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frmisnow · 2 days ago

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ㅤ▌ ͟PINK RIBBONS & PRETTY LITTLE LIES! ⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀ ♬᭢ 𝟏.𝟓𝐤 smut . nsfw

SUMMARY in which you wear the set of lingerie that jungkook got you last valentine.. back when everything was going well (aka. before you broke up) ─── and he's reminded of how it felt to be yours and vice versa

jungkook shouldn't be here.

he knows it the second he steps through the threshold, the air too sweet, too warm, too familiar. it clings to his skin like a your perfume used to, drowning him in déjà vu. he’s been inside this apartment before — slept in that bed, kissed against that kitchen counter, fucked on that couch.

but right now? he's just a visitor. hell, a guest. not even a welcomed one, at that.

“you said you needed something?” your voice is a bit lower then usual, cautious, the same way it always is when you don’t know what to do with him.

jungkook blinks, coming back to himself. “yeah,” he says, tugging at his sleeve. “uh. my charger.”

it’s a lie. a shitty one.

your brow lifts, unconvinced clearly a bit amused. “your charger?”

“yeah,” he repeats, stuffing his hands into his pockets doing his best as to not act like he’s not already regretting this. “i think i left it here last time.”

he doesn’t mention that last time was two months ago, right before everything went to shit.

you’re still watching him, lips pressed together like you want to say something, maybe call him out. but then you sigh, defeated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ll check,” you reply simply, before turning towards your bedroom.

and that’s when he sees it.

just a glimpse, a flash of pink — delicate, silky, peeking out from beneath your shirt. a thin little strap sliding against your shoulder, trailing down your back, thin and precise.

valentine’s day. the last one — before everything went to shit.

he still remembers it in vivid, aching detail, the way the night bled into morning, how thd walls shook from how hard he fucked you, the imprint of your nails down his back when he m ade you come for the fourth time. how ruined you sounded, voice hoarse from moaning his name, from begging, from pleading — not that you ever needed to. jungkook would have given you anything.

he did.

i got you something, he’d said, fingers running along your spine as you sat on his lap, bare and so fucking soft. you gotta open it, though.

you had, with a lazy, knowing smile — already looking at him like you knew whatever was inside would be sinful. after all, you knew him so well.

the second you pulled out the pink lace, you’d laughed. "you’re such a perv."

yeah? his teeth had found your shoulder, licking over the fragile skin, before biting into it gently. put it on for me, then.

and fuck, you had. you did.

he’d known you’d look good in it, but nothing could have prepared him for how perfect it was — how the fabric hugged your tits, how the straps stretched over your hips, how the sheer paneling did little to nothing in hiding the way your cunt was already glistening for him.

then, fucked you slow at first, dragging it out, making you whimper, making y ou work for it. made you ride him just so he could watch you — so he could see how your tits bounced in that pretty little thing, so he could slip his hands under the fabric and yank until it nearly tore. he’d wanted to see you in it, wanted to make you come in it, wanted to make sure the next time you put it on, all you’d think about was him.

and now — now you’re wearing it again.

not for him.

something ugly twists in his chest.

“why?” his voice is quieter than he means for it to be. rougher.

you freeze, hand still reaching for the box on the top shelf. “what?”

“why are you wearing it?”

there’s a visable pause, just a second, showing you clearly gave more thought into this, then you pretended.

jungkook steps forward, fingers twitching. “did you wear it for him?”

he doesn’t say the name. doesn’t need to.

your shoulders go stiff, but you don’t turn around. “It’s just lingerie, jungkook.”

his jaw clenches. “it wasn’t just lingerie when I bought it for you.”

a deep inhale, measured. “things change.”

his presence is suffocating behind you. close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his breaths are heavier now. fuck, when did he even manage to get so close? you swallow, slow. "it’s just lingerie," you repeat, but there’s no actual conviction behind it.

“take it off.”

jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, a scoff bordering on a laugh, like he's going fucking insane. which by the way this conversation was going, he probably will. then, he’s closing the distance in one step, inked hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so your spine meets his chest. he’s warm. solid.

there's something familar and comforting in feeling him.

“you wore this for him?” his palm drags under your shirt, right to tracing over the lace, which was just as silky as he remembered “him?” like it was an insult to him personally.

you swallow. “jungkook—”

“tell me he made you come in it.” his hand moving below your waistline, flattens against your core. you suck in a sharp breath, heat pooling between your thighs. “tell me he fucked you in my lingerie.” his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. his cock is rock hard, pressing into the small of your back.

