, never felt more sure in the fact that you're his.

Sinking his teeth gently into the skin, just enough to leave a mark. He doesn't fully know what's wrong with him. This need to just.. mark you up. To mark up every single inch of your skin. You're such a little fucking cute bunny rabbit. So adorably small against him. So weak. So fragile. So his.

He can't stop at just your shoulder. He's inching down, nipping and sucking at your skin, occasionally licking at the blood if it pools too much. Making his way down to your chest, watching the droplets drip down your tits, following the perfect curve, seeping into your bra.

He can't resist running his tongue down your cleavage. Slowly folding the cups over enough to get his hot, wet mouth around your nipple. Biting harshly, eyes flicking up to you as your squirm in your sleep. He wonders if you're dreaming about it. If you can feel his body. If you're mentally aware of how deranged he's feeling tonight.

Squirming more as he reaches your stomach. He half entertains spelling his name on your stomach but he truly doesn't have the patience. He's biting his lip more as he goes, trying to agitate it, getting frustrated that the blood's drying up. He doesn't care if it hurts, how much it stings with every single movement. He'll take care of it later. It's not important.

It does rush him slightly. He can't risk running out of it before he gets to his meal. Skipping mostly past your stomach, dragging his parted mouth down until he reaches his meal. Resting his mouth against your cute underwear. Smirking as he realizes there's adorable little teddies on them. Slowly staining them with blood as he keeps his head still, resting his mouth above your clit. The contrast of the blood and your visible innocence, he could moan.

He's just resting there, breathing you in. He can smell you. Feel the heat coming from your adorable pussy. He can't resist gently biting, mostly gripping your underwear in his teeth, letting it smack back against your clit, hearing you let out the littlest moan. He doesn't care to check if you're waking up now. It's not like he'll stop, even if you do wake up and protest. There's nothing you can do about it.

Nuzzling his nose down where your thigh meets this delicious skin, breathing you in. He can feel the dampness of your pussy smearing on his face as he drags his cheek down. Marking himself up with you.

Biting you in a harsher manner on your inner thighs, feeling how your skin melts like butter at his attack. Smearing you in the blood that's drying up faster now, licking up the arousal that's seeping from your underwear.

His girl loves this so fucking much.. as you should.

The little whimpers you let out.. he can't wait any longer. He's teased himself enough. He can feel the fucking precum soaking his shorts. Hell, it's probably even on your legs at this point. The throbbing is so hard for him to ignore, but you aren't fully claimed yet. He hasn't had his fill of your cunt.

Spinning you slightly, dragging you to the edge of the couch. Sinking to his knees in front of you.

He's ripping your underwear off with his teeth, laughing cruelly as he hears your startled gasp. You're awake now it seems. Maybe you're swearing at him. Maybe you're begging him to stop. Maybe you're moaning. He doesn't care. It's time to eat.

Swiping his tongue all the way from your cute hole to your adorable clit. There's only a faint amount of blood leaking from him now, but it's enough for him to slowly watch it mix with your arousal. Only fueling him more to eat you.

Stretching you apart with his fingers, putting weight behind it to make sure you can't move. Can't protest. Sucking every last drop from you, lapping at you like you're water in an oasis. Feeling you clench. Nipping at your clit, not wanting your body to get used to one sensation.

Thrusting his tongue into your cunt, licking against your walls, wanting to consume you from the source.

He's thrusting slowly against the couch, imagining splitting you open with his cock, mimicking the motions with his tongue. You're spasming around him, he can hear your cries getting louder.

Slowly thrusting in with his finger, adding another soon after. Stretching you open, making room for him to shove his tongue further in along with them.

Feeling your legs shake around his shoulders, restricting his breathing. Cumming in his shorts at you getting off on being claimed.

Pulling back, eyes half lidded, running his eyes over your body. Admiring all of the blood smears and marks on your body. He's never felt so in control. So satiated. So utterly dominant over you. There's no doubting that you're his.

And he hasn't even fucked you yet.

[asapeveryday]

noctuary pt.4 - p.b x tlou au

noc·​tu·​ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē

: a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

--read pt.3 here. next chap here.

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings: recreational drug use, mentions of smut in convo (but nothing happens at all lmao sorry)

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be.

notes: this one's a little nika centric (sorry i luv her) but also because i wanted this chapter to really focus more on friendship, or really the beginning of it. having friends is important, but in this world i cant imagine it to be easy.

FRIENDSHIP ISN'T something foreign to you. You know the feeling of someone steady behind you, ready to defend. You can recall the comfortable brush of an arm slung around your shoulder. The lack of fear to speak your mind.

You wouldn't have survived back home without a friend. Everyone needed one, one person they could count on to clean their bruises after a beating, to argue in their favour regardless of the consequences. You haven't felt that solidarity in a long time time.

Paige is not your friend. This is something you tell yourself over and over, despite the way your walls come crumbling down when she's near you. You chalk your past weakness up to circumstance, it was only natural for you to willingly trust the girl who saved you and took care of you.

But you weren't hurt anymore, your wound, after a month or so in Jackson, had been reduced to a scar, a long stretching divet along the skin of your shin.

You decided there was no more reason to fold under her pressure.

--

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, it is hot." Nika groans, wiping her bare forehead with the back of her gloved hand.

"Want some water?" Kk, the girl with half-up twists asks her with amusement, holding out a grimy-looking steel bucket. The water inside is brown and murky.

"You're disgusting." Nika sneers, whipping her head away while Kk laughs, dumping the water all over the stable.

"This'll be you soon." Kk grins. "If you keep pissing Geno off, you'll be on horseshit duty."

“Geno loves me.” Nika snorts, shaking her head.

“Not if he swings by and sees how much work you’ve done.” Kk jeers in return. “Better hurry it up.”

Nika just grumbles, putting her body into it as she rakes fallen hay from the floor of the stable, a little bit away from Kk, who’s washing out each individual stall.

You’re outside of the stables, brushing off Sue. The horse’s brown coat is shedding thanks to the summer heat. You’ve luckily been placed on grooming duty.

“I wanna patrol.” Nika whines from her corner of the stable. “I’m tired of doing barn work.”

“Girl, don’t complain.” Kk rolls her eyes. “At least you’re not cleaning horse shit.”

“Yeah, well I can smell it.” Nika frowns.

“Join the club.” Kk kisses her teeth, splashing another bucket of water onto the stalls.

“Newbie’s got it easy.” Nika mutters under her breath, jutting her head in your direction. You hear the little comment, and it makes you tense. Kk mumbles something in return that you don’t catch, and suddenly you wish you weren’t assigned barn work at all.

It’s quiet for a bit till you hear the crunch of boots on gravel. Nika stands by you, watching has you brush off layers of hair from Sue’s coat.

“Must be nice.” She says. You just half-look at her, unsure what to say. She steps a little closer.

“You tired of barn work?” She asks. You don’t turn to meet her stare, still as sharp as the day you first met her.

“Not really.” You mumble.

“No?” She raises a perfectly shaped brow. “You’ve been here for like, a month. How many jobs have you worked?”

“One.” You say. Dawn had suggested working with the horses--hoove maintenance, grooming, braiding, bathing. You took the opportunity and stuck with it. The horses were spontaneous creatures, but they calmed beneath your touch. It gave you a little sense of purpose.

She nods, still staring at you intensely. “Planning on trying anything else?”

Her questions have an edge to them today. She and the other girl, Kk, tried their best to start conversations with you when you first came. They were energetic in a way that freaked you out a bit, so you hardly felt comfortable with their prying questions.

You didn't want personal relationships with any of them, you really didn't care to be friends at all. After a while the questions became occasional, and slightly dipped with malice. Playful malice, but malice nonetheless.

Like talking to you was predictable, like talking to a toddler.

“Maybe.” You shrug after some thought, swiping more hair off of the horse. The shaggy mops pool at your feet.

“Like?”

You meet her stare for a moment before looking back at your work. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe something in the greenhouse.”

