#trying to wind frank up

[kdheaven]

her little smile <3 for @darcyofmine

[dullahandyke]

that reminds me i need to watch any and all adaptations of tcomc with eugenie in them. badly. even the ones where they straightwash her like gankutsuou. i miss her i miss her badly i need to reread tcomc i miss ittttttttt the adaptations are so overwhelmingly focused on the romance which impacts the revenge plot to the degree that morcerf is elevated to the primary antagonist above danglars and villefort and caderousse because where the others also wronged edmond, morcerf did it for the purpose of stealing his wife, which is the ultimate wrong in the eyes of a romantic story. there's not a great number of ways to condense a 1200 page story to a movie of a reasonable length, but i wish so many didn't make the genre shift to romance. it's been done before! there are other angles to explore it from! make a movie focused on the younger generation like albert and franz and beauchamp and have the main plot going on in the background! refrain from showing any backstory at all and only show how we get to the downfalls of the villains! i love mercédes, but cut the romance, i am begging you.

[ceramicbeetle]

comrade in arms pt 2 is kind of funny for hawkeye’s flat “oh yeah” for casual sex fans followed by his ‘im going to killing my self’ facial expression when margaret wakes up and tries to start LARPing a long term romantic relationship with him

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd  have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you  that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your  nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. 

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your  fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your  own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your  legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your  earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your  eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another  fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you  while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether  all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your  rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your  cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you  want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your  orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your  fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your  and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your  whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your  body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your  lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your  lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your  hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your  pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your  tongue around the head, taking it into your  mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your  tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other  hand gripping your  shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your  mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your  shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your  gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your  eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your  mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your  mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your  finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your  body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your  laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you  on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your  from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your  shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your  ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your  pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your  inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

[quickestgold]

Still Life: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: Jack always expects the unexpected, both as a doctor and a partner. But when your water breaks during a citywide blackout, the pressure to deliver your baby safely grows with each contraction, trapping you, him and Robby in a single, still moment of life and loss.

Warnings: Angst, as always; Pregnant reader; Features a graphic, traumatic birth > Similar to the birth scene in the show. Pls don’t read if this sounds too heavy for you!! (everyone lives)

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: Yes, this is a cliché baby-born-in-an-elevator story, but the show gave us Abbot/Robby x Elevator and Collins mentioned getting stuck while giving birth, sooo what can I say, we're here now, aren't we. Something something about the enclosed space being a metaphor for birth etc. I’m also very passionate about raising awareness for birth trauma / birth related injuries + these are my emotional support sad boys, so I had to… Enjoy <3

“I’m not giving my baby an old white guy name” you deadpan, leaning against the nurses' station, glancing up at the board with a playful grin. Ellis and Shen chuckle at your honesty, Princess and Perlah enjoying the show from a distance.

As if summoned, “Oh I know you’re not talking about us” Robby counters, him and Jack suddenly appearing next to you.

“Well I know she’s not talking about me!” Jack adds lightly with that dry humor you love so much.

"All I'm saying is, Frank is a great name for a little boy." Langdon argues from his side of the station, hands on his hips. "Frankie. Frankie Jr., the possibilities are endless..."

You roll your eyes, though you can't help but smile fondly at the camaraderie, a warm feeling growing in your stomach.

Though it might be something else.

"Maybe we should go for a name that doesn't sound like he's already retired", Jack quips, his eyes meeting yours. Something about the way you're leaning against the station, catches his attention, worry flickering in his eyes.

The storm outside has been growing since the start of your shift, a low rumble in the distance interrupts the friendly work banter.

As if on cue, you feel another tightening in your lower abdomen, this time a sharp stab that makes you wince. You brace yourself against the counter, careful not to let anyone notice.

You're 40 weeks pregnant, but you know it's not active labor... yet.

Jack is already so prepared, so meticulous. You don't want to worry him more than necessary.

“Well, my vote’s for something classic”, Robby says cheerfully. “Like, um… Robby. Simple, strong.”

"Good thing you don't get one." Jack raises an eyebrow as he steps behind you, putting an arm around your waist instinctively. With ease he holds up your belly, taking some of the weight off your back. He gently pecks your cheek, whispering into your ear. "You okay?"

You lean into his embrace, taking a breath of relief, as you feel the pressure building inside you again.

Before you can respond, the storm outside shifts from a distant rumble to something more urgent. You hear the first crack of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning that lights up the hospital windows.

“So much for having a quiet night”, Shen laughs.

You instantly shush him, loudly. Everyone's reaction's are instantaneous, Princess and Perlah cursing in Tagalog.

Ellis: "Fuuuck!" Langdon: "You always do this!"

As usual, Shen manages to jinx whatever team is unlucky enough to work his shift.

The elevator doors close with a jarring ding. The tightness in your belly flares again, but you grit your teeth and try to ignore it.

Jack and Robby stand by the doors, arms crossed, like they're guarding something precious.

You lean back against the cold metal walls, the tightening growing again, unable to find a position that's comfortable.

Even in this enclosed space, you can hear the wind howling from outside. The lights flicker, then, without warning, the power cuts out entirely, as the elevator halts to a stop.

You hear Robby curse as the emergency lights turn on, their blue glow casting everything in a surreal light. The elevator now feels even smaller, almost womb-like.

Fuck.

You groan softly, hoping Jack doesn’t catch on.

But of course, he does.

“What was that?” He turns to look directly at you, concern written across his face.

You avoid his gaze. “Nothing, I’m fine."

You say it so unconvincingly, you almost laugh at yourself.

���I can see that.” It's the same skeptical tone he uses with Santos and the other interns. It's charming actually.

“When did you start having contractions?” Robby asks, like he’s already claimed you as his patient.

You hesitate, but there's no point lying. “This morning.”

“You’re joking.” Jack is by your side in a heartbeat, torn between putting a hand on your belly or pulling out his stethoscope. Torn between being doctor, partner or father-to-be.

“I’m okay. Really.” You try to reassure him, gently touching his forearm.

That’s when you feel the warm liquid rushing down your legs, a puddle growing beneath you.

Jack and Robby's eyes drop to your feet, then up at each other. They exchange a look, no words needed. This is happening.

“I- I didn’t realize…” You breathe, dazed.

“You didn’t realize you were in pain?” Jack asks, incredulous.

“I’m always in pain, Jack", you bite back. “Ever since you knocked me up!”

You groan, turning around to lean your elbows against the wall, letting your head drop. Your breath is already ragged.

Jack’s hand finds your back, rubbing slow, grounding circles.

“I’m not having our baby in an elevator…” you pant.

“I’m afraid, we are, love.” Jack whispers gently, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

You let out another sharp groan.

“I need to examine you. Is that alright?” Jack’s voice shifts into professional gear. He pulls gloves from the pocket of his trousers, swiftly slipping them onto his hands.

You nod, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

He lines up behind you, slipping a hand into the back of your scrubs and reaching down.

Once he’s measured with his fingers, Jack’s eyes flick up to find Robby’s, a mixture of panic and surprise flashing across his features.

Robby reads him instantly. He steps in without a word, steadying your shoulders. His grip is firm and reassuring.

“What?” You gasp.

Jack leans in close to your ear, voice soothing, but urgent. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your already burning cheek. “Honey, listen to me. We’re having this baby now.”

You groan again, louder this time.

Robby’s frown line softens, his lips forming a genuine smile. He and Jack share a warm look, full of excitement.

“No. No!” You shake your head. "Not here."

No prenatal bag. No birthing playlist. No epidural.

“I need to have a proper look, okay?” Jack says calmly, though his hands move quickly.

“Wonderful." You laugh through a groan. "This’ll make a great story for group therapy.”

Nothing says professional boundaries like giving birth in front of your boss.

“I won't look." Robby promises, quickly turning away. "But I am a doctor, you know", he chuckles.

"Not mine, you're not." Your lips form a playful smirk. "This will do wonders for your patient satisfaction scores", you add with a wink.

The air suddenly feels a bit lighter.

Jack kneels down, gently parting your legs and slipping your pants down to your knees.

His eyes widen, before whispering. "You're in active labour, baby", his voice softer now.

Robby doesn't hesitate, rushing to the elevator doors, trying to pry them open. With a metallic screech, they slide just wide enough for people to pass supplies and equipment through. But you haven’t quite reached the next floor.

“Not enough to get her out,” Jack mutters.

You lean forward and peek through the small opening.

Your cervix is probably bigger than that…

“Dana!” Robby yells.

Dana appears instantly, dropping to her stomach to peek inside. She finds you leaning against the wall, pants down, legs shaking. Jack holding you up.

“Jesus. Y’all got terrible timing you know that!”

“We need fresh gloves, blankets, a BOA kit, baby warmer, fetal monitor, anything you can pass through.” Robby orders.

Dana’s already on it, shouting over her shoulder.

Jack turns to you again. “Do you want to sit or get on your knees? What feels more comfortable?”

“I- I don’t think comfortable is the word I’d use right now." You groan. "Feels like I’m being split open front to back.”

“I know. I know." Jack’s hands are already guiding you down. "Let’s get you on the floor okay?”

You drop to all fours.

It’s so goddamn hot.

Your hair sticks to your face, salty water stinging in your eyes, the vein in your forehead threatening to pop.

You tug at your scrub top and Jack understands instantly, pulling it over your head. You sway back and forth, now only in your bra, nothing else.

Groaning. Panting. Cursing.

Jack is beside you, gently massaging your back. He moves with you, trying to match your rhythm.

He’s grateful Robby takes command, barking orders to the team above, in full doctor mode. Focused, clinical.

“You’re doing so good.” Jack whispers.

Another contraction rips through you.

Jack glances at his watch, then over to Robby, who places a surgical blanket on the floor, hooks you up to cables and machines to monitor your and the baby’s vitals.

You curse loudly. “What the hell did you do to me, Abbot!”

“I’m sorry. You can do this.” He takes your hand, squeezes. “Let's meet our boy.”

The next contraction comes fast, stealing your breath. Jack doesn’t need to look at his watch, he knows.

It’s time.

Robby positions himself behind you, breaking his earlier promise. But you forgive him, if it means having your husband by your side and not two doctors competing for who's running this.

“She’s crowning.” Robby announces. His hand applies gentle but firm pressure, to keep the baby from delivering too fast and to prevent tearing.

Jack’s hand trembles slightly in yours.

“Y/N, I can see the head. I need you to push on the next contraction okay?”

You nod your head, almost frantically.

Jack takes a deep breath, for both of you, instructing you to follow his rhythm.

A deep, guttural growl tears from your chest as you push.

And push again.

The sensation overwhelms you. The burning, the tingling, the stinging.

The ring of fire.

“That’s it. Catch your breath before the next one.” Robby's steady but kind voice anchors you. “I need one more big push. Three, two…”

Jack’s voice is soothing in your ear, but you barely register it. You’ve never experienced anything like it.

You’re not even fully in your body anymore.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours?

You feel another contraction approaching, but Robby suddenly halts you.

“Stop. Y/N, don’t push! Not this time."

“I- I have to.” You groan, almost sobbing.

“No.” Robby's voice is low, sharp.

Jack’s head snaps up.

Something's wrong.

“Baby’s shoulder is stuck on your pelvic bone. I need to release it.”

Jack turns pale, tightening the grip on your arms, preparing for the inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” Robby mutters, but before you can react, his hand breaches your entrance.

The pain is unimaginable.

Is he rearranging your organs?

You scream into Jack’s chest, muffled and desperate. He tightens his arms around you, attempting to ease your pain.

“J- Jack…”

“I know, I know, I’ve got you.” Jack's voice breaks. “Robby…"

“Hang on…” He's still rummaging in there.

"I'm sorry", tears streaking down your face. You look up to find Jack's eyes. "This is my fault... I should've-"

“Look at me. Hey,” Jack says, commanding your gaze. “We’re okay. You hear me? You and me. We’ve got this.”

“What’s going on down there?” Dana shouts from above.

“I need you to lie on your back, Y/N” Robby instructs. But before you can register his words, Jack has already flipped you around. Your bottom lowered against the floor, Jack sliding behind you to brace you in his lap. His arms wrap around your legs, pulling them up and in.

“Lean into me, baby.” Jack’s voice is soft. He closes any distance between you. Practically melting into your body.

“Okay”, Robby breathes, applying suprapubic pressure. “Let’s take a deep breath.”