“did he make you feel good?” he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your neck. “did he make you beg?” another kiss, softer. his fingers press harder. “did he make you cry for it?”

you gasp, hips bucking forward.

“i bet he didn’t,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers slip under the lace, gliding over your slit audibly groaning at how wet you were, “bet he didn’t fuck you like you deserved.”

“bet he didn’t even touch you like this.” he slides a finger inside you, slow, deep. you whimper, "baby, i know he can't."

your head falls back onto his shoulder, a soft string of noise slipping past of your lips while his thumb rubs gentle circles around your clit, “i can love you so much better than he can.”

you breathe his name out, barerly, rocking your hips against his hand. “fuck,” he hisses, sliding another finger inside you. his lips ghost over your neck, pressing a few more kisses onto the skin, his breathing uneven. “need you, baby.”

his fingers move before his mind does, turning your head to his direction as he presses his lips onto yours, effectively lifting you onto the dresser behind you.

jungkook doesn’t realize he’s barerly breathing until you turn to face him, arms folding over your chest, pushing your tits up against the delicate lace. he can’t even be mad anymore. not when you look like this.

“jungkook,” you start, voice quieter than before. maybe even a little guilty. maybe not.

“can love you so much better than he can,” he breathes against your mouth, lips brushing, voice smitten almost as if he was begging. “you know that, right? you know.”

the hesitation in your eyes almost kills him. but then — then you sigh, melting against him, pressing into his chest with a softness that makes something in his stomach twist. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair, tugging.

“kook,” you whimper, voice barely above a whisper as if it were a secret, only between the both of you. “kiss me.”

while groaning, jungkook drags you up against him, hands gripping at the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs around his waist. kisses you until you’re gasping, until you’re tilting your head back, mouth agape, letting him trail his mouth down the curve of your jaw, your throat, biting down when he reaches your collarbone.

he stumbles toward the bed, nearly toppling both of you over when he lays you down, panting, hands running over your thighs, pushing them apart. his cock aches in his sweats, already damp at the tip, already too hard to be rational.

“you wore this for him?” he asks again, just to watch you squirm. just to see the way your cheeks flush, the way your brows pinch together, that guilty expression that was almost grazing slutty.

“it’s just lingerie,” you whisper, shaky. who were you even fooling? not jungkook, that's for sure.

he snickers, disapprovingly yet there was no real malice, not in his gaze, not in his tone. he licks over the lace first, just to make you whine, pressing the fabric against your soaked cunt with his tongue, groaning at the taste. then, he tugs the panties to the side again, diving in properly, flattening his tongue against you.

your thighs jolt, fingers curling into the sheets, a choked gasp escaping when jungkook drags his tongue up your slit, slow, deliberate, savoring.

“fuck,” he mutters against you, hot breath sending a shiver up your spine. he licks again, rougher this time, pressing in, teasing at your entrance before flicking back up to your clit.

your breath stutters, hips bucking, but his hands are already on you, gripping, holding you down with a bruising force.

“keep still,” he says, voice thick, taunting. you can only whimper, thighs trembling, while jungkook hums in approval, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, slow and deep. your fingers find his hair, tugging, and he groans, pressing his tongue against you harder.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he breathes, slipping a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing slow circles over your slick folds, spreading your wetness. “bet he’s never had you like this, huh?”

you don’t answer. can’t. not when jungkook slides a finger inside you, then another, stretching you, pressing deep until he finds that spot that has you gasping, back arching. oh sweet sweet past, guess some things really do stay the same.

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 16 hours ago

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Woke up from the sweetest dream of eating ice cream with Jason in the middle of the night, both in our jammies hunched over a pint in opposite sides of the kitchen island and its just so special to not be doing this exact thing alone.

"There's something so sweet about loving and being loved. Knowing and being known. Especially by a man who makes every past moment of suffering so worth it if it's lead us to this." 🥺🥺

Late Night Desserts

Pure Fluff ~1k words

It's late, the kind of late that's so far into the night that you can start to call it early. Your kitchen is dark, lit only by the dim street lights and the occasional stray beams of moonlight that break the clouds hanging low over Gotham's sky. There's the sounds of cars driving by, the faint whirl of a helicopter flying overhead, but it's all drowned out by the quiet giggles bouncing off the walls of your apartment.