“Think you could grow us some more pot?” She chuckles, and you let a sliver of a smile show.

“You know, the rest of us consider barn work punishment work.” She continues.

When you don’t respond, she keeps going. “But you like it a lot, huh? There’s so many other things you could do.”

You shed her another glance.

“The barn sucks.” Kk’s voice chimes in, now beside Nika, who’s in front of you now, watching. “It’s far from all the fun stuff. Smells like shit. Is filled with shit.”

“It’s okay.” You say.

“It sucks.” Kk frowns.

“About the pot.” Nika cuts back in. “You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” You mutter. It seems Paige hadn’t recounted everything about your three day trip with her.

“You do?” Kk exclaims, obviously surprised. Her and Nika share a look.

You finally turn to stare at both of them.

“Is it that surprising?”

“No…we just…” Kk trails off, glancing at Nika for help.

“You brought back all that shit and you haven’t even touched it.” Nika frowns. “It’s kinda shitty of us that we didn’t offer.”

“It’s fine.” You wave it off, returning to your grooming. “Not a big deal."

“So,” Kk hums. “You wake up, eat, come here to work. What else do you do?”

“Go back home.” You say. “Help out wherever Dawn or Geno ask me to.”

“And?” Nika probes.

“That’s it.” You say curtly, growing tired of the interrogation.

“You some lone wolf?” Kk asks, half laughing. It doesn’t seem belittling, moreso unsure.

Before you can think of a response, Nika cuts in. “You talk to Paige?”

You frown at this, unable to hold it back. She’d shown up to your house for check-ins a few times, but you made sure every conversation was shorter and shorter. Then you stopped answering the door, or you stayed at the barn longer. You hadn’t seen her in a few weeks.

“Not really.” You settle.

“Has she not checked up on you?” Nika frowns. “That’s not like her.”

“She did, the first few weeks.” You nod. “But I started working here more, doing little jobs around. Don’t see her much.”

“And how are the clothes?” Nika asks, eyeing your denim shorts and white tank, flannel unbuttoned and wrapped around your waist.

“They’re great.” You smile. “Thanks for that.”

“D’you like the posters I gave you?” Kk butts in.

“I don’t know who Lebron James is.” You hum. “But it adds something to the room.”

Nika laughs aloud at this, Kk just shakes her head with a smile.

“You know, I feel like I never see you around, Other than when we’re at the barn.” Nika says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She hums. “S’weird cus I feel like I see everyone.”

It's hard not to buckle under her stare. This game of twenty questions is unnerving. You'd been pretty isolated since you came here, intentionally, of course. You assumed nobody noticed.

“Hm.” Is all you say.

“You really always doing little jobs?” She continues.

You nod.

“She likes being busy. Let a girl live.” Kk snorts, turning to walk back into the barn.

“Just asking.” Nika frowns, but she looks at you further, like she’s figuring something out. She follows after Kk soon after.

You try not to look at her for the rest of the day.

-

SHE SHOWS UP at your door the next evening, a light jacket thrown over her crinkled t-shirt and muddy jeans.

“Nika.” You gape, eyes wide. You weren’t expecting her.

“Newbie.” She grins, white teeth glinting. “Get dressed.”

“For?”

“We’re going out, obviously.”

“I’m okay,” you begin, but she cuts you off sternly.

“Not a question. We’re going.”

“Where?” You frown. “With who?”

“Just some friends.” She shrugs. “Around.”

You frown at her. “I’m really okay.”

“I’m sure you’re okay.” She looks you up and down. “Didn't ask if you were, though. I told you to get changed.”

You open your mouth, then close it. She's pushy, big brown eyes prying you open, one hand on your front door. You consider shutting it in her face when she shoves it open further.

"Not sure what to wear?" She asks, stepping inside your house uninvited with a smile. "Don't worry, I can help."

"Nika, I'm not going anywhere." You say seriously, shutting the door and following close behind her as she glances around your house.

"You haven't decorated much yet." She quirks a brow.

"Yeah." You swallow tersely. You couldn't bring yourself to, you had no idea where to start. And the house still didn't feel like it belonged to you.

"Haven't gotten around to it." Is what you settle for.

She just shrugs, turning to walk down the stairs that lead to your bedroom. Despite your frustration, you follow.

She's already prying open your closet when you step into your bedroom, brows strewn in focus as she takes things off of their hangers and throws them onto your messy bed.

"You know, if you don't like any of these you can always trade them out for something else." She hums, holding a flannel and tank top together in thought.

"They're fine." You mutter, still annoyed at her presence.

"Clothes weren't much of a concern where you're from eh?" She asks you.

Clothes were assigned. There weren't many choices. You got what you got, that was it.

"Some of us had bigger things to worry about." You practically spit, foregoing your usual curt responses.

Her eyes narrow, though something satisfied glints in that pungent stare.

"Nobody is living easy out here, princess." She cocks her head. "Just because we have the liberty of being picky with our clothes doesn't mean we aren't roughing it out like everyone else."

"You realize how stupid that sounds, right?" You scoff.

"Okay, yeah." She snorts in return. "I get it, Jackson is probably a breeze compared to wherever it is you're from. But it's all born from blood. People worked their asses off, and people died to get us all the shit we have."

You hold her stare now, teeth clenched.

"People died so we could think about what to wear on a free night out, where our friends aren't on patrol risking their lives. So wear whatever the fuck you want, and if you dont like it, trade it out."

You understand where she's coming from. Point noted, not that you'll admit it. Instead you walk over to the closet and slightly shove past her to eye the contents inside.

"I don't need you to pick for me." You frown, finding an outfit that's thin enough for the warm weather without being too exposing.

Nika grins from behind you satisfied with your choice. In fact, she holds that triumphant grin even as you shoo her away so you can change, and eventually join her in your bare living room.

"What?" You snap, noticing her expression.

"Nothing." She shrugs, walking through the ground floor. "Just happy to see I was right."

"About?"

"You." She hums.

"What does that mean?" You glare.

"You're finally showing some spunk." Nika shrugs. "Some of the others were thinking you were...well, they thought you were donezo."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Donezo. Burnt out. Gave up. You know, some people can't handle shit. They break down, go all mushy." She continues. "They come here to live a new life, but they don't really live. Don't have a personality anymore."

"So why are you making me hang out with these people who think I'm donezo?" You cross your arms, offended. Going out was seeming like a worse and worse idea by the minute.

"Paige made it sound like you weren't." Nika hums. "And I believed her, even though you seemed like a total bot everyday at the barn. Braiding your horsies' hair and giving one-word responses."

There it is again, Paige being brought up, and the sizzle of vulnerability that comes with it.

"Just didn't wanna talk to you." You say seriously, but Nika laughs anyways.

"She's been asking about you, by the way." Nika grins. "Everyone has. We're all curious about you."

"Not much to be curious about." You frown.

"Bitch, you're kidding." She laughs. "Paige dipped for three days and came back with a chick our age, who has a sliced open leg and a backpack full of high-quality weed."

You try not to crack a smile.

"And then she's never out, only leaves the house to work or eat. Doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't smoke the shit she brought, never holds conversation. And Paige defends her mysterious ass every time someone says she's lost it." Nika adds.

"Okay, okay."

"And then today at the barn, you were getting snippy with me." Nika points a finger at you, still smiling like she's won a fight.

"Kk didn't notice, but I did. You were bugged. I finally thought, hey, maybe this chick is actually breathing. So I came over to see for myself if I was right."

"And?"

"And I was. I am." She smiles, hands on her hips now.

"So...there's no need for me to go out anymore?" You ask.

"Oh, that part is for real." She snorts. "Especially now that you wanna be sassy. We gotta show everyone you're not brain-dead."

"I'm not sassy." You grumble, following her as she begins to walk to your front door.

"You are," Nika hums, "just like Paige said you are."

You turn to shut the door before she can see the way your lips quirk upward.