You feel his hands, firm against your lower abdomen, pushing the baby downward.

“Dana! Call Dr. Ingram, from the NICU, we need him.” Robby shouts towards the elevator doors.

You swallow hard. “Please... Please tell me I'm not having a fucking c-section in an elevator.”

Robby glances up briefly. His voice is low, focused. “Not planning on it.”

He reaches in again, one hand sliding beneath the baby’s head, working carefully to release the shoulder.

Another sharp stab rips through your abdomen. It feels like someone's clawing their way out from the inside, making your vision blur.

“Fuck Robby!" You cry out, voice breaking. "Please stop.”

Though you know he can't.

“Got it.” He suddenly announces. “On the next contraction, you push again.”

Your head feels light, but you know you can’t give up. Not now. Not yet.

3, 2, 1….

You push. With everything. Every muscle. Every breath. Every part of your being.

Until...

A sound cuts through the air.

Crying. Tiny, fragile, crying.

Not yours.

Not Jack’s.

Definitely not Robby’s.

Your eyes snap open. And there he is.

Your baby boy.

Robby lifts him carefully, umbilical still attached, assessing, drying and finally, placing him gently on your chest.

You can feel an unfamiliar but indescribable warmth flood you.

A sob escapes your lips, but this time not from pain.

You've never felt a love like this. Pure and sweet. Instant.

Jack leans in, showering your forehead in kisses, then your boy.

“You did so good, my love." Jack whispers. "So fucking good.” He wraps a blanket around you both, trying to shield you from the cold, from the storm, from everything.

Robby watches the three of you, his own emotions evident in the way his eyes glimmer in the light. He waits a few moments before he's back in professional mode, clamping the cord and letting Jack cut through it.

But they know it's not over. You do too.

You feel another contraction coming…

"The placenta", you murmur.

Robby nods. “One more push for me. Ready?”

He presses into your lower abdomen, a familiar pain ripping through you again.

“There we go." Robby says quietly. "Congratulations mom and dad.”

But...

The moment of bliss suddenly turns into horror.

The world around you starts to fade.

You feel Jack’s arms tense as Robby rips your baby from your chest, passing him through the narrow gap in the elevator doors to Dana’s waiting hands above. You feel the cold breeze against your exposed chest, the loss of warmth from your boy.

What the fuck is he doing? Skin-to-skin is supposed to be longer than this!

You want to argue. Shout at him, but your body won’t let you.

Why are you lying flat on the floor? Where's Jack?

You stare at the ceiling. Your heart starts to race.

You know what this means.

You hear Robby’s voice change. Tighter. Urgent. Then Jack’s voice joins him, both of them shifting into clinical, practiced motion.

Massive blood loss.

If they can’t stop it you’ll need a hysterectomy.

Or worse.

Their words are distant, blending into the chaos of your wandering mind.

“Spike a liter of saline.” “Starting uterine massage.” “Dana! Two units from the blood bank.” "Balloon is past the cervix."

Panic rises in your belly. It travels up to your chest, then your head.

Robby’s movement are frantic now. Jack's too, eyes wide with terror.

Their hands are on you, moving, pushing, pulling, trying to keep you from slipping away.

Jack drops to his knees beside you, instantly at your face, cupping your cheeks with gloved hands slick with sweat and... blood? “Hey,Y/N? Hey.”

You blink slowly, your breath shallow.

“What- what if we name him after my dad?” Jack suggests with an unserious grin.

His deadbeat, boys-don’t-cry, toxic-masculinity-in-person father?

Another time you’d have burst into laughter. And that’s what he’s trying for. A reaction. Anything.

You blink up at him, your lips twitching. It’s a fragile smile, but it’s real.

"Michael.” You whisper.

"I'm here", Robby reassures, working steadily.

No. You gesture weakly. "Th-the baby. Mikey for short."

There’s only one Robby, so that’s the next best thing.

You and Jack want Robby to be the godfather, though he doesn't know yet. He's an important person in both of your lives. And now he's brought your son into this world.

You're glad he's there. For you. And your boys.

Especially if this goes badly...

Jack snorts, but quickly realizes you’re serious. Robby's eyes widen.

“Yeah. I like that.” Jack says softly, nodding, overwhelmed with love and fear.

Jack gently places an oxygen mask over your face, hands trembling as he brushes the soaked hair from your forehead, trying to comfort you in any way he can.

Your eyes flutter open, finding his. Memorizing him.

Jack leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, whispering things you don’t hear.

Then he feels it. The absence of your breath.

The stillness.

A moment frozen in time, reflecting the fragile balance between life and loss.

Jack's eyes shoot to Robby's, desperate.

But Robby doesn’t stop. Not for a second.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back.

Back to Jack.

Back to your boys.

And he wiiilll. As promised, everyone lives. But I had to end it here - for the drama lolz... Pls lmk what you think <3

Part 2: Still Alive

[mysterymachine67]

PAIRING -> Frank Castle x M!reader

SUMMARY -> You can’t get enough of his puppy eyes.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

I blame @godjustkys. I couldn’t find a third picture, so we’re going with two 🤲🏼

The first time you saw that look, you were ready to drop everything and give him all you had. You’ve known him for a while, yes, but never payed attention that closely. When it happened, Frank had just gotten back to your shared apartment. All bloody, dirty, and nearly filled with gashes and other wounds that looked nasty. You had him sat down while you cleaned him up—patting at the small cuts with a wet washcloth. Then going in and stitching up all the bad ones. As you pierced the needle into his skin, you looked up at him—a quick glance to make sure he was okay. And when he looked at you? Ohhhhh, your heart ached. You swallowed then looked back down. Taking a few breaths to get your breathing right before continuing to patch him up.

Ever since then you’ve been thinking about it. Not being able to get it off your mind no matter what. Only soon finding yourself looking at him more closely every so often, itching to see that look again.

Luckily, with how you had him right now, you were sure you were gonna see that same exact face you saw the other night.

��☠︎︎𓆪

You held a tight grip on Frank’s thighs. Holding onto them as if your life depended on it. His legs were hooked over your shoulders, tensing when you hit that spot within him. “Relax, Frank,” you cooed. And he tried. With how the night had went for him, you wanted to help him wind down, relax. And was it working? Barley. Only because no matter what you did, or what you said he couldn’t seem to just let himself go. But when you leaned down, forcing his knees to touch his shoulders, and whispered into his ear, he was gone. Hole clenching around you, and legs attempting to kick. Which was useless. “Fuck!” He groaned. Jaw clenched tightly. Frank’s eyes were shut until they weren’t. First looking up at the ceiling—trying to get himself right before making eye contact with you. Because he knew the moment he did, mercy wouldn’t be in your heart anymore.

The longer your cock hit against his sweet spot, the more noises tend to flee from his mouth. Which you absolutely loved. Then finally, Frank turned his head to look at you. Eyes locking onto yours while yours locked onto his. All the thoughts that hurried to your head, all soon went down to your cock. You leaned in to kiss him. At first soft and passionate before getting more hungry and heated. Your thrusts went from slow and deep, to quick paced and rough. His hands shakily made their way to his thighs, holding himself up for you. Which made it a lot more easier for you. With every snap of your hips Frank let out a moan. Keeping eye contact with you as long as he could before he had to pull away. He’d press his lips shut, only letting out hums and low groans. Deciding to shut his eyes and move his head to the side. Why become to difficult all of a sudden?

You noticed, but you also noticed how his back was arched perfectly, and how he struggled to keep up this act. His cock leaked and dripped, pulsing, and twitching at how close he’d gotten within just a few minutes. “Lemme hear you. Hear how good ‘m making you feel.” Frank shook his head, tried to. When you noticed you scoffed. Switching your angle so that all that your cock hit was his prostate. That got a few sounds out of him.

His hands began to ache. The sheen of sweat all over his body making it difficult to keep holding his thighs for you. Frank huffed, a small whimper sneaking its way past. Without a thought his hips moved up slightly. A quick buck. You haven’t been paying attention to his cock, yes, you knew that. But would the added pleasure help him? Of course it would. Plus, your hands were free. So, you moved a hand from somewhere on Frank’s body, and placed it on his cock instead. In response, Frank let out a drawn out, loud groan. Which you smiled to yourself.

He squirmed, his hips not knowing whether to buck up or move away. The sounds he let out were like a beautiful melody that you wanted to keep hearing over and over again. You knew the moment he let go of himself and grabbed onto you, he was cumming. He tried to move himself down onto your cock even more, but at the same time thrust into your hand. Wanting, no, needing more. But all you could give him was harsh, deep thrusts till you came. And when you did it was with a moan, filling him up with your cum. After a few long seconds, you pulled out and looked down; getting met with the sight of your cum leaking from his hole.

You cursed under your breath, picking your head up to look at Frank. Who laid there, breathing heavily with his eyes shut. You leaned back over him—running your hands along his body once more. And when you got close enough you kissed him on the lips then mumbled:

“Did you really think we were done?”

[leahkenobi]

porch light

frank castle x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: inspired by porch light by josh meloy. frank made a promise: come hell or high water, he would always come home to you. he intends to make good on that.

warnings: mentions of blood, partial nudity, slightly self-loathing frank. mostly fluff.

a/n: well well well. fulfilling the fanfic author cliche of “i have literally been through hell since my last update. so sorry i fell off the side of the earth for awhile.” to keep it vague, losing someone really made me lose my desire to write. while the wound will probably never heal, for the first time in so long, i’ve felt like i could do this again. and who better to bring us back then frank motherfucking castle. please excuse the writing it’s been so so long. but, if you would like to be added to a frank taglist, lmk and i will happily add you. no promises of how often i will make updates bc school is actually kicking my ass, but i’m trying!

picture was taken from pinterest! credits to the owner!

with the wind knocked from his lungs and blood still dripping from his face, frank had one mission left to complete before he could collapse: get home.

he made the promise long ago when you had moved into the quaint house in the suburbs with him.

no matter how ugly it was, how badly he was injured or how empty he felt, he would make his way home to you. night after night, he kept his promise, only breaking it when he was away for a multi-night event, like this past one.

but he had sent you the text, so he couldn’t go back on his word now.

i’m coming home baby. leave the porch light on.

his bones felt like lead as he heaved himself into his truck, a two hour drive ahead of him until he would see you. his reason, his heart, his everything.

———

your past few nights were hauntingly quiet. no sounds of clatter from the kitchen as frank cooked for you both, no soft hum of the television as he watched one of his documentaries, no quiet breaths as he slept next to you.

on nights without him, sleep almost always evaded you. it’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s not even that you were particularly worried about frank.

of course, there would always be anxiety with the line of business he was in. but you knew him. not even a bullet to the head could take him out. a symbol of strength and perseverance, he was nearly indestructible in your mind.

it was the lack of his heat that kept you awake until the wee hours of the morning. the absence of his smell, so strong of cedar and masculinity that made it impossible for you to find rest. the missing arm that he draped over your waist as you slept, a constant weight and reminder that even in sleep, he would never let anything get to you first. he would throw himself over your body and take a thousand shots to his back before so much as a shot gun bead could penetrate your skin.

around eleven, as you lie lounging on your couch, caught up in one of frank’s many books, the familiar buzz of your phone startled you out of your story.

a message from an unknown number sent anxiety through your bones. until you opened it.

you saw the words and relief passed through your body.

i’m coming home baby. leave the porch light on.

you knew who it was instantly. a small smile spread across your lips.

you typed out a short message back.

will do.

———

the two hour window between the text and frank’s arrival felt like eternity. your mind filled with questions.

would he be covered in blood?

would ahe be silent like he always was after a particularly rough night?

did he succeed on his little quest?

finally, the firm sound of boots on your creaky old steps fell upon your ears and interrupted your constant internal monologue of questions. you were instantly on your feet, reaching the front door in record time.

you stared at him. even from your poorly lit porch, you could see the sheen of blood on his face.

he lifted his head and saw your familiar silhouette.

god, he’d fucking missed you.

“hey baby,” he graveled out.

“frank, honey…” you started as you went to meet him on the third step.

you reached him in a second, hands instantly coming to his face. you needed to feel the rough stubble of his beard and the contrast of his soft skin.

“hey, hey..” he whispered, gently removing your hands from his face and placing them on his shoulders instead.

you leaned into him, head resting against that stony chest of his, absorbing the heat of his body, enraptured in the scent of gunpowder and blood and him.

he kissed the top of your head, seamlessly melting back into the man he was with you. the patient, gentle man who’s only wish was to keep you safe and tend to your every desire.