"Why are you even whispering," you stumble out between hushed laughs, voice barely above a breath as you point your spoon at Jason, eyes narrowing in accusation.

He grins, mock offense dripping into his quiet tone, "I could ask you the same question, sweetheart."

"I'm whispering because you're whispering," you bite back, gaze leaving him so you can dip your spoon into the pint of your favorite ice cream resting between you on the counter.

Jason scoffs, all teasing and playing as he reaches over to knock his spoon against yours, digging into the frozen dessert for another taste, "I'm whispering because it's still dark outside, and the walls of your apartment are thinner than paper."

"That's not my fault," You pout, taking your own bite of the ice cream. Your eyes narrow, but there's no heat to the action, not when the moment feels as sweet as the dessert you're sharing.

"Didn't say it was, doll," he hums, catching you entirely off guard when he reaches over the kitchen island to swipe his thumb over the corner of your lip, collecting what remains of the ice cream on his finger. His gaze never leaves yours as he licks his thumb clean, smile never fading.

He seems intent on knocking your world off center for a second time, because he speaks again, an easy grin on his face, like his words have no consequence either way, "You could always move in with me. Then it wouldn't matter how loud we were at night. Opens all kinds of doors, ya know?"

You think you manage to keep the surprise off your face when you answer (you don't), "It would?"

"Sure," he hums, jabbing his spoon back into the cartoon, it's the only sign that he feels even slightly nervous over the question he poised, "We could cook after eight pm without your neighbors complaining, blast music in the morning, and, ya know, if we ever get the dog you've talked about, it would be nice to have thicker walls."

His words sweep you right off your feet, his easy answer, the slight tension in his shoulders, all point to one thing. He's thought about this. He's planned a future with you, even if it's just coming up with small, mundane reasons on why you should move to his apartment.

The realization steals your breath away, and it's only when his face furrows and his eyes start to dart over your face, searching for any clues of how you feel, that you remember you have to respond.

"That sounds nice. I'd like that, " You say, voice melting into a different kind of soft from your previous whispers. It's a soft that's fond, almost reverent in the face of his feelings for you, the cusp of something more you want to build with him.

The tension drains from his body, and his smile returns to something bright, something real, "Good." Jason lifts his spoon back to his mouth, face thoughtful like he's mulling over his next words, "You could move in anytime, you know. If you wanted. Half your stuff is already there anyway."

The ice cream melting onto the counter doesn't matter anymore, and you drop your spoon, letting it clatter loudly to the granite surface. Jason only has enough time to look confused and vaguely alarmed by the noise before you round the island to get to his side.

He tries to play off his eagerness with a nonchalant shrug, but you see right through your boyfriend. And suddenly, the moment feels so big.

The feeling nearly bursts from your chest. The warm, fluttery love that's so pure and right in your soul that it's nearly overwhelming. The idea that every path you've ever walked has led you to him, and him to you.

He opens his mouth to talk, and you steal whatever words he means to say with your tongue. The kiss is sweet, so, so sweet. Sweeter than the dessert you were sharing, sweeter than anything you could tell him, sweeter than all the emotions fluttering in your stomach over just how much he means to you.

Jason kisses you back with a softness that speaks to all the adoration he feels for you, dropping his own spoon to cup your face, to wrap an arm around your waist to draw you closer.

You only pull away first so you can watch the way his eyes flutter open slowly, lingering in the ghost of your lips against his.

"What was that for," he asks, voice so breathless and dreamy it nearly brings you to your knees.

"Just wanted to," you hum out, pressing a kiss to his jaw, to his chin, to his cheek. It's not a lie, it just doesn't encompass all the warmth you feel in your heart, the goofy smile you can't wipe from your face.

His dumbstruck smile matches your own as he squeezes your waist, saying everything he needs to say back with a simple touch. You melt into arms, ice cream, and quiet whispers long forgotten.

But you don't need to explain, don't have to elaborate. Jason knows what you mean when you press another gentle kiss to his lips, he knows what you're trying to say when you tangle your finger in his hair and memorize the feel of his body pressing against yours.

He always seems to know what you can't find the words to say.

It's just a moment, just a stolen minute of peace as dark creeps towards day, but it's yours. Yours and his. Another warm memory to write into your story, another step towards something that feels like forever.