--

THE THEATRE stands out so starkly compared to the rest of the town. The sky is dimming, string lights illuminated, streets growing more and more bare as you and Nika walk.

You pass by the bar, which seems to be filling up. You can hear talking and music, and the clinking of glasses as you pass. Up ahead are more flashing lights, the ones that belong to the theatre's flashy billboards.

"Are we watching a movie?" You ask.

"Not today." She grins. "The theatre has a different purpose after hours."

"Like what?"

Nika just shakes her head. You follow her as you step beneath the short ceiling of the entrance, past the deserted ticket box and into the building by a door that says employees only. It's darker inside the theatre, the floors are fuzzed over with dirty red velvet carpeting, the decor rusted gold.

"C'mon." Nika bumps your shoulder, motioning you to keep going. She pulls out a flashlight as you walk, pointing the white light at the big fancy numbers that differentiate every corridor.

"What the heck are we doing, Nika?" You ask, eyeing the darkness around you.

"Here, this one." She says, pointing her light at the corridor that reads 5 in big blocky letters above. She turns into the dark space, pushing open rusty doors as she walks. You follow close behind.

What follows past the doors is a sight to behold. The room is massive, covered in more velvet carpeting, a huge damaged screen like the kind people once watched tv on. Across from the screen lay hundreds of rows of seats, curving around the tv and sprawling through the perimeter of the room. There are little lanes between columns of the seats, steps for you and Nika to scale.

You can see a group of people sitting at the seats at the very top.

"Muhl! You're late." Someone jeers, laughing as Nika scales the steps before shimmying past a few seats and plopping down in one.

"Oh, and you brought newbie!" Kk smiles, nodding at you. Everyone looks at you expectantly. Paige sends you a little grin, motioning you to sit by her.

You decide to sit one row below her, beside Nika, so you both turn around to face the other girls.

"How you been?" Paige asks genuinely, blue eyes stuck on yours.

"Good." You shrug, and she waits for you to go on, shoulders sinking when you turn away slightly. The curt response makes the other girls share a glance. It's a quick one, but you feel it.

"So, what we celebrating?" Aubrey chimes in beside Paige.

"Geno's making P and I take a break from patrol." Ice hums. "Thank fucking god, because I am tired."

"Not our fault we're the best." Paige shrugs, smiling as she pulls out a plastic baggy from her short's pocket.

"Fuuuuuuck yes." Kk howls, causing the others to chuckle. The noises echo through the dim light of the theatre.

Paige opens the bag, gingerly taking out a pre-rolled joint and placing it between her lips. "All thanks to our newbie, who's got us stocked for a good few months." She says, jutting her head in your direction.

The others turn their stares to you in acknowledgment, Nika slaps your back.

"Nika." Paige mumbles, joint still between her lips. "Lighter?"

"Oh, shoot." She curses, tapping her pockets. "I forgot it."

Paige groans, taking the joint out of her mouth. "Jana?"

Jana takes one out, but it doesn't emit so much as a little flame. The group deflates.

"How does nobody have a lighter on them?" Kk groans.

"Nika, you always bring yours." Aubrey huffs.

"Okay, well don't rely on me so damn much." Nika rolls her eyes.

"I have one." You interject, pulling out a lighter from the pocket of your bottoms. You always had one on you.

The group is quiet, all eyes on you again. Paige just grins, placing the joint between her lips once more.

Nika is the first to break. "You're the best out of all of us." She sighs dramatically, shoving your shoulder. The others sing your praises, ruffling your hair and flicking your arm.

Paige leans forward a little, closer to you, breaking your surprise from the group's reaction and bringing your focus to her. Her eyes are wide, expecting, pink lips wrapped around the joint. A silver chain slips from beneath her t-shirt, dangling from her neck.

She's waiting. You flick on the lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of her joint. You hold her gaze all the way through, watching how the orange light brightens her face.

Finally she pulls away, leaning back into the theatre seat with her legs spread, two fingers reaching for the joint. You watch her chest rise, and fall as she pulls the joint away, tilting her head back so that all you see is her neck, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the plume of smoke that she exhales.

You look away from the sight of her before she can catch you gawking.

"Give it here." Nika says, holding her fingers out. Paige clicks her tongue, eyebrows raised.

"You forgot the lighter, so no." She says, meeting your eye once more. She leans forward again, arm outstreched.

She calls your name like a question, the joint glowing from one end, her brow raised in wait.

It's too easy to take it from her, to take everything she gives--no questions asked. So instead you shift in your seat, mumbling, "No thanks."

The girls around you deflate, shooting glances they pretend you can't see. She holds her look on you, carefully searching your face. You do your best not to give anything up. She shrugs, and hands the joint to Ice.

You watch as it gets passed from person to person, ignoring the feeling of Paige's eyes on you. The girls talk about trivial things, arguments with neighbourhood kids and easy kills while out on patrol.

Finally the blunt reaches Nika, who giddily holds in the hit before blowing it out, careful not to breath in your face.

"How bout you, newbie?" She grins. "Best kill?"

The girls eye you expectantly again, sharing looks between them. you can see what Nika meant earlier, they think you've given up. What's worse is you haven't given them reason to think otherwise.

Paige had been fending for you before Jackson, and hadn't stopped even when you reached safety. The thought is flattering but infuriating. If there was a time to sever ties, it was now.

"Give me that." You tut, unsheathing your usual demenor, the snip behind your words, the attitude.

You lean towards Nika, snatching the joint from her loosened fingers. She gives it up easily, smile rising on her lips at the tone of your voice.

As you lean back into your seat, you feel like the girls seated above lean back with you, following your movements, noting the change. You bring the joint to your lips, breathing in and feeling the smoke fill you with satisfaction before you exhale slowly, clouding your vison for a moment.

"My best kill," you mumble, savouring the last of the smoke on your lips, "was a few years back. I was on a job with a bigger group, kept having this bad feeling cus we hadn't ran into anything a few hours in. Of course, nobody listened to me." You snort, the sting of being disregarded still fresh.

"Caught the stalker early, before any of them noticed. Shot it twice with a crossbow. Once here," You say, bringing a finger to your forehead, "and once here." You finish, trailing that finger to the bare skin of your chest, just below your collarbone, over your heart.

They watch the way your finger travels down like they're hypnotized, dead silent.

Nika is the first to break from the spell of your simple words, eyes glinting triumphantly. You cock your head at her, and she nods. Damage done.

Paige is next, clearing her throat as she looks away from the finger on your chest, covering her mouth with a closed hand as she glances at her friends.

The rest--Kk, Ice, and Aubrey, nod in delayed understanding. Your story was simple, and consice, but they could gather enough information about you from that alone to grasp your capability.

"I hate crossbows." Kk finally says. "Heavy as shit."

"Long reload time." Aubrey nods, glancing at you carefully. "Gotta be fast to land two on a close target."

"I was fast." You hum, taking another hit and blowing it with a little smile. "I think I still am."

Wordlessly you raise your arm, offering the joint to back Paige, one seat above you. She takes it, fingertips brushing yours.

"What were you guys transporting?" Ice asks.

"I don't remember." You shrug. "Guns, probably. That's what it usually was."

"And where's your squad at now?" Kk chimes in. "You said you were in a group?"

You scoff. "Got into a fight with one of them. After that, I was only allowed to do jobs alone."

"Shit." She huffs.

"So, when Paige found you, you were on the job, delivering weed." Nika says.

"That's what I thought." You shrug. "Got set up, though. One of my old..." You almost say friends, but catch yourself. "..colleagues, fucked with my info. Changed the address, had one of her connections wait there for me."

They seem really intrigued by your story, heads cocked forward eyes wide despite the joint.

"So that's your favourite kill." Ice hums. "You're the type that kills em' like a robot, I bet."

"For sure." Kk laughs. "I thought she was gonna go crazy, talking bout' some blood all over her n' whatever."