“missed you so fuckin much baby. couldn’t get here fast enough,” he softly said, gently pulling you out of his chest and tilting your chin up to him.

your eyes met his, melting that roughness he had carried back with him with your one look.

“missed you too frankie. cmon let’s get inside,” you said, grabbing his hand and leading him off the porch and through the front door.

the smell of home nearly made his heart burst as it reached his busted nose. the flowers he had bought you before he left, his favorite pasta dish you had likely made for dinner, the laundry that you had folded up neatly now lying on the couch and you. he nearly groaned as he felt it all surround him.

he dropped his bag just after you had closed the door behind him, letting the weight of the past few days slip off him.

“let me,” you said, bending to untie his dirty old boots.

“i got-“

“no frank. let me take care of this,” you told him.

a small grin graced his face. of course you wanted to tend to him. always giving, always soothing. how could a man so thoroughly fucked up as himself ever deserve you? ever deserve to come home to all of this?

you tapped his ankles, indicating your completion of the task. he slipped them off and reached down to grab your hand.

“thank you,” he said, “you don’t need to-“

“you stubborn, stubborn man. just let me help you,” you smiled.

god he shouldn’t be this lucky. not after all he’s done.

“kay baby,” he relented, letting you do what you always did for him. make him feel.

———

you led him upstairs and into the bathroom and turned on the hot water for him.

he unfastened his belt and dropped his pants. as you turned back toward him, you gave him a soft smile.

“c’mere,” he let out, pulling you back into him. he couldn’t get enough of this. feeling you against him. warm, safe, home.

you slid your hands underneath his black henley. he allowed it, let you pull it up over his head. allowed you to run your nails over his tight abs as his muscles tensed.

“get cleaned up. i’ll go warm up the leftovers-“

“nah don’t worry about it. not hungry. just want you,” he said meeting your gaze beneath his, keeping his arms around you, his bare skin against your clothed form.

a yawn crept out of you, your darkened under eyes becoming noticeable to frank as he looked at you closer.

“go get in bed sweetheart. be right there,” he said as he released you. you let him be, closing the door gently on the way out. you knew he needed that time alone, needed to let the heat of the shower wash away his newest sins.

———

you stripped from your clothing, clad only in your underwear, and slipped under the sheets.

after a few minutes, frank opened the door attached to your bedroom and came out in his boxers, the steam from the shower wafting out after him.

he saw your form bundled beneath the thick comforter and felt everything fade from him. every ache in his body, every pain in his heart, all the rage he kept buried inside. it just… dissipated. because there was his girl. sleepy eyes locked on his, trying so hard to stay open. body wrapped in god knows how many blankets because you were always “so cold, frankie. you’re my heater.”

this was what he came home for. this angel of a woman, the beat in his fucking chest.

he slid under the blankets, exhaling a sigh of relief.

it took him less than a second to reach for your body and pull you into him. he indulged his desire to have your skin on his.

you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of irish spring soap. you’d lost track of how many times you’d told him he needed more than just one bar of soap for everything.

he kissed the crown of your head and another yawn escaped you.

“i got you now, baby. just sleep,” he said.

“g’night frankie. so glad you’re home,” you said sleepily.

“no where i’d rather be,” he responded quietly, slowly shutting his eyes and allowing sleep to overtake him.

taglist:

@crumbledcastle28

[wrenisrad]

I Prefer Hiding in Plain Sight

pairing: Azriel x Reader (mainly towards the end)

word count: 1k

c/w: angst, feelings of inadequacy, they're idiots your honor

“Life may shift,” You recall Rhysand telling you, after you had barely turned twenty, surrounded by your friends�� your family, who had serenaded you with a horrendously off-pitch rendition of Happy Birthday. “But we will forever be that same, count on it.”

And as much as you wished you could have relied on the comforting words of your friend, they had failed you, slowly, but surely they turned into something different. Something unrecognizable. Gone were the days of simplicity, laughing at Rita’s, or having a Sunday dinner with everyone in attendance. 

Now, handed to you on a brandished, dirty plate, were days of being brushed off and constant cancellations made of weak excuses, a; “Feyre wanted to have a night in,” “Elain wished to go for a walk,” or the simplest, “Nesta needs me.”

 It seemed as if the presence of the ever-shining Archeron sisters dimmed your own light, leaving you abandoned and rusted. All of the love and time you had given your family, left to rot. They had left you to rot. 

It was to be expected, you had had a gut feeling whenever Mor had brought the two elder Archeron sisters to the House of Wind, when, despite your injuries as severe– if not more so as theirs, everyone had rushed to them. No matter how hard you would attempt to convince yourself in the middle of the night, that you were ‘just getting used to them’ or the like, there was always a lingering pit of jealousy that would slowly rot in your heart every time you were excused. 

Even now, sitting upon the ledge of a hidden cliff, legs dangled along the side– something that would have sent even Azriel into a spiral a mere two years ago, you had been left alone. To be frank, you weren't sure anyone noticed you had left. Not when a part of you could practically feel the joy reeking from the house, making your nose curl. 

In truth, you hated yourself for it, for the jealousy and pettiness. It felt dirty, making your insides burn with the feeling that you were being childish, that you were being ridiculous. The thought circled over and over in your head until it had made it spin, forcing you to shove your thumb against the middle of your brow bone. 

Though a cool, soothing tendril follows, wrap around your finger and lessen the sharp pain. Opening your eyes to find the source of the alleviation, you see a silken shadow shyly curling in on itself, a kid caught reaching into the cookie jar, not the weapons of destruction and peril most saw them as. Though, as endearing as the shadow was, it could only mean one thing.

Azriel was here.

“What do you want?” You murmur softly, looking down and dragging your fingers against the scattered pebbles around the cliff, plucking one up and flicking it, listening to the satisfying click…click..click as it ricochets off the base of the cliff, attempting to fill the void of the silence. 

“Checking up on you,” A familiar rumble, Azriel sits himself beside you and tenderly wraps a wing around her. “Are you alright?” 

“Just…peachy.” You grit out, trying not to curl in on yourself just like his shadow had just done, trying not to seep up the warmth of his attention. As you reach for another stone, Azriel gently picks up your hand, running a thumb over the back of it. His eyes look up at you kindly, expectantly. This is where you usually lay all your cards on the table, where you tell him that you’re not okay and that everything hurts. 

A part of you screeches to fight it, to take your hand back and look away. But the louder, gentler part of you yearns to soften into his touch. 

And so you do. 

You curl up to his side, burying your face into his shoulder and letting out a shaky sigh. Wrapping your arms around his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut, fighting the warm tears threatening to seep from your lashes. 

“I love you.” Azriel murmured softly, stroking your thigh, causing rapid flutters in your stomach. “You’re my best friend, and you will never not be my best friend.” 

“Then why are you never around?” You croak out weakly, wincing at the desperation in your voice, it's unnerving. 

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Azriel began, “Maybe because I felt a duty to Rhysand and Feyre? But even so, I still let this happen.” “You’re fine, Azriel.” You murmur, barely noticing him tense at the use of his full name, rather than an affectionate ‘Az.’ Even tense, he still found the strength to soften, just for you. Pulling you even closer, he lays his head against yours, lips idly resting on the crown of your forehead. “It’s not fine, love. It hurts you, and I refuse to do so any longer. Because you mean everything to me, alright?” He whispered, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “I'll talk to Rhysand, why don't we go to Svenda’s tomorrow, just us?” 

It wasn’t revolutionary, but it was a start, and that was the most important thing. “Alright.” 

At your agreement, Azriel smiled, a quiet, genuine smile. The two of you sat in comfortable, golden silence for an unknown amount of time. The tense atmosphere melting into intimacy and nearness, the warmth of it all making your eyelids heavy, eventually drifting to sleep. 

When you woke in the morning, you were tucked into bed, just how you’ve liked since you were a child. Eyes blearily scanning the area, before landing on a note, propped up on your bedside in a comfortingly familiar script. 

I’ll meet you here before Svenda’s, 6:00 pm. Wear something nice.

And you swear your heart did not flutter. 

©wrenisrad on tumblr

reminder that plagiarism is illegal

A/n: sorry if its rough, I haven't actually written in a year lol, hope we like it? Also, I cant remember where I got the borders from, I downloaded them a while ago, so if you recognize them could you please comment who the artist is so I can properly credit them!

[returnofeternity]

synopsis. you go too far in the caves.

pairing: lottie matthews x gn!reader

genre: angst and fluff.

warnings. drug use, suffocation, passing out, character death for like a second?

wc: 2,246

· · 𐂂 · ·

you should have just stayed in bed and waited for her to come back. you knew where she was and what she was doing, and you knew she needed to be alone, but you couldn't sleep so you went looking for her.

she was doing exactly what you thought she was doing, aka praying to the Wilderness, but she was crying. and you hate it when she cries. and you hate how miserable she looked when she told you she couldn't hear It and that It didn't listen. you wanted to make her happy. so, you blurted out the only thing that's been cheering her up for the past few weeks.

"take me to the caves. i want to see more."

to be quite frank, you really dislike all these cave sessions lottie's been making you do. tripping out in the wilderness with shrooms was fine, cool even, but you can't count how many times you've almost died in the caves. the worst part is that it's all for naught. your 'visions' make no sense to you. most of the time they're just hallucinations of you and lottie back at home with some weird shit sprinkled in instead of visions of what the Wilderness desires. that's what these trips have been for; to hear and feel the Wilderness. and you do! you're connecting with it just like lottie wants, but you're not seeing It. you feel like you're failing lottie.

and you'd do anything to make her happy.

so going back to the caves with the gas leak it is.

lottie tightens the rope around your waist, looking up at you for confirmation that it's tight enough. you nod in return and she gives you a delicate smile, dropping her end of the rope so she can pick up the candle. the flame lights her face perfectly, and you get lost in her big, brown eyes as she moves a piece of her hair from out of her face.

"you should go deeper." she says, her voice gentle and calm. "maybe you'll be able to see more."

you don't like this idea.

"okay," you agree, your fingers nervously fiddling with the rope tied around your waist. "but is the rope even long enough?"

she looks down to eye the length and nods when she looks back at you. "it should be. just go as far as you can, okay? i got you." she reassures you, leaning in for a short kiss that makes all your worries melt away.

lottie pulls her mask up to cover her nose and mouth and bends down to pick up the rope before walking back to kneel by the entrance, rope tight in her hand. you let out a shaky breath and turn your back to her, wondering what the fuck you keep getting yourself into.

as you start walking into the cave, you hear lottie call out from behind, her voice echoing loudly off the walls. "listen to what's happening around you."

you mumble back an "okay" like she can hear you and steady yourself against the wall as you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to tune into the Wilderness. your shoes scuff against some rocks as you feel your way around and you gasp as a flash of you on a cliff pops into your mind. when you blink your eyes open, you're still in the cave, but it's cold as if the wind is nipping against your nose and cheek. despite the bad feeling you have in your stomach, you venture further into the dark cave. your eyes feel heavy and you keep bumping your shoulder against the wall of the cave because of how disoriented you feel. maybe you should sit down for a second.

you slide down the wall, groaning at the rocks scratching your back, and lift your shirt up to your nose so you can try and breathe properly. your throat burns as you take raggedy breaths and your eyes prickle with tears. this was a horrible idea. maybe you should just head back and make something up to make lottie happy. but if she found out you lied she'd be angry at you. goddammit.

the rope around your waist pulls you forward slightly and you catch yourself with your hands, face grimacing as you breathe in the not-so-fresh air of the cave. weakly, you pat the ground for the rope trailing behind you and tug at once to let lottie know you're okay. you make a retching sound as you move to get up, frothy drool leaking from your lips and onto the cave ground. well, shit, that's never happened before. you'd better hurry and get the fuck out of out here. you can come another time. lottie would understand.

when you get up, reality flashes between that cliff you saw and the cave. it makes you pause, and when you step forward and blink, you're on the cliff. right on the edge. you try to move back but your feet are glued to the ground. the wind blows harshly and makes your eyes well up with tears, and it's only then you realize that you can only move your eyes. everything else is stiff. you try to shout for lottie, but your mouth won't open, and even the choked sob that racks your body doesn't let out. it sounds more like a muffled scream.

the wind blows again but this time it's with more force and it makes you sway back and forth. the feeling makes your stomach sink, and a cold sweat washes over your body. your wide eyes fly to the bottom of the cliff, the clouds and rocks below making it seem like it's millions of miles deep. you start praying for something to wake you up from this hallucination; lottie, the Wilderness, god, who-the-fuck-ever can help you.  

suddenly, just as your body leans forward, about to fall off the cliff, you're back in the caves. you fall down, head bumping against the rocky floor and getting scratched up. your throat tightens and you wheeze, hands reaching up to grab at whatever force is choking you. the feeling is terrible. no matter how hard you try and breathe, you just can't. as the edges of your vision begin to fade to black, you let out a feeble whisper of lottie's name.

· · 𐂂 · ·

lottie tugs at the rope again, heart pounding in her chest when she feels how loose it is. she takes her mask off for a second to call out your name, listening intently for any response back. she hears nothing, and when she pulls the rope down in frustration, it snaps back so easily.

you're not attached to it anymore.

she puts her mask back on so fast that she accidentally scratches her nose. she holds her breath as best as she can as she jogs into the cave, frantically calling out your name and cursing under her breath. lottie tries to tap into the Wilderness, trying to feel where you could be, but she can't seem to sense you anymore. it's like a fading pulse in her head as she takes deep breaths and searches for you.

her eyes tear up and she sniffs, looking around to see if she can spot your body somewhere. there, in the corner, she can see your limp hand. immediately she rushes toward you, dropping to her knees and scooping your weak body into her lap.

"i got you. you're okay, you're okay." she mutters to herself rather than you.

lottie tugs you up and carries you back to the entrance of the cave, her muscles burning as she tries to keep upright and keep you in her arms despite the lack of fresh air in her lungs. she collapses near the opening and apologizes to your unconscious body for accidentally hurting you. her hands cradle your face and she shakes you, body prickling with fear when she notices just how limp you are.

she puts her hands over your heart and starts to pray. "bring them back to us. bring them back to us." your pulse slowly weakens more as she repeats those words over and over, and she gets desperate. she looks around the cave before her eyes land on the flickering candle. "fuck it."

she grasps onto the can that's a candle and slices her hand on the sharp edge, instantly dripping her blood onto your body and moving into a prayer position with her bloody hand over your heart.

"bring them back to me. bring them back to me. bring them back. please. please."

you come back into consciousness screaming for lottie and clawing at your throat. you can finally breathe but barely. lottie's there to shush you and stroke your head, grabbing you by your shirt to tug you into her arms.

"'it's okay, it's okay, you're safe. i got you." she whispers to you, soothingly rubbing your back and helping you get your breathing back to normal. she pushes you back gently and strokes your cheek, her thumb wiping your freshly falling tears.

"i'm sorry, i tried to go as far as i could." your voice is hoarse as you speak and it hurts. you cling onto her warm arms and rub her skin with your thumbs to try and calm yourself down but you can't keep your sobs in. she pulls you back in for a hug and shakes her head. you stay there for a few moments, thinking about whether you should tell her what you saw or stay silent. "i wanna go back now, please."

maybe you'll tell her later.

· · 𐂂 · ·

lottie holds your hand all the way back to the huts, even when you told her you needed to take a piss. it's endearing but still uncomfortable. didn't help the fact that she didn't take her eyes off you either.

the walk back is silent, and you know she feels guilty because she's not saying anything. you want her to say something, but your throat hurts too much to speak, so you just rub her thumb and pull her closer to your side.

when you get back to the shelter, she sits you down on the bed and tells you to stay put while she runs and gets a rag and bowl of water. you don't know why she's cleaning you up when she's the one who's bleeding more than you, but it feels nice to be taken care of by her. honestly, you almost forget about the scratches on your head until you hiss at the slight pain as she cleans them up. lottie leaves again to get her herb paste made from heliotropes and other various plants to put on your wounds, cooing at you quietly when you whine from how much it stings.

"let me put it on your hand?" you suggest after she sets the paste down on the bed and kisses your nose. "it looks bad."

she nods and gives you her hand, and you clean it with some water first before applying the purple-ish paste. lottie bites her lip as you gently rub it across the nasty gash on her palm, and you apologize softly as you finish with it. you bring her hand to your lips so you can kiss it and help her onto your lap and into bed with you, cuddling her side protectively.

"we should take a few days off so you can rest before we go back." lottie mumbles, her fingers dancing along the side of your arm.

you sigh and shut your eyes, stomach swarming with uneasy feelings. "lott, i don't think i want to do this anymore. i mean, fuck, i almost died in there."

she sits up on her arm and leans over you, pieces of her hair tickling your face. "i know, but we need to figure out what the Wilderness wants. you're the closest to It now. It'll tell you what It needs, you just need to learn how to understand It. i can teach you."

you shake your head and gulp down some tears, turning your head away from her and inhaling heavily. "i was on some cliff before i passed out. i couldn't move at all. the vision stopped right as i fell from it, and then that's when i started choking. i don't know what it means. i don't know what any of my visions mean."

lottie frowns and leans over you some more so she can try and catch your gaze, and when you look back at her, her eyes are just as sad as you are. she bends down and captures your lips in a reassuring kiss, resting her head on your forehead as she whispers: "it's okay. we'll figure it out together. you just have to keep trying. we'll be safer next time."

your shoulders slump back against the blankets in defeat. you know she's just being pushy because wants the best for the group, but sometimes you wish she'd listen. you give a half-assed smile and nod, your fingers prodding at the holes in her mesh shirt as you try not to think about how nervous you are to go back.

"can you make me that herb tea? the one that always helps me sleep..." you mumble, feeling like you just need to rest for weeks to forget about today.

[glasvera]

Stoicism and Gratuity

Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader x The Punisher

Description: You're always healing them so that they can let loose on the battlefield. Now it's your turn to let them do the work.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, clothed sex, minor mentions of alcohol, Bucky's arm tentacles, choking, spanking, rough sex, threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, light bondage??? if you count the tentacles?, Frank's kind of an ass but means well, one (1) terrible pun

A/N: Fulfilling a request for Bucky or Frank wasn't something I ever thought I'd do, but my interest was piqued and I decided to give it a shot. And then it turned into a light novel. Also... gods it feels SO weird calling him Frank.

Word Count: 5k

When Frank and Bucky invited you over, you thought it was just a casual meet up between colleagues, no, friends to enjoy what little downtime you had between missions. Order some take out, maybe drink a few beers… you know the drill. 

Even so, you couldn't help taking the chance to dress up a little bit. It was so rare that you got out (outside of work, at least) so you tended to go a little over the top when the opportunities presented themselves. Surely you couldn't go wrong with a cute dress and tights. 

Plus, who doesn't want to look this good in front of two absolutely gorgeous men?

It was hard enough that you were attracted to both of them. Flirting with one felt like some unspoken betrayal to the other, so you usually just tried to push those feelings down. But you weren't blind; unlike their more practical clothing and tactical gear, your hero suit hugged you in all the right places, and you had caught them both staring multiple times. You'd even teased them on more than one occasion about finding better partners if they were going to keep getting distracted on the job.

So why not throw caution to the wind while you can and give them a little more to look at?

Despite your original confidence, when you rap your knuckles on the door to Frank's apartment, you couldn't help the flutter of butterflies that burst forth in your stomach. What if your neckline plunged too low? What if they got the wrong (right?) idea about you from the fishnets that hug your hips just as tightly as the skirt of your dress?

You're unable to dwell on those thoughts for long before the door opens, and you're face to face with Bucky in a wife beater and joggers. His calm and collected demeanor slips for just a second, and his eyes are devouring your figure before he realizes what he's doing. He clears his throat and presses his lips shut into a thin line.

“Y/N. Good. You made it.” He blinks, scratching the back of his head with his organic arm, and steps back to allow you inside. “You… You look good,” he adds with a curt nod.

“Close the damn door. Air conditioning isn’t cheap, you know,” you hear Frank’s gruff voice call out from further in.

“I’m offering good company for free. Think that’ll cover it?” you retort with a cheeky smile as you round the corner into the living room, your heels clacking on the wooden floors.

To his credit, Frank doesn’t even try to hide the once-over he gives you. All you get in return is an amused snort. He looks good, you think, in a simple t-shirt and jeans. The denim has a few oil stains and the shirt is probably a size too small, but it suits him. You certainly can't complain about being able to see his strong physique on full display. Honestly, the two of them just look the same as they usually do minus all the extra equipment. Now you really feel overdressed. 

“You heading out to the club after this or something?” Frank quips while gesturing to your outfit.

Before you get the chance to be terribly embarrassed or even defend yourself, Bucky returns the Punisher's snark. “She can dress how she wants, old-timer. And don't think I missed the way you looked at her.”

You flash Bucky a smile of thanks. Frank grumbles something about being called “old-timer” by the guy who's older than him, but otherwise drops it. Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a minute, followed soon after by the sounds of bottles clinking in the opened fridge. 

Frank pats the seat next to him. Once you oblige, sinking into the poor, abused couch that threatens to swallow you whole in its cushions, he heaves a big sigh.

“You do look good. Just had to tease you,” he explains himself before Bucky reappears behind you with three beers in hand. “But Winter Princess over here had to get his panties in a knot over it,” he adds with a pointed smirk.

“If this weren't your place, I might smash this bottle over your head,” Bucky taunts back even as he hands him one.

He vaults over the back of the couch, throwing himself back into the cushions without much grace and landing next to you with an audible oomph. It launches you up a little in your seat. That, coupled with their banter, draws a lilting giggle from your lips. Bucky shoots you the softest of smiles. Ah… you were wondering when the butterflies in your stomach were coming back. 

He hands you the last beer, and you see the metal plates of his arm open and shift about before a tentacle reaches out and pops the cap off for you.

“Nice Swiss Arm-y Tool you got there,” you can't help but say with a shit-eating grin as you catch the cap in your other hand. Frank snorts again and Bucky sighs, losing his smile immediately and shutting his eyes.

“I will take yours back,” he threatens half-heartedly.

The tentacle that slithered about after opening the bottle lingers for a moment, and you pull back with a start when the cold appendage brushes against your wrist. Bucky's eyes widen and he quickly withdraws, metal clanking and shrieking against itself as he returns his arm to its usual state.

“Sorry. They have a mind of their own sometimes. Been meaning to see Shuri about that,” he explains apologetically. He can’t seem to look you in the eye.

“I-It’s okay,” you manage to eke out, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where it had touched you. You knew about them, fighting with him as you so often did, but that was the first time you'd felt them. It was so alien, and you shudder at the thought of what they could have been if Hydra had their way.

“And I thought I was a buzzkill,” Frank finally chimes in as he starts flicking through channels with the TV remote. It earns him a glare from Bucky, but he ignores it. He settles on some random sci-fi movie for background noise before setting the remote onto the arm of the couch. That'll probably get lost between the cushions later.

Despite his intent, you find yourself trying to focus on what's on the screen instead of the awkward silence building between you three. You hadn’t seen Fifth Element in ages. Trying (and failing) to ease your nerves, you lean back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you take a swig of beer. Eugh. Frank definitely wasn't breaking the bank for this brand.

After a little while, you all settle into what is at least a slightly more comfortable silence. Fifth Element just has a way of bringing people together, you suppose. Bucky props a foot up on one knee, and you don't miss the way he rests his mechanical arm on the back of the couch behind you. Frank leans forward and leans his elbows on his thighs, and his repositioning leaves his leg pressing against yours. The scratchy denim catches a bit on your fishnets, and even through the thick fabric you can feel the heat of his skin.

It continues like that for several minutes. Your eyes, as discreetly as you can manage, keep finding their way to the men on either side of you. You notice the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest, the way his shoulder muscles twitch every once in a while when he adjusts his metallic arm. You see Frank's fingers tense a bit around the neck of the bottle he holds, and suddenly a part of you wonders how those fingers would feel around your own neck…

Korben Dallas and Leeloo just aren't capturing your attention anymore.

“Met Bruce Willis once. Weird guy,” Frank suddenly pipes up. It takes you by surprise and you actually jump in your seat, granting you raised eyebrows from both of them.

“You okay, Y/N?” Bucky asks as he turns his body to face you better.

Warmth rushes to your face. “I-I'm fine! I don't know why that startled me. Guess I was just lost in the movie,” you lie as you run a nervous hand through your hair.