Paige exhales smoke from your peripheral vision, passing the joint to Ice again. You can feel her bullet-eyes aimed at you.

"She's not messy like you." Paige says, a slight grin playing on her face. "She likes her kills clean."

You finally turn to meet her stare, brows furrowed slightly.

"How would you know?" You ask, even though she's right. It's the first you've properly spoken to her in ages. It irks you that she just comments about you like that, like she knows you deeper than the few days of weakness you shared with her.

"Cus' I've seen you when it gets messy." She hums. Her voice is low and matter-of-fact, calm and confident.

The girls surrounding you turn to share more glances, more unspoken words at Paige's comment. You feel your face burn at the unintended double meaning, but also at her seriousness.

"D'you miss it?" Nika cuts in, saving you from the situation. "Your old community. Was there anything better than Jackson?"

"No." You respond immediately. "Everything there was worse. I got used to it, I lived there for most of my life. They work us like dogs, leave us with nothing. Here, at least you work and get to live a little."

"Damn." Aubrey sighs. "Scuse' me for saying this, but I thought you were pretty fucking miserable over here."

"We was really asking Paige if she brought you here, or dragged you." Kk laughs.

You grin a little too, hiding it beneath your palm as you rub your face for a moment.

"Best thing here?" Ice asks you.

You think for a moment. "Having my own space. Horses. Decent food." You say.

"Of course she says the horses." Nika snorts, eyeing Kk who shakes her head in amusement.

"Did you guys not have separate housing?" Ice gawks.

"Nope. We got smushed into these sweaty-ass bunks. It was hell."

"Sheesh." Aubrey huffs. "How'd you guys hookup?"

"Literally everywhere else." You laugh. "On the job, mostly. Nobody watches you out there. It's easy to sneak away from the group and...take a break."

"No wonder you at home all the time." Kk smiles. "I'd be a homebody too, if I never had my own room before."

"You hiding someone in there?" Nika raises a cheeky brow. "Maybe she's taking extra advantage of her new hookup spot. Don't gotta fuck on grass or against a tree anymore."

Everyone bursts into CBD-enhanced laughter at that, every giggle echoing through the wide space of the theatre.

"Oh, I got one." Paige finally chimes in, still smiling. "Craziest place ya'll have ever hooked up with someone."

"When you say hookup...what are we talking about." Ice asks.

"Like," Paige thinks, catching your eye for a second before breaking with embarrassment. "Like more than making out. anything further than that."

"Tipsy Bison family bathroom." Nika says immediately, grinning as her friends boo her loudly.

"That's the bar not far from here." She adds amidts the boos, to which you nod.

"Roof of my house." Aubrey says shyly, covering her face as soon as she says it. Kk shakes her shoulders, teasing her, as everyone else laughs and comments.

"Kinda romantic." You hum.

"Sounds uncomfortable." Paige counters.

"It was both." Aubrey huffs.

"Okay...guys I'm basic. Literally just like, against a wall? I dunno." Ice sighs, accepting the boos you all throw at her.

"Kk?" Paige asks.

"I'm not answering this." Kk scoffs with extra put-on attitude. "Cus I'm not a devil's child like you guys."

"You say that as you hold a joint." Paige snorts, smiling when Kk tosses the now-bud away without hesitation.

"Okay P. It was your question, so answer." Kk narrows her eyes. "Actually, I don't think I wanna know."

"Hm." She bites her lip, adjusting her seat on the velvet chair a little more, getting comfortable. "Like, prolly on patrol."

"Oh, what the fuck!" Nika squeals. "You and Azzi? Was I there? This is so wrong."

"You were off somewhere else." Paige snorts. "It wasn't anything crazy, just a quick little...you know, anyways, doing it outside isn't too bad."

You recognize the name, asking Paige before you can think to stop yourself, "Is Azzi your girlfriend?"

She seems surprised that you're asking her anything, eyes widening slightly before she shakes her head. "She was at one point, but we're better off as friends. She's out on an expedition right now."

You half nod, looking away from her before your mind can get ahead of you.

"So, newbie." Nika juts her head in your direction. "You really be doin' it outside?"

You break out into an embarrassed smile at that, shaking your head as the girls begin to coo and holler at your reaction. Paige's eyes burn the most, you make a point not to look at her.

"Okay, okay." You huff. "Yeah. My craziest...um..."

"C'mon. Spit it out." Kk jeers.

"It's not that bad, but uh. Yeah, I've done it like, against a tree. A few times actually."

"Nasty." Kk frowns, eyeing Aubrey, Ice and Nika, who laugh their asses off.

"I don't think that's my craziest, though." You sigh. "There was one time...in our artillery shed."

"The fuck?" Nika guffaws. "Like, where all the guns are n' shit?"

"Yeah. It was actually kinda hot. I was on this table, literally surrounded by all these weapons and bullets...I dunno, it was a thing." You mutter, the words practically tumbling out of you. You feel a little light on your feet, mouth running more than it usually does.

"You're crazy." Aubrey groans, cringing at the thought.

"Yeah, I'd be scared." Ice nods.

"She likes high stakes." Paige shrugs, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Of course, miss get-freaky-while-on-patrol-with-me has no issue with it." Nika rolls her eyes.

"Maybe ya'll are meant for each other." Kk adds with a laugh. The comment makes your jaw go slack, you immediately grind your teeth to wipe your face of any reaction. There are trivial laughs all around you, from everyone but you and her.

You can feel Paige above you, and the moment her attention shifts to you. It makes your stomach flutter.

You keep your face trained on Nika, and try to forget Paige is there at all.

--

COLD SUMMER AIR nips at your fingertips as you walk back home, night sky clear, Nika by your side.

"You didn't have to walk me home." You say, glancing at her.

"It's no big deal." She smiles. "You live close to me anyway. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah." You grumble. "I guess I did."

"Girl, don't be like that." She snorts. "You had a damn good time. I'm gonna bring you every time we meet up now."

"And how would they feel about that?" You ask.

"First of all, don't care." She says seriously. "Second, they like you."

Now it's your turn to scoff. "I thought they thought I was donezo."

"Not after tonight, they don't." She grins, that signature sharp-eyed stare cutting you thin. "Now they know you're good with a crossbow and you like getting fucked surrounded by guns. You're not donezo."

"Stop." You squeal at her recount, shoving her lightly. "I can't believe I actually told everyone that."

"It'll be more personal next time." Nika hums. "We're gonna pry you open."

"Gross, don't." You tut. "Let me be closed."

"S' no fun that way." She responds. "But seriously, nobody in Jackson is a mystery. Doesn't matter if you avoid everyone and play with horses all day. People are gonna know you eventually."

"Okay, okay." You groan. "I get it, alright?"

"Good." Nika says, suddenly serious. "And what's up with Paige n' you?"

You stop in your tracks. "What?"

"What'd she do to you?" Nika stops too, brow raised. "You act like you don't wanna be around her."

You consider spewing a white lie, but you know Nika's eyes catch everything.

"That obvious?"

"To the others, maybe not." She shrugs. "But to me? Yeah. And to her? Fuck yeah."

"Has she said something?" You ask.

"No. She wouldn't." Nika says. "So what is it?"

"It's nothing, really." You say, and it's the truth. Your reasons for distance aren't malicous or fulled by something she did, they're just for your own peace of mind. To guarantee you're careful.

Still, Nika stares. The same way she did at the barn, like she's got you figured out. "Did you hook up with her?"

"No! I barely know her!"

"You know her." Nika says. "She's not some complex character, what you see is what you get. You spent three days with her alone. You know her."

"We didn't hook up." You snap.

"Okay," Nika grins. "so, what then? You look like you're in pain everytime she talks to you."

"I'm not." You frown, finally turning into your yard. Nika follows you to the door, watching as you open it up and step inside.

"Whatever." You huff. "Thanks for today. It wasn't bad."

"It's fine. You're a part of Jackson now, so it's only fair you experience everything, not just the barn." Nika grins, holding your door open.