Frank places a hand on your bare shoulder and squeezes a bit. His palm is searing, no, branding on your skin, the ghost of it lingering even when he pulls away.

“You're tense, doll face. Somethin’ the matter?” he asks.

“Probably working too hard. Come to think of it, this is the first time I've seen Y/N outside of work,” Bucky comments with a hint of genuine concern. His metal hand finds the back of your neck and massages it gently, and you feel your face flush even more at the sudden contact. “You can loosen up, you know,” he teases.

It does feel nice, you can't deny that.

“Yeah… loosen up…” you murmur, trying to sound thoughtful. Your head bobs a bit as Bucky continues, and you see a slight smile return to his face.

You can also feel the tension in the room shift… but you don’t see the way Bucky and Frank look at each other as your eyes flutter close. A wordless exchange occurs between them unbeknownst to you, and they both nod in agreement.

It was something they’d discussed before, after all.

“You’re always taking care of us, you know. And I don’t just mean on the battlefield,” Bucky mutters in your ear. When had he gotten that close? “You’re always checking up on us, calling or texting us to see if we’re doing okay…”

“We invited you over to let loose, sweetheart. And you’re not doing a very good job of it yet,” Frank adds gruffly.

“I… I’m sorry?” you finally respond with a slight laugh in your voice. You’re not sure if you should apologize or not, really. 

“Maybe you should be,” Frank grunts as his hand rests on your knee.

Bucky chuckles. “Don’t be sorry.” He’s practically leaning into you now, and you can feel his breath on your ear. It sends shivers across your skin. “Just let us take care of you… if you want us to, of course,” he adds.

“What is…?” You want to say “happening,” but words seem to fail you when Frank cups your jaw and forces him to look at you.

“I said you looked good. But I think you’d look even better without that get-up,” he almost growls. His eyes are dark with something you’ve never seen in him before, and a shuddered breath slips from your lips.

“O-Oh…”

It’s all you can muster.

But that’s all it takes.

You don’t have to wonder what Frank’s fingers feel like on your neck anymore as he grabs the back of your head and tugs you into a possessive, devouring kiss. His lips are rough, a bit chapped, but that doesn’t matter when his tongue delves eagerly into your mouth. The hand on your knee grips you harder.

“Should have known you’d be the impatient one,” Bucky chides before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. The stubble on his chin scratches against your skin in the best way. A broken moan gurgles in your throat.

Well. This was not how you were expecting the night to go at all.

You hear metallic tings and clangs behind you, and that’s all the warning you have before tentacles are slithering down your back and sides. It’s a little cold and it certainly catches you by surprise, but the way they slip under your dress is undeniably erotic. Bucky freezes. Ah, so he hadn’t meant to do that.

Breathing heavily, you break the kiss with Castle to face Bucky with lust-darkened eyes. “N-No… it’s okay,” you breathe. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head, but once his eyes flicker down to your panting and kiss-bruised lips, desire wins over. He nods, dumbfounded, before claiming his own turn at kissing you.

Frank, a bit perturbed at having his make out session interrupted, takes out his frustrations on the opposite side of your neck. Where Bucky was passionate and intense, Frank is angry, biting hard and sucking dark hickies into your skin. If you were standing, you know your knees would be wobbling. His hand travels higher, roughly massaging your inner thigh with callused fingers.

Tentacles squirm down the front of your dress, curling underneath your breasts and squeezing them. You gasp into Bucky’s mouth and he bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. Even more tendrils travel lower, cold shocking your feverish skin, and you feel them toying with the elastic band of your panties. Bucky’s hair tickles your nose when he presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly.

“Been wanting to do that for a while… you sure you’re okay with this?” Bucky asks even as his body is clearly trembling with unsatiated lust.

When you open your mouth to answer, Frank bites down hard on your neck, and you’re seeing stars as he draws a cry from your throat. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“Twenty bucks says she’s soaked through. You’re enjoying it just fine, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“I-I…” you start, but only a low groan follows when he nibbles on your earlobe. Their lips occupied everything from your neck up while tentacles lavished you with attention beneath your dress. Frank was right: you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs already. His hand teasing at your inner thigh and dipping beneath the hem of your skirt certainly wasn't helping. 

“She can't even think straight. I think it's working,” Frank snickers. He palms your breast roughly through your dress, finding the hardening nipple and tugging on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck…” you stammer breathlessly. You're still facing Bucky, and he's drinking in every delicious expression of desire that crosses your face. He adjusts himself in his pants, but the tent forming there is obvious. Your mouth waters when you catch a glimpse of it. 

Bucky’s hand finds itself on your opposite thigh, spreading your legs apart as tentacles dip lower. Your breathing stops in anticipation. Part of you wonders if he can feel everything that they feel. The groan he utters when he swipes a tendril up your clothed slit answers that question, and you answer him in kind with a throaty whine. 

“She's drenched, Castle,” he growls before kissing you again.

“And we're only just getting started,” Frank adds as his hand yanks down the front of your dress. You let out a soft gasp as those rough fingers grope at your bare skin. His teeth and tongue work their way down your chest. When his lips close around your nipple and his tongue flicks back and forth rapidly across the bud, your legs try desperately to clamp themselves shut. But their hands wouldn't allow that. In fact, Frank slaps the tentacle out of the way before cupping your sex to feel just how wet you are. His approval hums through his lips, and the small vibrations of it against your sensitive flesh have you bucking into his hand. 

Speaking of hands, you've been at a loss at what to do with yours this entire time. It was difficult to focus on any one thing. Your palms smooth along their biceps, or you feel your fingers clutching desperately onto their shirts and wrinkling the fabric. Every ounce of your concentration is spent processing each source of pleasure and simulation they give you. 

Bucky's lips leave yours to travel lower, nipping at your collarbone. He gazes up at you with no small amount of anticipation, practically begging you to continue moaning for the two of them. Your head falls back against the couch as you gasp for air. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Bucky praises as he massages your thigh. 

“Mm… I… it feels… fuck…” you groan, your fingers finding the back of Frank's head and holding him to your chest. Your legs are quivering as he continues pleasuring you through your panties. 

“Feel even better when you've got our cocks stretching you out,” Frank adds bluntly as his breath ghosts over your nipple.

You feel like a whore when you moan at those dirty words. The idea makes you impossibly wetter, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. Bucky seems affected by it too, because now he's the impatient one trying to free himself from his pants.

You barely catch a glimpse of it before you feel his tentacles wrapping securely around you and lifting you up, settling you on his lap. Those same tentacles rip open your fishnets and tug your underwear to the side. A surprised gasp escapes you at the sound of torn netting, but you don't have time to be offended. He's hovering your slick wetness over his achingly hard cock, grinding it up against you while his free hand grips your ass and guides you back and forth. 

“Oh fuck… Bucky,” you whimper. They weren't kidding about taking care of you. You didn't move a muscle as those cold tendrils held you aloft.

“Who's the impatient one, now?” Frank accuses with no small amount of annoyance. He's standing up behind you now, lifting your dress up around your hips and groping your ass. In his frustration, he gives it a hard smack, but that sting only drives you crazier and you let out a staggered keen.

“Like that, do ya?” he asks with a malicious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He gives you a few more smacks, enjoying the sounds they pull from your lips. “We talked about taking turns, but maybe what you really need is to be stuffed completely. Want us to use you like our doll, doll face?”

You can see the flicker of worry in Bucky’s eyes, thinking that maybe this was going too far, but you're practically gushing at the idea. You nod with a pleading whimper.

“Fuck, yes. Please. Ruin me,” you respond. Despite his hesitation, your words cause Bucky to twitch against you. You want so badly to guide his cock into you and start bouncing on it, but those tendrils wrap around your wrists and keep your arms in place behind your back.

Bucky's breathing grows ragged, and he gives you a warning look. “Keep saying shit like that, and you're gonna drive me crazy.”

“Why don't you shut your mouth and keep putting those tentacles of yours to good use? Stand and hold her up so we can both fuck her,” Frank commands with a snarl. You hear the clink of his belt buckle and the growl of a zipper soon follows, and even before Bucky has complied you feel a thick, hard cock pressed against your ass.

Bucky gives the other man an indignant huff, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right here on the comfort of the couch. Not to mention that using his tentacles like this was completely uncharted territory; they seemed affected by his desires and impulses, but even he doesn’t trust those all of the time.

Unfortunately for him, those sweet lips of yours pout irresistibly at him. And when it comes to you, his resolve crumbles in an instant.

“You want this?” Bucky starts, standing upright as his arm tentacles lift you higher. Your arms are above your head now, and a tentacle slithers down further until it teases at your neck. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me if you get overwhelmed,” he tells you as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lip curls ever so slightly, almost disgusted at himself for giving in so easily. But even he couldn’t deny just how wet and ready you seemed to be. And the way your hooded eyes look at him, the way your pupils swallow your irises completely, draws a soft growl from his throat.

Your only response is to lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, tugging him closer, smirking and daring him to continue. Tentacles meet those quickly, binding your ankles together and pinning you to his body.

“Nice try, sweetheart. But we’re in control here,” he mutters as his lips brush against yours. You try to meet them properly, but he holds you in place by your chin as he pulls away. A low whine chokes from you, and he shakes his head. “You signed up for this.”

While your heated exchange continues, Frank strokes his cock behind you, readying himself with lubricant. Bucky would have the easier job of it, but that doesn’t bother him. He’s not called the Punisher for nothing. Since he doesn’t have to worry about holding you up (though, he most certainly could), he rips your panties off of your body with one hand while the other presses two slick fingers against your anus. You yelp at the sudden intrusion, completely ignoring the second aggression performed against your clothing for the night. No, you can only focus on how thick his fingers are as they press against the tense muscle. You’re breathing heavily as he eases the first digit inside.

Bucky finally releases your chin, instead taking his own length in hand and teasing it up and down your slit. He spreads your wetness over the tip, watching your face carefully as your lips part into an “o” shape. You were being teased from both sides, never fully getting what you wanted, and it leaves you a whimpering mess. Frank chuckles from behind as he inserts a second finger.

“Yes… more! Oh gods, please…” you beg as you buck against them.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he grunts while scissoring the digits inside you.

A breathy chortle of agreement drags out of Bucky’s lips. The tentacle that teased at your neck before now wraps around it fully, constricting slightly. Your eyes go wide at the sensation, but Bucky doesn’t miss the way your thighs clamp around his waist. The end of the tendril brushes tenderly at your lips like it’s trying to map them out by touch alone. The tip of Bucky’s dick finally pushes inside you, slipping through easily as he slides inch after inch into your beckoning heat. His head falls forward with a groan, his brows knitting together as he waits for you to acclimate to the stretch of him. Strangled curses force their way from your throat, words of praise bubbling at your lips as your velvety walls suck him in. You already feel so full, and if they continue, then that means…

“So… tight,” Bucky manages as sweat beads on his forehead. “Dunno how she’s gonna-”

“She’ll be fine,” Frank interrupts, speaking for you as he withdraws his fingers. He grunts in amusement at the small squeak you let out. You don’t even have time to mourn the loss before the head of his cock pushes insistently against your prepared hole. “Relax, doll face. Breathe.”

Well, that’s easier said than done when you’re being gently choked by an eldritch tentacle.

Thankfully, the appendage relents, and just as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet oxygen, Frank shoves the entire tip into you with one push. Your breath catches in your throat. He thrusts that little bit in and out, sinking further and further each time. It rocks you against Bucky. He’s having a hard time keeping himself restrained from moving as is, and those little bounces are testing his resolve. His hand grips your waist almost painfully.

And then, without pomp or ceremony, Frank sheathes himself to the hilt. You cry out loudly, tossing your head back, but he’s done waiting. You’re lucky he took the time to stretch you out a bit in the first place, he thinks. His cock pistons in and out of your ass rapidly, his broad arm wrapping around your front to paw at your breasts as they bounce with his movements.

Bucky can feel the other man’s cock through that thin wall of skin, making you impossibly tighter. It’s an effort when he begins thrusting. Once he’s able to match Frank’s rhythm, they alternate, never leaving you empty. Your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw hangs slack as moans pour from your lips.

“Atta girl,” Frank grunts before he starts biting and sucking at your neck. He’s fucking you aggressively, possessively, wrecking you completely as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your nails dig into the tentacles that hold you aloft, and Bucky hisses. You feel yourself being choked again in retaliation. He wasn’t expecting you to tighten around him when he did that, though.

Gods, you really were the perfect little fuck doll, weren’t you?

Bucky doesn’t know where to focus his gaze. Frank’s hand squeezes one tit while the other bounces with their thrusts. Your neck looks so beautiful with his tentacle wrapped around it. Your lips part so sweetly as you desperately gasp out your sounds of pleasure. He looks down to where your hips meet, and you’ve already ruined the front of his pants where they sit beneath his cock. Fuck. He reaches down, pressing his palm against your stomach as his thumb flicks circles on your clit.

Your mind is going blank. You don’t even form actual words anymore, simply babbling incomprehensible sounds as your mascara runs in lines down your cheeks. Pressure builds in your core, amplified by your lack of oxygen, and your thighs tremble around the Winter Soldier. Frank pauses in his thrusts, and before either of you can question why, he’s timing his thrusts with Bucky.

You feel full to bursting. Your moans are sobs now, and your body hangs limply in the tentacles’ grasp as they fuck you in tandem. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and a tendril presses against it before snaking between your lips. In your fucked-out state, it only feels natural to suck on it.

“Sh-shit…” Bucky curses as that causes his thrusts to falter for a second. “How do you keep getting sexier?”

Frank sucks mark after mark into your skin, angling his thrusts to the side slightly so he can spank your ass with his free hand. You scream around the tentacle in your mouth. So much pressure, so much euphoria. You’re going insane, absolutely cock-drunk. It builds in you, with electrical currents zapping straight to your core with every thrust, every bite, every slap. Your walls flutter around them, and Bucky redoubles his efforts at playing with your clit. So close. So close.

They’re not faring much better than you. You’re a feast for the eyes from the front and the back, and those gargled moans and strangled cries you keep making only spur them on more. Their pace quickens, muscles straining as they fuck you into utter oblivion. Bucky’s eyes close and he grits his teeth. Frank only gets even more aggressive with his affection, nearly bruising your breasts with his squeezing and making sure your ass has a permanent sting.

“Take it, doll face. Fuck,” Frank curses. You can feel him swelling inside you with his impending release.

“Y… mmhh… yeth, oh f…fuck,” you stammer around the tentacle in your mouth. 

And then Bucky angles his thrusts just a little bit to the side. You gasp with a shrill cry.

Bingo.

He hammers into that spot, never relenting on your clit. The tentacle around your neck squeezes tighter, and for a moment you wonder if you might black out. But it’s all too good, too intense, and you feel it rising, rising--

Your walls spasm around them and Bucky releases the tentacle around your throat in the same instant. A hoarse cry pours from your lips as you experience an earth-shattering orgasm, oxygen rushing to your head and your entire body convulsing in the tentacles’ hold. Wave after wave of gooey warmth washes over you. Both men watch you in awe as you let go completely, falling limp, and fuck you even faster to chase their own release. You fade in and out of consciousness as your orgasm fades, but you’re brought back to reality when Frank grunts and growls animalistically before stilling, pumping load after load into your ass. His softening cock slides out of you as he steps back and falls against the couch. 

Bucky is gasping, his muscular frame glistening with sweat as he takes over, his tentacles retracting back into his metal arm as he catches you. You yelp in surprise as your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself. His eyes bore straight into yours with an undeniable ferocity, and then he’s kissing you hungrily. Your fingers thread into his brown locks, and he continues fucking you as he holds you aloft in his arms. He groans into your lips as his hips pick up the pace and you feel yourself moaning along with him. He lets out a long, drawn out growl when he finally stiffens, thrusting a few more times as you feel his seed paint your walls. When he breaks the kiss, he’s panting, and he too falls back against the couch. He’s still holding you, and you let out a giggling yelp as you fall onto his lap.

It takes some effort to control your trembling limbs, but you manage to extract yourself, returning to your original seat between them. All three of you are a mess, panting, sweaty, and half-dressed.

When you happen to glance over to the TV, you’re surprised to see that they’re still playing Fifth Element. These commercial breaks are getting ridiculous. Frank absentmindedly looks for the remote, looking to turn down the volume, but can’t seem to find it and gives up. Probably between the couch cushions, but he’s a bit too lazy to look that hard right now.

Bucky’s arm finds its way behind you again, but this time it rests on your opposite shoulder. “So… feeling good, Y/N?”

You hum, lolling your head back and forth to look at both of them. “Mm… I think I can’t feel my legs,” you joke with a chortle. “And… I definitely think we should do this more often.”

[rinsoap]

SONGS THEY LOVE TO MAKE OUT TO!

✿²˖ ࣪ ➣ includes : suna rintaro. iwaizumi hajime. atsumu miya.

note : me after incorporating my music hyperfixation into all my works. also can u tell im so obsessed with all of these men's arms n hands.

SUNA RINTARO: REDBONE BY CHILDISH GAMBINO

makeouts with suna are always distracting you. this night was no different except for the fact that you're on the floor. well, you're sittting on the rug beside his bed that's pushed up to the wall. he's sitting against it, and you're in his lap facing him. you're on your phone, not paying attention to the boy directly in front of you, too busy trying to instruct one of your project partners on how to use microsoft. suna is not usually jealous. who cares if someone's into you? it's not like they have a chance. you never entertain them anyways. he just misses you. he was out of the city for a week for an away game, and he's hardly kissed you since he left. he's had awaken, my love! by childish gambino playing for a while now, head lolling back on the bed, bored out of his mind. "babyyyy" he hums in complaint after you giggle at your phone. "hold on rin, i'm almost done... god these people are so stupid, i swear i'm literally carrying this project" you roll your eyes as your fingers fly across the screen, the tapping filling the silence until your boyfriend groans and brings his head up to look at your pretty face. the intro of redbone kicks in, and his mind starts racing, thinking about all the times he's kissed your lips to this song. his hand snakes around your waist, and you feel his thumb start tracing hearts into your skin. "you're too pretty to be worrying about school," suna pouts, "you should pay attention to... other things..." his suspicious trail off causing your eyes to flick to his face, but before you could find his eye contact, he was planting kisses onto your neck. "rin," you whine, winding up to tell him off, but he makes his way up to your jaw, grinning against your cheek when you catch his eye. "rin i can't..." you sigh, incredibly receptive to his touch despite your words, dropping your phone still open on your messages to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "you just look so beautiful, can’t stop myself," he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours, hands making their way to hold the dip between your jaw and neck. you lean into his desperate kiss, and when your fingers carress the nape of his neck, you feel him smile. "missed you so much baby"

IWAIZUMI HAJIME: NIGHTS BY FRANK OCEAN

makeouts with iwaizumi always start out polite. it's always just one kiss, something casual, until he starts getting needier. you had dragged your boyfriend into another late afternoon nap, him shirtless, and you wearing one of his faded graphic t-shirts. you're woken by the sunlight beaming through iwaizumi's ineffective blinds. his arm is lazily holding you and he's laying on his stomach, you're on your back. you place your hand on his forearm and hum along to the end of hold on by the internet. you had forgotten you put on a playlist. you hear iwaizumi grunt and you giggle. "you awake finally?" he teases, turning on his side to face you and you do the same. "take a guess, genius" you quip back and he tsks. he doesn't say anything though, chest to chest and noses touching, he just stares into your eyes. sometimes he wakes up with you next to him and he is baffled at how he managed to pull someone as gorgeous as you. his eyes only break from yours to flick to your lips, and you can tell he's trying to be discreet by the way they immediately dart back. the song changes, and you both smile at each other knowingly. you were about to exclaim that he should just kiss you, but he interrupts that thought to oblige, and your face goes hot. his kisses still gave you butterflies despite being with him for so long. you kiss him back, matching the way he deepens it, hands over your hips as he pulls you onto him. you gasp at the sudden nature of it, and he grins against your mouth. you break free and move your hands from the sides of his face to his bare chest, but he pulls you closer to kiss up your shoulder and your collarbones and ultimately brings you back to kiss him. as the beat switches, his strong arms hold you tighter, closing whatever distance the two of you might have had before. he groans in your mouth when your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it slightly when he quietly mumbles, "i love you". he could kiss you all day if he could, and he acts like it.

MIYA ATSUMU: ONE NIGHT ONLY BY SONDER

makeouts with atsumu are intense and frequent. he loves pda, he's the type of guy to use any excuse to show off his girl, and is that such a crime?! he needs to stop kissing you at parties though, i fear you've become that couple. you were both a little tipsy, and when atsumu drinks, he can't take his hands off of you. so when he started kissing on your neck, you rushed him to the bathroom to avert everyone's eyes from the pda. you shut the door behind you, and atsumu quickly takes the opportunity to close the distance between you two until he had you pressed against the door. "oh, hey," you say with a sarcastic smirk that he matches. "hi baby," he bites his lip, looking you up and down and then back to your eyes, "you look so fucking good... i couldn't stop looking at ya, princess" he knows he's not subtle. your heart beats to the bass of the song playing through the door as he cups your cheeks in his big hands. he leans in to kiss you fervently, leaving you breathless and almost as needy as him. his hands thread through your hair and yours do the same as he nips at your lips playfully. you giggle and he pulls back just enough to speak, resting his forehead on yours. "you're so perfect" is all he says before he starts peppering you face and neck with soft kisses, working his way up back to your lips to capture you in a kiss much more intense comparatively. his hands roam your back, and you melt into his touch as the two of you intertwine. the world fades away, it's just you and him and the song. "hey are y'all done in there or what?" osamu knocks irritably, gladly interrupting you much to both of your displeasure. you laugh, and atsumu rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah whatever," he calls out, planting one last kiss on your cheek before you drag him out of the bathroom, "this will be continued later, promise you baby" he's so corny

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 14: Threesome

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x You

Contents: fem!reader x Frank Castle (The Punisher x Matt Murdock , FMM threesome

W/C: 2.4k

So… it’s been a while. I’ve been super busy and I’ve had awful writers block I’m sorry guys, but istg I will get this Kinktober done if it’s the last thing I do. But I made this one nice and long and slutty to make up for it!! I love Frank and Matt and hopefully yall do too <3

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Fuck.. Frank,” you whined, eyes rolling back into your head with how far inside he was hitting you, how thick he felt.

“What is it, baby, you want me to go harder?” You whimpered in response, desperate for more but not even being able to speak, already winded from his relentless pace. “Go on, baby, let him hear you.” It dawned on you then - he could hear you. Your bedroom was adjoining the guest room where Matt was sleeping, and with his sense, there was no doubt that he could hear everything…

Oh God, he could hear everything…

You did your very best to keep quiet, even as he rubbed you clit, and somehow pressed himself further into you. You even tried to hold you breath, your pants, but even if you somehow managed that, he would still hear your heartbeat, or the filthy noises Frank was making every time his body met yours.

“Let him hear you.” He repeated, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “You hear that, Red.” He spoke with a challenging tone, quiet, sure, but loud enough for Matt to hear, and the thought made you shudder, pussy fluttering around him. “I know you want her too, don’t you? It’s pretty damn obvious…” It was a taunt, blatant and outright, one that you were sure Matt wouldn’t respond to. But then you heard movement in the room next to you. Frank’s finger moved to your lips, sealing them shut with one thick fidget across your cupids bow. He burrowed himself into you, pressing deep and holding himself inside, letting you whine between closed lips. Matt’s footsteps were audible in the next room, even over the blood rushing in your head. He was pacing back and forth. Deliberating. Frank’s finger then left your mouth, trailing down your body to your clit and pressing small circles around it as his cock still filled you. You whimpered, legs shaking as he continued to keep you close to your edge.

“Reddd,” he cooed, desperately trying to goad him with that stupid nickname, “she’s close…”

Surely he wouldn’t actually join you. Of course, Frank wasn’t exactly wrong. You’d noticed the way his head cocked when you spoke, the way he stood close to you when you were working together, as though guarding you. The way he seemed almost dejected when Frank kissed you, or put his arm around you in protection.

You had noticed it most obviously today. You and Frank had finally found the ring of traffickers you had been tracing for weeks, and of course, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t far behind. It had been happening more frequently - running into each other out in the city - and the first few times, Matt and Frank had tried to out-testosterone each other, as though claiming their territory. It took a while, but eventually, you had helped them see how much better they worked together.