"Yeah, sure. What's next, we smoke in the farmer's market?" You scoff.

"Hey, we drink too!" Nika laughs.

"But really." She continues, a little softer.

"You don't have to be afraid of people knowing you, okay newbie? There's nothing in you that isn't worth knowing. Jackson is different. We rely on each other, n' you gotta know your people to do that."

"Okay." You nod, taking in her words. It makes sense to you, this place is different from the last. There's no competition, no hidden motives. People here work to live, not live to work.

"I'll try." You settle.

"Good." She smiles. "I'm always here to help...and regardless of what's going on with Paige, she's here too. If there's anyone here I'd want to know me best, it'd be her."

"Really?" You ask.

"For sure." Nika nods seriously. "Because she's the best of us. She cares more than anyone else here, more than Geno and Dawn, even. It's hard to trust people, but trusting her will do you good."

You shift on your feet. You'd witnessed that selfless care first-hand, so you know it's no fluke.

"It's...hard." You mumble. "Hard to be around people who notice everything. Who know you wordlessly."

"It gets better with time." Nika nods, like she knows it all too well.

"Sleep good tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at the barn.

"Yeah." You shoot her a small smile. "See you."

You watch her wave and walk away, the night sky hanging heavy on the landscape. Today was a leap you didn't think you'd ever take, but it didn't feel as wrong as you thought it would.

The shared blunt, the laughter and teasing. It was natural, a warmth that you haven't felt in too long. Paige is dangerous, too kind, too good. It scares you, makes you feel like you're not in control, makes things messy.

Distance is safe, cleaner, colder. You know it well.

You strip off your clothes as you head to bed, dousing your face with cold water and flopping onto your mismatched sheets with a sigh. It's hot in Jackson, the summer leaks through your walls, makes you sweat, ignights you like the end of a blunt.

Friendship is new, messy, warm.

--tags

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld

[squinch-depraved]

idea: schlatt and you trying some special sex chocolate and accidentally take way more than you mean to and the effects r starting to take place 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐏 anon

oh this is yuMMy. delicious. scrumptious, even. thank u to 🐏 anon for being my first ever ask ily mwah i hope this is good i've never used these chocolates before but i might have to 🫣

coming home from a long day to your boyfriend's empty apartment was not what you were hoping for. you were hoping to come home to him watching something on the tv, rotting on the couch in his usual comfy clothes, playing with his two sweet cats, and just waiting for you to get home. in your mind, he would have sprung up to greet you the second the door opened, gliding through the apartment to place a tender kiss on your lips as he picks you up and twirls you around. but the unnerving silence you actually did come home to rips you from your daydream before he can place you back down on the ground and gush about how much he missed you. the cats finally skitter up to you, meowing and trilling in a way that lets you know they're absolutely starved for attention (he's been gone maybe 20 minutes, probably). cooing at the sweet babies as they butt their heads into your legs, you pet them and settle in for the night.

after having changed into one of his shirts and deciding pants weren't worth the effort, you stumble into the kitchen to grab a snack. lucky you, your perfect boyfriend had left a plain gold box of 12 wrapped chocolates on the counter! no labels, other than a little logo in the corner, but a small note was stuck onto the top of the box, reading: "take ONE - be back soon toots" along with a heart. you sigh contentedly and tear into the box. you hadn't had much time to eat today, and you were sure your boyfriend who loved to spoil you would be fine with you having more than the allotted amount of mysterious chocolates. what's the worst that could happen, they're edibles? at least then you'll have a story to contend with ted's!

the first chocolate melts on your tongue, leaving an almost rosy flavor behind that you can't quite get enough of. you debate if this'll be worth the punishment, but the chocolate was impossibly good, so you decide to go in for one two three more before dancing yourself down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. feeling slightly warm, you lay down in the middle of your bed and put some random video on the tv, dozing off a few minutes later. your job was exhausting, he'll get the hint you're sleeping and come find you when he gets home to a silent apartment. see how he likes it.

but he doesn't come home to a silent apartment. whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, echoing down the hall from your bedroom's open door. his eyes immediately dart to the little gold box on the counter, eyebrows shooting up in an oh, fuck motion when he sees the four wrappers littering the surface. he quickly drops his stuff where it needs to go and pops two chocolates in his mouth himself, figuring he'll need help keeping up with you after how many you've had, before quickly walking to the bedroom. the sight that awaits him leaves him standing in the doorway for a while until he finally decides to wake you up.

you lay there, babbling in your sleep, random phrases about how good something feels and how close you were. mostly incoherent horny gibberish. your (his) shirt has ridden up a bit, panties visible and soaked as you writhe unconsciously, desperately trying to get friction from a pillow, the blanket, something, anything. it makes him smirk, and he watches you for a moment before sitting down and gently stroking your cheek.

"y/n," you hear. "doll, c'mon, i gotta take care of you." you slowly come to, and once you process that he's here, he's back, you jump him. pulling him down to kiss you before attacking his neck with little nibbles until he pulls away, a stern (yet amused) look on his face. "i told you one. ONE. piece of chocolate."

you hide your face in your hands. "what the fuck did you do to me, j?? i thought maybe they were edibles or something, but this doesn't feel like a normal high? i'm sorry, i know i shouldn't have eaten them now but oh my god, what did you DO to me? i feel like a feral, ovulating, cavewoman or some shit!!" you whine, earning a laugh from him.

"they're sex chocolates."

you move your hands and look at him. "sex chocolates," you repeat.

he nods.

"why the fuck wouldn't you say that??" you smack his arm.

he grins and replies, "thought the mystery would be sexy."

"i mean, inadvertently, yeah!" you sigh, amused and frustrated all at the same time.

he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. "i took two to keep up with you," he breathes into your ear.

you hook your legs around him and pull him as close to you as you can. "then let's go! c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you pant as you grind up against him, groans spilling from his lips. "fuck me! touch me! something, j, please, i'm begging you," you plead, kissing him frantically all over his chest and neck. hands exploring under his sweater and dragging nails down his back, arching your back and moaning without him having to even do anything, he swears he's never been this hard.

the first time you cum, it's from his head between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit and sopping pussy like a man deprived of water for days. he keeps going until you're crying, begging him for another kind of stimulation besides his thick fingers ramming in and out of you and his chops brushing against your purple-marked thighs. the second time you cum is also from his masterful mouth, and this time he listens when you say you can't take it anymore. he drags himself up to look at you, kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, and slowly pushes himself into you as you whine and squirm.

round one, he starts gentle, slowly working his way up to a medium pace, where he starts fondling your chest. once he really gets going, though, he's spitting on you, choking you, and rubbing your clit with his thumb all while pounding into you at an incredible pace. "so good for me, toots," he growls, fucking into you almost inhumanely now. all you can manage is a whimper. you cum once more before he pulls out and makes you suck him off til he finishes, grabbing your hair and guiding you up and down, and then really far down before cumming down your throat.

ten minutes of making out later and round two starts with him shoving you down, hands and knees, so he can shove himself into you from behind. something about the recoil of your ass makes his brain short circuit. he brings his hand around to your clit again and it's not long before you're screaming that you're about to cum again, and he smacks your ass so hard you know it's going to leave a mark and says, "fuckin' cum for me, you stupid slut. can't listen to directions but i bet you'll follow that one, huh?" through gritted teeth. you cry out and collapse as your fourth orgasm rips through you. he holds you up long enough for him to somehow speed up before filling you up with his pearlescent seed.

you both lay there for a second before he kisses the back of your head and pulls out, leaving to go get you some water and then help you to the bathroom. you make a mental note to always eat more than one of those chocolates and sigh, finally feeling satisfied.

[keithyp00]

The Very First Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: longing, nostalgia, reconnection, second chances, bittersweet joy, soft reunion, emotional intimacy, kissing, implications of sex

Song Inspiration: The Very First Night by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 824

Author Note: Hi again! Hopefully I'll be able to keep a schedule going with posting but I have my APUSH exam for school tomorrow so this is my good luck post to myself to make me feel better. Hope you enjoy and thanks for the continued support!