And today was no different. It was a matter of minutes until they were all incapacitated and the police were called, and not the corrupt ones, as Matt assured you consistently. Frank was more of a take-justice-into-your-own-hands kind of vigilante, which you didn’t mind. For the most part, you even agreed with him. ‘Dead men don’t rape’ had been your mantra since you were thirteen. But it was refreshing not always having to spill blood. Well, not as much as usual anyway.

The problem was, Matt had been badly hurt. You hadn’t even noticed until he collapsed onto the tarmac, blood gushing from his side, and a nasty welt blooming on his cheek. You were panicking quickly. He usually didn't show when he got hurt. You’d seen his entire back sliced open and he still managed to fight, but now, he could barely walk, and there was no chance he was making it all the way to his home. You begged Frank to let you bring him to your apartment and patch him up. Matt argued weakly, barely able to form coherent sentences, but Frank quickly caught on to your distress, telling him to stop moaning and that it this happening whether he liked it or not.

The three of you managed to stumble home, practically carrying Matt up the stairs to your lousy place. You settled him on the couch before grabbing the first-aid kit you had made up as soon as you and Frank had started this vigilante… thing - you weren’t even sure what to call it really.

“Sorry…” you muttered quietly, as you tried to ascertain where the blood was coming from. He winced as your fingers grazed over his side. “I can’t see where this…” You were quiet, mumbling as you tried to cover up your awkwardness. You needed to take his suit off, but even if he was bleeding, you didn’t quite feel comfortable just undressing him.

“Let me have a look.” Frank said, placing three glances of whiskey on the table. Matt had gotten your subtle hint and started to unstrap his body armour as Frank settled next to him. It turned out to be a stab wound, along with a nasty gash that stretched down his side, shallower than it initially looked though.

“This is gonna hurt, Red..” he muttered, grabbing the antiseptic and bandages. You sat of the edge of the coffee table, grabbing a wipe to clean the small wound on his face, hoping to provide distraction. As soon as Frank started, he hissed in pain, hand shooting out to your thigh and grabbing hard. You had tried your best not to noticed, but you couldn’t help but glanced down at his bare torso as you continued to carefully blot at the cut on his cheek, watching the way his muscles flexed in pain, and the rise and fall of his chest with each steading breath he took. You blushed lightly as you continued to work, but you could feel Frank glancing at you.

He wasn’t insecure in the slightest. And your relationship was very much an open one - with your histories and professions, it would be stupid not to be. But he had never seen it in real life: the look you usually gave him being aimed towards somebody else.

And now you were here, under his strong body, trying not to climax too early and listening intently for the slightest hint that Matt was going to respond to his taunt.

And then he did. You could hear footsteps quickening, then pausing right outside the door, a soft curse muttered under his breath. You whimpered in disappointment, frustration building as Frank fucked into you hard and his fingers moved faster against your aching core.

“Fuck, Matt, are you coming in or not?” You whined it quietly, cautiously. Just loud enough that he could hear, but just quiet enough that you all had plausible deniability if he changed his mind. Luckily for you, he hadn’t.

The door flew open and he strode to you urgently, pressing his lips against yours with fervor. The first taste of him was overwhelming—something you'd wanted for so long, finally happening, and it was better than you could have hoped. You could only imagine how he felt in that moment, his groan of relief and passion falling into your mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, fingertips running through the soft locks. His hand cupped your chin then traced lower, forming a delicate cage around your neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the sensitive skin there. You whined against his lips, your hips bucking into Frank uncontrollably. He had been watching the two of you with a dark look on his face, buried to the hilt inside you. It suited him. He was possessive but not jealous, protective but not obsessive—a perfect middle ground that he thrived in.

His thrusts deepened, and you let out a yelp at the sudden increase of pressure. Matt smiled. His fingers moved from your neck, trailing down your collarbone and lower until he was circling your nipple. He barely touched you, light as air, yet the sensation was dizzying. He started to increase the pressure until he was ready, and then he pinched, just hard enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your head. Paired with the way Frank was fucking you, his thumb still circling your clit, it wasn't long before you were coming undone. White hot pleasure overwhelmed your senses, muscles locking and shaking under their expert touches. You tried to moan, the guttural sound escaping you, but Matt’s mouth swallowed it.

“That’s it baby…” Frank crooned, still fucking you through it. “Atta girl.”

It was a while before you could breath again, body still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you barely had time to recover before you were being moved. You just about registered when your body hit Frank’s solid form, his arms wrapping around you as he tried to manhandle you into position, whispering sweet instructions in your ear.

“You’ve got another round in you, don’t you gorgeous? That’s it, good girl, on your hands and knees for us… give Red a chance to feel that pretty pussy of yours.” You were exhausted, totally fucked out, but when you felt Matt’s hands slide up the back of your thighs, onto your back and hips, as though trying to commit the very shape of you to his memory, you could feel yourself getting wet again. You nodded, smiling up at Frank through half lidded eyes and settling into position, arching your back for the gorgeous man behind you. You glanced back to see him, now stripped naked, his arms flexing as he gripped your hips tight, a low groan escaping his lips. A hand fell to your chin, pulling your attention back to the man in front of you, thumb smearing across your lips then into your mouth. Reminding you who you belonged to. After all the flirting, the teasing, the fucking… you were his. However non-committal you were, however far away you were, whoever you were with, deep down you knew, you would always fall back into his arms.

A knowing smile flashed across his face. He knew it. As you knelt there, his thumb in your hot mouth, your back arched for another man but your eyes on him, he knew he had you.

And that was why he let Matt sink into you. You moaned around Frank’s thumb as he slowly pressed himself deep, feeling every inch of him as he controlled the pace with his fingers biting into your hips. You tried to buck backwards, to make him speed up, to just fuck you already, but he wouldn't let you, his strength keeping you exactly where he wanted you. When his hips finally met your ass, he let out a low growl, pressing his body to the back of yours, and Frank finally freed your mouth, allowing Matt to gather your hair in his hand and twist your head back to kiss you hungrily. His lips left yours, and you whined, but then the hand in your hair started guiding you down towards Frank’s waiting cock, thick and hard and leaking precum and you realised it had been his hand all along. Frank’s. You shouldn't be surprised. You knew he was always in control, and sex was no different.

As your ready mouth sank down onto his erection, he wasted no time bottoming out, pressing into your throat and letting you gag around him just as Matt started to move, dragging out of you with aching patience, then rutting back in. It only took a few thrusts before he was losing control, and his pace quickened, whines and pants and curses falling from his lips as his hips slapped against you. When Frank finally pulled you off him, you were gasping, but he didn't let you have much of a breather, just enough to ease the burning in your lungs a tiny bit. Tears were pricking in your eyes, but he soothed you with praises and pet names, and you knew you could take it. You would take anything he gave you. He pulled you off again, but this time, not enough to take even a full breath before he pressed himself completely into your throat. You had never taken so much before, nose pressing against the very base of him, and you could taste yourself on him, a realisation that made your cunt flutter around Matt, earning a groan. You swallowed around him, eager to please, and it was enough. He stuttered your name, pressing you just a touch deeper, before he came down your throat, and you swallowed quickly, not wanting to waste a single drop.

He finally released you when he was completely spent, letting your head fall to the bed as you desperately caught your breath. You couldn't relax for long though, as Frank scooped you up once more, shuffling forward as your body was flush with his, head lulling over his shoulder. This position meant Matt was fucking up into you, hitting a spot that made you whimper in pure ecstasy, so good you could do nothing but dig your nails into Frank’s back. He growled, hand trailing down your body to find your clit and gently circle, pressure so light you shouldn’t have felt a thing, but you were already so overstimulated, so pent up, and with the way Matt was reaching that perfect place, you were so close.

“There you go pretty girl… that's it baby come on his cock for me…” Frank’s words were the last thing you needed to push you over the edge and you cried out, pleasure so good it was almost painful, whole body squirming in his arms. Matt’s hips stuttered, and he bit down onto your shoulder to suppress his moan as he came inside you, hands still firmly gripping your hips and grinding into you.

Your mind was hazy when you were finally finished, completely melted in Frank’s arms, Matt’s cock still inside you.

“This isn't going to become a habit now, pretty boy. Don't get it twisted. It was only because you got stabbed.” Matt just chuckled, his body collapsing into yours and you felt his cheek against your shoulder, hot breath fanning across your upper arm.

“It was worth it.”

[nfr-girly]

Healing hands 🩺 🩹 Michael Robinavitch x reader (spoilers)

Angst + fluff ❤️‍🩹 :: I’m not a medical expert at all so some of the information may be wrong 😵‍💫

Masterlist

~~~~

It was 12 hours into the shift. Robby was barely holding it together. Too much had happened today, Nick Bradley’s overdose, mr Spencer’s death, the little girl who drowned saving her sister, the shooting, Langdon, on top of today being the anniversary of Adamsons death. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.

It was like a never ending dance, every turn he took he had to deal with another problem, on top of that dealing with the stress of trying to save Jake and his girlfriend from bullet wounds. Luckily he had managed to save them both. (let’s pretend she survives 🤗)

It’s not an easy job, he knows that. It drains him every single day. But what motivates him to keep on going is very simply because of you. He does this job to build you two a life, he keeps on going because he knows you’ll be there at home waiting for him.

He knows you worry about him, how could you not? You see it on his face after work every day. All the lost patients, all the exhaustion. You know today is the most hardest on him. He hasn’t worked today for four years, when he got ready this morning you were hesitant to let him go. You knew he wasn’t stable enough, even though he told you he was, countless times.

No one at the er even knows about you two. The only ones who do are Dana, Frank and Dr Collins.

Right now, Robby seems to actually have a moment to himself. He sits at his computer, but really he’s only looking at his phone. He texted you a few hours ago how you were doing. It was your day off today, you made sure you had time off to be with Robby. (Before he ultimately decided to go to work). You hadn’t texted him back yet.

He didn’t want to worry himself too much, already on the verge of breaking down. So instead he sorted out documents.

He heard someone being brought in behind him, turning his head he tried to look, but the face of the person was covered by someone.

“They were involved in an attack by a drunken man. They were just walking in an alley when a man came up behind them and stabbed them in the shoulder.”

Robby overheard this as he got up and followed them into a room. Still not being able to see their face.

“Where’s the man now?” He asks, back turned to the patient as he puts his gloves on

“He’s been arrested, a man saw it and reported it to the police. He’s out there right now making a statement”

Robby nods, and quickly turns around, prepared to check their shoulder when he stops.

He felt his heart drop. All wind goes out his lungs and he can feel his ears ringing. Fuck.

There you were, lying on the gurney, your eyes were closed but you were alive. You were mumbling out incoherent words.

Suddenly the room was spinning, he could feel countless eyes on him as he spent about 20 seconds trying to assess the situation. Trying to convince himself that somehow you aren’t the one lying on the table.

“Alright catch me up on what-“ Dana speaks out as she walks into the room, but ultimately stops as she realises who the patient is. She looks towards Robby, who still hasn’t moved.

Dr Santos, now confused by the two, speaks up. “They have a stab wound on their right shoulder, got involved with a drunken man in an alley and he just stabbed them. It’s a little too close to the axillary artery for my liking.”

Dana nods in understanding, deciding to take charge of the situation while Robby still tries to figure out what to do. The room works around him, Dana occasionally leads the students on how to handle the wound. Suddenly, a voice can be heard.

“Robby”, it was muttered so quietly, any softer and no one would have heard it. Everyone looks towards him and he realises you’ve just called his name. He doesn’t know whether to sigh in relief or break down on the spot. He doesn’t leave time to think as he rushes to your side.

“Hey honey, I’ve got you you’re okay” he holds the side of your face and you give him the smallest smile you can. In the state you’re in, that smiles a godsend. Everyone around him seems to finally understand what’s going on. A newfound pressure is felt on everyone.

Robby immediately speaks up and gives out orders what to do, he doesn’t leave your side for a second.

Eventually, your shoulder is cleaned and is being stitched up now by Robby. Everyone has left you two to be on your own.

No words were exchanged between you two. You weren’t sure who would break the ice first.

While he stitches you up, you turn your head to look towards him, you can see the concentration on his face, but you can also see the worry, the stress from today. You don’t know what’s happened but you don’t need to be a genius to know he’s not okay.

“Robby.” You say, softly

He looks up at you and lets you speak.

“Are you okay?”

Robby chuckles quietly, not because of your question but just at how unbelievably caring you are. Even though you’re lying there, stab wound in the shoulder and half sedated, you still want to make sure he’s okay.

“I should be asking you that. What were you doing in an alleyway?” He feels guilty, if he hadn’t gone into work today you two would be at home right now, and you wouldn’t be hurt.

“I went to the shops, figured I’d cook us something special, I knew today would be hard so I wanted you to come home to something nice”

Robby looks at you in adoration. Jesus. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Has it been hard?”

Robby looks down at the floor. He doesn’t need to think about it, today’s been awful. He’s lost too many people, he almost lost Jake, and for gods sake he almost lost you.

No words come out his mouth, he just simply nods and looks up.

You look to him in worry, he’s done with your stitching, so you move your hands and invite him into your arms.

He smiles slightly, he doesn’t want to hurt your shoulder so he walks around to the other side of the bed, gets in it and lies his head on your chest. You carefully wrap your arms around him, your hand going through his hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him

He shakes his head, “not now. Maybe later”

You bring your lips to his hair. “Okay”. You hold him tighter, not wanting to let go. Robby knows he has to be back out there, but a few minutes won’t hurt anyone.

He can’t think of a single moment today where he got the chance to just take a minute. To try and move on from the lives he hasn’t been able to save. Finally, in this moment he can, and with you it makes it significantly better.