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

You hadn't seen Bucky Barnes in two years.

Not since the mission that split everything apart. Not since you chose separate paths- different coasts, different causes, different people- because neither of you were ready to stay still. Or maybe, because you were both too afraid to try.

But here you were now, standing in a hallway that buzzed with bad overhead lighting and too many memories, waiting for a man you tried desperately to forget.

Until you couldn't anymore.

The door opened.

And just like that- two years collapsed.

He looked the same. A little more tired around the eyes. A little scruffier. Broader, maybe. Still devastatingly handsome.

"Hey," he said softly.

Your throat was too full to answer. So you just smiled.

______________________________________________________________

Two Years Ago- The Very First Night

The hotel room in Belgium was nothing special. Beige walls, humming radiator, one flickering lamp.

But you still remembered everything about that night.

The way Bucky looked at you from across the room- half smile, hair wet from the shower he had taken, feet bare on the worn carpet.

The quiet conversation shared over whiskey and strawberries that were bought from the hotel's little corner store in the lobby.

The way his laugh- low and rare- filled up the space like music. You'd leaned into him, arms brushing, knees touching.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You'd whispered.

"Because I know," he replied.

"Know what?"

"That this'll be the night I'll think about when I miss you."

You'd kissed him then. Soft, slow, and unforgettable.

The rest was a blur of heat and tenderness, hands memorizing each other like it would have to last a lifetime. Because, deep down, maybe you both knew it might.

______________________________________________________________

It wasn't messy when you parted.

No fights. Just two soldiers fighting different wars.

He was rebuilding in New York. You were chasing ghosts in Europe. You promised to stay in touch. But promise like that rarely survive the drastically different time zones and aching hearts that came from late nights alone.

Still, on certain nights, you'd pull out your phone. Reread old texts. Replay voicemails. Watch the grainy video you took of him singing off-key at 2AM when you were both drunk off your minds.

Once, you even dreamed he was beside you- his hand on your hip, whispering stupid jokes into your hair into the late hours of the night.

You woke up crying the following morning.

______________________________________________________________

Now, back in the present, you sat across from him in a quiet cafe.

Everything around you felt too loud.

"I didn't think you'd come," Bucky said, his voice low.

"I almost didn't," you admitted. "Thought maybe it'd hurt too much."

He nodded. "It does. But not seeing you again? That hurts more."

You looked at him then, really looked- at the man who still carried the weight of the world, but now sat with shoulders that were just a bit looser.

"I missed you," you stated. A breath. Then two. "I missed us."

His hand reached across the table, slow and steady. "I still think about that night," he said. "The very first one. The real one. It ruined me, you know."

You laughed, soft and fond. "Why?"

"Because no one else ever felt like that. Like home."

______________________________________________________________

You walked the city together after that.

Passed the old record shop you once ducked into during a thunderstorm. The bookstore where he read you poetry in a gruff whisper. The street corner where he kissed you like the world was ending.

He turned to you once you both reached the park, stopping in your tracks collectively.

"I thought maybe, if I saw you again, I could be just... your friend. But I can't."

"Bucky-"

"I don't want to forget. I don't want something new. I want you."

And despite everything- the time, the pain, the years apart- your heart whispered the same truth it had screamed in silence every night. I want you too.

You kissed him under the streetlight.

Slow. Hopeful. Like you'd been waiting two years just to remember how it felt.

And he held you like he'd never let go again. And this time- he didn't.

______________________________________________________________

Months later, you were in a new apartment. Shared. Full of photos and plants you kept forgetting to water. Bucky was sprawled on the couch, reading a book that you didn't recognize, most likely from a period you didn't really know.

"You know," he murmured, catching you staring, "we never really got another 'first night.'"

You smiled. "Maybe not. But we got a second chance."

He grinned. "And I'm not going to waste it."

You joined him on the couch, curled into his side, heart full with love for the boy you really got to know in a hotel room in Belgium and the man he grew into.

And this time, there was no leaving. Because now- you had a love worth staying for.

[xoxojisu]

THIS IS FALLING IN LOVE.

synopsis: falling in love with chigiri hyoma is slow. it's quiet. but it's sweet, and it's easier than you could ever imagine.

notes: chigiri is one of my bllk favs and i never talk abt him. HES UNDERRATED JUSTICE FOR HYOMA </3 i feel like fanon chigi always gets mischaracterized so i hope this is canon chigiri core. maybe this'll kickstart my bllk writing again..

it doesn't happen all at once.

it’s not some grand, cinematic moment where the wind and sun catch his hair just right and suddenly you’re in love. (though, you’ll admit, the hair thing is very distracting.)

it happens slowly. quietly.

when you first met him, he seemed simply like a quiet, introverted guy. it wasn't that he didn't talk, but it seemed like he just chose his moments carefully. he seemed polite and well-kept. you thought he had nice hair, but didn't think much of him beyond that.

it started the first time he talked back.

you'd teased him. something about his princess hair routine taking longer than practice. you expect him to offer a polite, awkward smile or a light chuckle, but he instead gave you a deadpan look before saying,

“yeah, sorry i like not smelling like gym socks. can’t relate?”

you blink.

he raises a brow.

you try not to let your jaw drop.

and then he smirks. like he knows he got you.

that’s when it starts.

-

after that, you start looking for it. the way he leans into sarcasm like it’s second nature. it's subtle. like it just slips out naturally. it surprises you at first. the way he says things that make you pause and go wait. was that flirty..? or mean..? (it’s both)

and it’s addicting.

he’s not just pretty. he's not just quiet. he's not just thoughtful. he’s funny. and competitive. and weirdly good at comebacks that have you reeling in fake anger but also leave you red in the face for hours after.

“is this your idea of flirting?” you ask once.

he shrugs, tossing his water bottle into his bag and tugging out his hair tie in one fluid motion.

“if it was, you’d be obsessed with me by now.”

little does he know that you already are. you probably have been for a while. but he doesn’t know that yet, and neither do you.

-

the real unraveling happens in the small moments.

how he always takes the time to stretch now after you'd scolded him. not just because he's told to, but because it seems like he really wants to take care of all of him now. you watch him learn to be gentle with himself. (he might be a little too gentle now, though. the princess.)

how he pulls his hair back with care, like it’s armor and comfort all at once, the beautiful cherry hue glistening.

how he doesn’t talk a lot, but when he does, it’s never wasted.

you learn his moods. the difference between "quiet because he’s tired" and "quiet because he’s thinking too much." you learn when to sit next to him and say nothing. you learn when to nudge him until he rolls his eyes and softens.

the more time you spend with him, the prettier you realize he is. his hair is a given, sure, but his eyelashes are also unfairly long. they're thick, too. he looks like he's wearing mascara all the time. his skin is perfectly clear and his eyes are the most gorgeous shade of pink. they resemble two twinkling rubies. you think he looks like someone's muse. like he's painted in watercolor with wind blowing through his hair and cherry blossom petals falling all around him all the time and for no apparent reason.

he lets you in so gradually that you don’t even realize you’re already there. part of his rituals, his routines. you don't notice the shift with the way he starts to tease you more and linger longer.

“you’re always around,” he says once, voice low and lazy. you'd just finished doing face masks together, and were now searching for something to watch. you're both ignoring the nonexistent space between you, opting to wordlessly shift closer.

"does it bother you?" you ask, studying his following facial expression carefully.

"nah," he replies quickly. maybe a little too quick. "just noticed it, i guess."

you shrug, “maybe i just like being around you.”

he tilts his head. studying you. not in a dreamy way. in a real way.

“yeah,” he says eventually, “i think i like it too.”

-

you fall in love with him one glance, one witty reply, one quiet kindness at a time.

and when he falls back, because he does, he makes sure you know.

he doesn’t say it with flowers and chocolate.

he says it when he sends you skin care recs at midnight.

he doesn't say it with a poster board and a rose petal pathway.

he says it when he sits a little too close and doesn’t move away.

when he says, “you make things feel less heavy.”

and it’s then, only then, that you realize.

you’ve been falling in love with him for who knows how long.

and he’s been catching you the whole time.

masterlist

[thunderbolt-ing]

"I Can't Do It Alone." — 2

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary: Behind every flop congressman is an aide frantically keeping everything together. Or in which Bucky is scheming and dragging you along with him (for emotional support? who knows) Warnings: no warnings. just tension so thick you can drown in it. A/N: a little canon compliant if u squint, but I'll be tweaking things around to fit my silly little narrative. idk how long this'll be, i didn't plan for this to be more than two parts but it's going to have to be ;) sorry for taking so long I'm very critical of myself and i think i re-read this 30453049850 times Word count: 3123 words. consider this as me giving u a smooch for the love on the first one.

Several Months Later Capitol Hill — Washington, D.C. 

You followed closely behind Bucky, your hands clasping a thick docket, as the two of you weaved through the packed halls of the Capitol. The soft tap of your heels was muffled against the thick carpet, a stark contrast to the noise of reporters that awaited you just ahead. A swarm of reporters was already gathered and slowly closing in with their cameras raised and microphones poised like weapons ready to strike. 

As the two of you stepped further, the press surged forward. Flashes burst like strobe lights, and a barrage of voices clamored for Bucky’s attention. You glanced over at him and saw the tension crawl up Bucky’s spine. It was slow, you watched his shoulders stiffen in real time, and there was a slight falter in his step that was only noticeable to you. For all the fights and danger he’d been in, nothing seemed to knock the wind out of him like the press. His jaw tightened, and instinctively, you reached out and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. A silent reminder that you were there with him and he wasn’t alone. He didn’t look at you, but you felt the tension on his shoulders ease just slightly beneath your fingers. Then, like clockwork, you retreated to the background, letting the gladiator enter the arena. 

“Congressman Barnes! Any comments ahead of today’s hearing?” one reporter barked, microphone inches away from his face. 

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard. His expression flattened into something unreadable, and for a second, it looked like he was on the verge of shutting down. Still, he pushed through, and that was something you secretly admired about him. 

“Well,” he started, his voice flat, “I’m not on the impeachment committee, but the rumors of wrongdoing are very worrying.” He paused, glancing around with visible discomfort before his eyes landed on you. You gave him a small nod to continue, “They are very, very concerning and worrying,” he repeated, his words subtly spiraling. He looked at you once again, and you gave him a desperate shake of your head, signaling him to take another approach. “—and my Brooklyn constituents deserve better.” He added quickly, and you gave him a nod of approval and a small signal to wrap it up. “So,” he finished with a pained smile, “we’re going to get to the bottom of this… worrying issue.” There was a small pause as silence and a look of confusion was shared amongst the reporters. You let out a long sigh. He almost landed. Almost. You gestured for him to make an exit while the reporters were in a confused daze. He took it as a lifeline, muttering a rushed “Thank you,” before practically bolting toward you. 

“That was… painful,” you murmured once he was within earshot. You both turned toward the courtroom with him on your side. “You said ‘worrying’ three times, Barnes. That was a cry for help.” 

“I blacked out halfway through,” he muttered with a frown. “Did I really say it three times?” “Twice with confidence, once like it physically hurt.” You replied, a smirk dusting your lips as you stifled your chuckles for his sake. 

Bucky groaned, tugging at his tie uncomfortably, “Think anyone noticed?” “Only the entire national press pool.” You cast him a sidelong glance, unable to hold back a chuckle any longer. “But, we’ll work on it. If you’re going to spiral on camera, at least throw in a fake statistic. People love those.” Bucky sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, “You love this, don’t you?” “Live for it.” You replied, your tone tinged with teasing and amusement. “Watching the indestructible Winter Soldier reduced to a nervous mush by a few well-dressed journalists with boom mics? Priceless.” He shot you a look, his expression equal parts amusement and mock betrayal. “I fought Nazis, you know.” “And yet CNN almost took you out back there.” You deadpanned.

Bucky let out a chuckle under his breath as he shook his head, “Why did I hire you again?” “Oh, I believe it was because I ‘speak the truth, even when it's uncomfortable, and you couldn't look away’—” You slipped into a mocking tone as you recited his note from months ago when he was trying to hire you as his aide. His eyes narrowed in warning, but you were already halfway through. “—‘I don’t believe in perfect timing, I believe in showing up’. Very poetic stuff.” 

He groaned again, this time dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, enough. How do you even remember all that?” You shrugged, trying to suppress a grin spreading across your face. “Because it was weirdly sincere and oddly flattering. You gave me flowers and wrote your little note in cursive, which made it feel like a Jane Austen confession.” “I was trying to be professional and convincing.” He replied flatly. “Yes, because giving pink tulips and pink roses to a potential legislative aide is super professional and convincing.” You replied, chuckling fully now as both of you entered the courtroom, making a beeline for the back row. “You’re ruthless.” He mumbled as he sank into his seat. “That’s why I’m your most trusted advisor and aide.” You replied, sitting beside him and immediately pulling out your notebook as the hearing began. “Remind me to fire you when this is over.” He grumbled in mock annoyance, which only fueled your teasing. “You won’t.” You grinned confidently, not sparing him another look as you focused on the panel of judges calling the hearing to order and inviting Valentina Allegra De Fontaine to introduce herself. “Yeah… I won’t.” He muttered softly under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear right before your elbow nudged his side, silently telling him to pay attention.

You were out of your element here and rightly so. Your expertise was in handling veteran soldiers, navigating policies, and managing political shit shows, not parsing the science behind super-soldier serums or deciphering government protocols for modified human beings. The panel’s technical jargon and superhero-related discussions went in one ear and out the other, but you kept your head down, diligently taking notes and marking the bits you’d ask Bucky to explain later. 

It was one of the many reasons you worked so well together. You filled in each other’s gaps like two halves of a hole. When Bucky didn’t know the first thing about policy writing or how to push a bill through committee, you were there with color-coded folders and an ultra-specific to-do list. And when you were completely lost in conversations about quantum weaponry, Wakandan tech, or interdimensional anomalies, he was there patiently walking you through with that quiet, steady voice of his. 

It was a strange, intricate, and maybe even impossible balance, but somehow, the two of you made it work. 

“So you’re saying, you think she’s… making super-soldiers? Like you?” You asked, struggling to comprehend why De Fontaine was on trial in the first place. You two were back in his D.C office now, the heavy weight of the hearing lingering in your head. You were pacing around, trying to make sense of everything you’d just sat through. 

“No, worse,” Bucky replied, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the neat slick-back he’d been sporting all day. “She and O.X.E. aren’t just making soldiers. They’re trying to create God. That’s what Project Sentry is.” “Jesus Christ,” You breathed, the weight of his words sinking in, “That’s the most morally and ethically fucked-up thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Bucky didn’t answer right away. His expression had shifted, his look distant and calculated. A look that meant his mind was already ten steps ahead, quietly forming a plan. 

“You think they’ll find something on her?” you asked, more softly now. 

Still, he remained silent, his expression unreadable. 

“Don’t get tangled up in that mess,” you warned, stopping abruptly in your tracks to face him. One brow arched sharply, nearly reaching your hairline. “You hear me, Barnes?” 

Later That Day Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History — Washington, D.C.

You were already packed and ready to head back to New York when your phone rang. 

Bucky. 

His voice was low and unusually insistent as he urged you to delay your departure. He mentioned a gala at the Smithsonian, claiming it was an important event for networking and maintaining political ties. 

You were skeptical, of course. Bucky never willingly attended high-profile social events. His usual public appearances were limited to outreach programs, press briefings (his least favorite), or the occasional town hall. He attended events with a clear purpose, not shallow ones with tuxedos and champagne flutes, so this was new. Suspiciously new. Of course, against your better judgment, you stayed. It wasn’t your money going to waste, anyway.  