~~~~

[suigenerisisadiva]

Halfway Between You & Justice - Jason Todd x Detective!Reader

Pairing: Jason Todd x Detective!Fem!reader + Dick Grayson x Fem!Platonic!reader

Summary: You’re a seasoned GCPD detective, partnered with Gotham’s golden boy, Dick Grayson. Your life is already complicated enough between balancing crime scenes, late-night stakeouts, the looming shadow of corruption and the horde of vigilantes trying to steal your line of work - and source of income. What you don’t need is to fall in love with your partner’s hotheaded, motorcycle-riding, presumed-dead brother. Too late now though. Content Warnings: Swearing, Jason Todd's waist, crime, violence, gore mentions, petnames, lowkey suggestive

A/N: So sorry for ditching guys I was crashing out subtly for a few days, I hope you all enjoy this! Guys I think this is like my first proper fic! hope you are proud!!!

Bae's I needa tag: @gothicbatgirl, pookie ily this one's for you 🫰

The crime scene smelled like burnt plastic from the industrial area and concrete with the musk of bitter wind. Gotham's signature perfume. You stepped under the police tape, flashing your badge, your hair still smelling like Pantene and leave-in, with coffee cooling in your red Frank Green travel mug.

“Third body this week,” Dick muttered beside you. “Same MO. Bullet to the head, throat slit post-mortem.”

“Message kill,” you said. “Somebody wants attention.”

You didn’t flinch at the gore anymore. That part of you was long dead, buried under years of sleepless nights and department budget cuts. But something about this one felt personal. Sloppy. Emotional.

Then came the sound of boots on gravel. You glanced up.

Leather jacket. Helmet under one arm. That smug, lopsided smirk like he knows he's hot, walking around with that waist ratio slutty enough to make Kim K jealous.

Jason Motherfucking Todd.

Dick sighed immediately. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?” spoken in the true sibling tone.

Jason held up his hands after putting his helmet down, grin unfazed. “Relax, Boy Wonder. Just doing some independent investigating. Heard this might be Red Hood turf.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How does a civilian ‘hear’ that?”

“I read the Gotham Gazette,” he said innocently.

You weren’t buying it. But you were staring. The curve of his smirk. The cut of his jawline sharp enough to do geometry on it. The way his black t-shirt clung to his chest, and fit snugly around his biceps.

Unprofessional.

Very unprofessional.

You found Jason again that same night. Sitting on the hood of your BMW m4. Swinging his legs like a schoolboy. But a schoolboy with guns.

“I’m not giving you case files Jay” you said flatly, arms crossed.

“Didn’t ask sweetheart,” he said, then added, “Yet.”

You didn’t drive him away. You didn’t hand him files, either. But you sat on the hood next to him and let him steal sips of your coffee. "Your car suits you by the way" He spoke.

"I don't know how to interpret that statement Jace" you chided back.

"Take it however you want it babe" He said, flashing you a smirk.

And somehow, this became a routine.

You were out on your break, on a shift you don't normally take, but Detective Alvarez called in sick. Which is why you're here, scrolling through Insta reels on a balcony in Gotham feeling the breeze of her air go past your lululemon define jacket, listening to the ambience produced by the city - cars, cop sirens and the occasional yell from a store owner, almost like Gotham's got a Spotify playlist.

Suddenly, you're met with warm arms.

The gasp you gusped made him chuckle. Jason slid an arm down your back just enough to make you feel butterflies, muttering the most devious sentence-

"Doll you wore that to interrogate me? I thought I was the one playing dirty..." he teased. You swat his arm in retaliation, fingers nearly hurting from how built he really is. You remember the time you once saw Jason at the bench press, lifting those things with ease, then you noticed it was your body weight on both sides. That made you feel something.

"Where's Dickwad?"

"We aren't speaking to each other right now" You replied immediately.

"You're supposed to speak to each other how the fuck else are you gonna do your job?" Jason jabbed, getting sassier by the second.

"Barbara complimented my push up bra and he told me I 'looked the same' and I said the same thing for him about his booty gain journey, which really ticked him off I think." You explained.

"He's been pissing me off lately, unplugging my work laptop to charge his fucking electric toothbrush 'cuz it's important to his oral ecosystem." You continued with vigour-

"I ended up hiding his whey isolate in the evidence freezer." You finished.

"That's funny" Jason said softly, hoping you'd never notice how he didn't take his eyes off your features for a second while you were talking.

It came to a head three weeks later.

Dick found out.

He stormed into the bullpen, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. “You’re seeing him?”

You blinked. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“You don’t,” he snapped. “But you’re smarter than this. He’s reckless. Dangerous. You know who he is.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

Jason waited for you outside that night. You didn’t speak for a while.

“Your brother has me on his hit list,” you muttered.

Jason lit a cigarette. “He hates the part of me he used to be. The angry kid. The one who didn’t make peace with dying.”

You looked at him then , like really looked. Past the scars and leather and bravado. And something in your chest broke.

You kissed him first. Not knowing where it would lead you.

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! -

Dividers - @enchanthings @anitalenia @sister-lucifer

Icon Header - @mieczyslawn

Property of suigenerisisadiva, do not repost my work pls & ty

[apoemaday]

Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong

by Ocean Vuong

After Frank O’Hara / After Roger Reeves

Ocean, don’t be afraid. The end of the road is so far ahead it is already behind us. Don’t worry. Your father is only your father until one of you forgets. Like how the spine won’t remember its wings no matter how many times our knees kiss the pavement. Ocean, are you listening? The most beautiful part of your body is wherever your mother’s shadow falls. Here’s the house with childhood whittled down to a single red tripwire. Don’t worry. Just call it horizon & you’ll never reach it. Here’s today. Jump. I promise it’s not a lifeboat. Here’s the man whose arms are wide enough to gather your leaving. & here the moment, just after the lights go out, when you can still see the faint torch between his legs. How you use it again & again to find your own hands. You asked for a second chance & are given a mouth to empty into. Don’t be afraid, the gunfire is only the sound of people trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean, get up. The most beautiful part of your body is where it’s headed. & remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world. Here’s the room with everyone in it. Your dead friends passing through you like wind through a wind chime. Here’s a desk with the gimp leg & a brick to make it last. Yes, here’s a room so warm & blood-close, I swear, you will wake — & mistake these walls for skin.

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you.

this is def an experimental format!! i got this idea while reading the character letters. in the POV of an unknown interviewer (not reader). reader uses they/them.

🔗⚰️📰🔮❤️‍🩹💉🌪️✂️🍀🩰🔫🪡🤹🧲🦋🐍

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🔗 Ada - "Yes, that's my lover. I would say our relationship falls within the typical scope of that sort of thing. Of course, I believe we share something special, but everyone does when they're in love, don't they?" She covers all her bases in one decisive breath, leaving little room for me to comment.

⚰️ Aesop sits perfectly upright, fingers threaded at his knees. His eyes drift to the side and he seems to begin speaking mid-thought. "I had... cautioned myself not to upset their perception of me," he explains. "But they pried, and stayed, regardless of what they found... For that, I'm grateful."

📰 Alice has kept a sharp eye on me the entire time, but it's at this question that she drops the formalities. "I wasn't aware you would be prying into my personal affairs. Where did you learn that name?" Her frankness pins me in place. For some reason, I end up apologizing.

🔮 Eli can't help a sheepish smile from blooming across his face. "Well, truthfully... I don't use this term lightly, but they might be the love of my life." He has been consistently grounded with his responses, so I'm surprised to catch him flustered, however subtle it is. Personally, I'm touched.

❤️‍🩹 Emil considers for a moment. He doesn't meet me in the eye, instead pinning his gaze on nowhere in particular. A faint smile ghosts his lips. After a while, he answers, simply, "Safe."

💉 Emily's hands are folded neatly on her lap. At the mention of that name, her shoulders tense, but she otherwise maintains her composure. "Someone I trust." Her answer is vague and cautious, but acceptable. I'll try to uncover a deeper meaning behind that 'trust'.

🌪️ Ithaqua - "Mine." He is curt and to the point. Yours? I echo, hoping he'll elaborate. His head tilts to the side, and while I can't see the face behind his mask, a sense of dread suddenly overcomes me. I decide not to press further.

✂️ Jack stretches out his hand of blades, flexing each finger in front of him. I can't deny the cold sweat that drips down my spine just by being in his presence. "May I respond with a question of my own?" he says to me. "Suppose a butterfly loses its way, and winds up caught in a spider's web. Wouldn't you agree that the more it writhes and struggles, the more exhilarated the spider becomes?" I don't have the courage to hear out the rest of this analogy.

🍀 Lucky - "I've always been known as a pretty lucky guy, but the luckiest day of my life was when I met them! I remember it was the—" He drags me down a long-winded story about their life together. I get the idea. Eventually I'm forced to cut him off.

🩰 Margaretha twirls a curl of hair, a meek blush dusting her cheeks. "Have you ever been in love before? You're never prepared for the magic of it all. I feel a new rush with them everyday. I know, realistically, all good things come to an end, so I tried to remind myself to expect the worst, but they've proven over and over that... I'll never feel safer than in their arms." After rambling for some time, a look of surprise flashes across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that. Oh, but I've just never met someone who feels so much like true love before."

🔫 Martha doesn't miss a beat. "Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." I look down to double-check the name written in her file. Her watchful gaze follows my line of sight. Are you sure? I try. "Must've been some confusion somewhere," she insists. The next day, I realize all my files on her and (Y/N) have gone missing.

🪡 Matthias - "Wh-What?" he starts, but keeps going before I can repeat the question. "Oh, uh, an ally, I guess." Well, I gathered that much. When I press for more details, his head sinks low, fingers grasping at the armrest. "I don't know what they saw in me. Was it out of pity?"

🤹 Mike's eyes light up and he blinds me with a contagious smile. "(Y/N)'s a sneaky one, and I mean it—they've got me under the trickiest spell of all. Guess what happens every time I think about them?" Egged on by his grin, I take the bait. You get lovesick? I guess. Suddenly, he tosses a handful of butterfly glitter in my face. "I get butterflies!" Very funny, I sigh, exasperated with these carnies. Why did he have that on hand in the first place?

🧲 Norton leans back in his chair, scowling. "What's that got to do with anything?" He snaps a couple times in my face, urging me to "stay on topic." It's hard to say if this question struck a nerve, as he's been uncooperative for most of this interview, but my suspicions point me to prod further. After all, it'd have been much easier if he just said he didn't know them.

🦋 Vera's face contorts into a leery, hostile glower. "Why do you ask that?" Before I can say anything to mitigate the rising tension, she catches herself, and her expression softens slightly. "I'm sorry. That's... someone quite dear to me, so your question took me by surprise."

🐍 Yidhra's follower goes pale, clearly unnerved. "She won't answer that," she tells me through shallow breaths. "Th-This isn't my place to say, but I'd advise you not to involve yourself with that person." As if on cue, I get a sensation I can only describe as a hand slowly wrapping around my neck. It disappears when I move to scratch it. Must've been my imagination.

Part 2