The car pulled up in front of the Smithsonian, its sleek exterior catching the glittering lights from the museum’s grand facade. From inside, you glanced out at the impressive architecture and the elegantly dressed guests filtering through the entrance. The gears in your mind were already turning, trying to piece together what kind of event this truly was and why Bucky was so insistent on attending. 

Before you could reach the door handle, it opened from the outside. Bucky was already there, standing just out of view until now. He extended his hand toward you without a word, his hand steady and with the ease of a gentleman. You blinked at him and hesitated for a second before you took it. The contact was brief and barely more than a moment. His grip was warm, firm but careful, and he helped you out of the car like it was second nature to him. He stayed silent with just the quiet rustle of fabric and the faint click of your heels on the pavement filling the quiet. 

But as your hand slipped from his, you noticed something. His fingers twitched once and immediately curled into a fist at his side before he smoothed it away into nothing, like something lingered from the touch. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even look at him, but the image of that small movement—so human and unguarded—burned itself into your mind without permission. 

You took a long inhale and adjusted your coat, willing the sudden awareness away. No matter how much you tried, it was burned into your mind. 

The dress you wore was simple, a black cocktail dress that you’d packed away without thinking paired with a simple string of pearls. It was elegant and understated though you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place from the glittering glam of the filtering guests. It wasn’t your usual style, everything else you’ve packed was all business; tailored suits and practical heels. 

You weren’t used to feeling observed, but something about Bucky’s gaze made your skin prickle. It was silent and unreadable and you were usually able to read his expressions most of the time. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile or tease. He just looked at you like he saw something he hadn’t before. Then, he looked away, his expression shuttered like nothing had happened. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything, and yet, it didn’t feel like nothing. 

You stepped into the cool, polished air of the Smithsonian. In the background was the distant hum of chatter echoing through its grand marble halls. The lighting was low and elegant, casting soft shades of gold onto tall columns and glass display cases. Just inside the entrance, an usher handed each of you a glossy program, a folded booklet that listed the evening’s speakers, special guests, and highlighted key artifacts that were carefully placed throughout the exhibit. 

You barely register Bucky’s quiet thanks to the usher before he began guiding the two of you into the crowd. He moved with quiet confidence, weaving effortlessly through the clusters of guests and servers carrying silver trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. You followed a step behind, your attention fixed more on the booklet in your hands than the people you were brushing past. 

The title page named the event as a gala commemorating first responders during the Battle of New York and the Chitauri Invasion. You flipped through it slowly, each page detailing artifacts, accounts, and archival photos, some of which you recognized from museums in New York as well as stories Bucky passed on to you from his friend Steve Rogers, the famed Captain America. 

But when you turned the last page, your footsteps faltered. There, was a name you hadn’t expected to see: 

Curated and Hosted by Valentina Allegra De Fontaine. 

Your fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the program. 

Without a word, you reached out and caught Bucky’s arm. He glanced back in surprise, you didn’t give him a chance to open his mouth before you tugged him off the main floor and toward a quieter corner of the museum. 

“What did I say about getting involved?” you asked, keeping your voice low but firm. There was tension behind your words, but it came more from concern rather than anger. He recognized it.

“Ah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he offered a disarming smile that attempted to soften the blow of being caught red-handed. “You caught on.” 

You crossed your arms, fixing him with a look that made him shift slightly under your gaze.

“Barnes—”

“Look,” he interjected, more gently this time. “I just need your help, alright?” There was something quieter in his voice now, like a silent plea. “I know Valentina’s guilty. They searched her and came up with nothing, but I’m telling you. She made everything disappear. Every trace of it.” 

You let out a long, weary breath, the kind that came from knowing better and still caring far too much. Still, you listened. You always did, no matter how insane he sounded sometimes. 

“She’s got an assistant,” He added, nodding toward the main floor. You followed his gaze to a younger woman trailing closely behind De Fontaine with an iPad clutched tightly into her hands. “She’s green. Malleable. I think can get her to see what’s really going on and maybe get her to our side.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “But I need you to talk to Congressman Gary. Get him to actually listen.” You arched a brow, arms crossed and slightly unconvinced. 

“So let me get this straight. You’re going to charm your way into the assistant’s conscience while I somehow convince Gary, who thinks he’s got it under control, to take your word seriously?” You gave a dry, skeptical smile. “Right. Perfect. Easy enough.” 

“He’ll listen,” Bucky insisted, surprisingly confident. “You’re good at the political talk thing. You’ve got a way of… cutting through the noise.” 

You rolled your eyes, but his words warmed you all the same. 

“And for the record,” he added, his tone bordering defensive, “I’m not charming the assistant. If I did, there’d be flowers and a note. You know… like I did when I…” The moment his words left his mouth, his expression faltered imperceptively as if he realized too late what he’d said. Instead of lingering, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd before you could say a single word. 

You stood frozen, heart thudding unexpectedly in your chest. Your mind immediately drifted back to months ago when he had left a bouquet outside your apartment door with a note that helped sway your decision to be his aide. You chalked it up to persuasion and pure politics. 

But now? Now you weren’t so sure. 

You shook your head, willing the heat rising in your cheeks to disappear.

It was nothing. 

Just Bucky being Bucky. 

That’s all. 

At the end of the gala, you and Bucky reconvenned in the same quiet corner you’d pulled him into at the beginning of the night. The expression you both wore said everything: uncertainty, mild frustration, and the sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, the plan hadn’t landed neatly as the both of you hoped. 

“Gary wasn’t entirely convinced,” you admitted, your voice low and contemplative. “But he let me talk for more than three minutes. That has to count for something right?” 

Bucky sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know if I got through to the girl either,” he said, shoulders slack. “She took my business card and said it looked like trash. I think she was joking.” 

That earned a soft laugh from you, the tension between you easing just enough to breathe. 

“Well,” you said with a half-smile, “we did what we could. We planted the seed. Now we just wait to see if anything grows.” 

Together, you stepped out into the cool night, walking side by side down the Smithsonian’s stone steps as a valet disappeared to fetch Bucky’s car. Despite the fading sounds of the gala slowly dying down behind you, your thoughts lingered to something he said earlier. The words had taken root in your mind, and no matter how much you tried, they wouldn’t stop echoing. 

“So about—” “I moved you to a red-eye flight,” he cut in abruptly, eyes glued to his phone as he forwarded your updated itinerary. “I hope that’s okay. I know you planned on leaving earlier.” 

You hesitated, just for a second. You thought about bringing it up again, but his interruption made the decision for you. 

“Yeah,” you replied, brushing off the feeling of something you didn’t want to name. “That’s fine. The sooner the better. We’ve got that outreach on Wednesday, and I need to finalize everything by tomorrow evening.” 

His car pulled up and without a word, he circled around to open the passenger door for you like it was by instinct. 

“Outreach on Wednesday. Got it,” he echoed, though his tone had drifted. He was half-present and already distracted. You knew his mind was still on Valentina. 

You glance over at him once you were both seated, the city lights flickering across his face as he drove through the traffic. His vibranium hand gripped the steering wheel tightly that you could hear it whirring.

“Hey,” you said gently, your voice softer than you intended. “Maybe it’s for the best that things didn’t go exactly as planned. Valentina isn’t someone you should be prying into anyway. Gary made that perfectly clear.” 

Bucky didn’t respond right away, his gaze steady on the road ahead. He looked thoughtful, but not convinced, though his grip on the steering wheel loosened.

“No more of this Mission Impossible stuff, okay?” you added, a note of hope in your tone. 

“Yeah,” he said finally, “Okay.” 

But you didn’t believe it for a second, and neither did he.

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No one: Bucky:

brb i have to scream. taglist (pls let me know if you want to be added!): @seraphine-ann @cyberjawz @serumandsteel @hiraethmae