The moon lights up your kitchen as it breaks the clouds once again, and Jason chases your mouth for another head-spinning kiss, sealing the promise of words unsaid, emotions that are far bigger than can be spoken into the calm, quiet air of the night.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader

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amoristt · 1 day ago

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the night falls like heaven

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, pining, nam-gyu's pov, lots of angst in an edgy way, very light drxg mentions,

a/n: this'll be a 2 part mini series! so excited to get this started ugh tysm to anon who requested this word count: 9.2k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・Nam-gyu was not a man of many regrets.

If he had to count, he could fit them all on one hand. Mostly from when he was a teen. Younger and somehow even more impulsive than he was now, drinking through money like water and getting into fights he’d never remember. The worst of them all, however, was one he hadn’t thought would really eat at him. It was unlike himself to get hung up over a girl of all things, but good lord, he was hanging. Strings and all, like a marionette, bleeding and sore at the joints.

Tough to swallow couldn’t even compare to the feeling of when that specific regret suddenly pops up in the same room after years of abandon. If he hadn’t been so down bad, the sight of you would have only ruffled up his feathers enough to remind him of a better time, but in God’s honest eyes, those feathers of his had been ruffled since the dawn of the very instant you left. The door hadn’t even had a chance to hit you on your way out, nothing but dust and tears in your wake. He was stuck fast, left to his own devices, bouncing between wondering why he let it go so bad and whilst also begging God himself to make you stop being such a bitch.

But the worst part, the worst part is that even now you still carry this aura of over it all around you. Self-respect colliding with the want to be loved was never an easy tango to dance, all steps just pulling and pushing and trying to snuff out useless feelings and red hot passion. But you twirled until he did what he did best and nudged you to the brink of your breaking point. All that sweet, sweet adoration drained from your face and he saw it- dignity. He saw it on you on your way out of his apartment, storming past him with biting tears in your eyes. And now, years later, he gets to see it again from across the room.

You’re sitting on a high, high bunk you’ve claimed as yours, people watching. Other than the initial moment you’d seen him in the bubble of people, you haven't bothered sparing him a second glance. It was a beautiful moment- your eyes widening, stopped dead in your tracks before you were on the move all over again. He’s sneaking glances through the corners of his eyes, watching you over his shoulder, and you can’t even give him another second of your day. And the thing that really bothers him is that he knows he can’t stop.

Out of everyone in this room, your distant presence is a fiery beacon in the darkness and he’s an angry, bitter moth. It’s in his very nature to circle and flutter one step behind, seeking the light, burning at its touch. Singed wings and an endless sneer. If only he could just stop touching the heat, he would surely move on. But he just can’t, and the fact that you can pisses him off so much it makes him lose his breath at times.

He wished, with the very core of his entire being, that you were weaker. Or, at least, stupider. Maybe then you would have lived up to his expectations and showed up to his door, or at his club, teary eyed and lonely without his superior presence around. He could see it behind his eyes at night, the waver in your voice when you’d beg him to come back into your arms, and more importantly, back into your bed.

I told you so, he’d say, with that shit eating grin and a hand on your waist guiding you out from the cold.

A forlorn, guideless sheep in need of your shepherd. He could be that for you. If only the word boyfriend didn’t make him shudder with every last fiber of his being. If only that specific little thing wasn’t your breaking point. Your face haunted him- that halo around your irises fading into something far away and charred when he’d had the nerve to actually laugh at you for it. You were grabbing your things and leaving, and he sat watching every moment in clips. It wasn’t anything, back then. You were just mad, in a few days you’d be right as rain climbing into his lap and peppering kisses along his throat. You’d be back, he was sure of it.

But then the days turned into weeks. And then, to his distaste, those weeks faded into months of silence. He started to catch himself looking for you in crowds, visiting places you’d frequented at just to linger around like an awkward ghost in case he spotted you through the shifting crowds. But you were gone- vanished.

Fine. You’ll never see me again, asshole.

Those words had been etched into the very walls of his cranium since they’d left your lips in a scathing hiss. Such nasty words, but they shook with every consonant.

Among your pride was a healthy blend of honesty. You had been true to your word- he really did never see you again. Wiped your slate spotless of anything Nam-gyu.

And it drove him fucking crazy. It made him sick to his stomach in a way he did not think was possible. It was out of control- he couldn’t stop thinking about you, you, you. He missed you more than he didn’t, and he was angrier at himself than he’d like to admit. So instead of admitting, he funnels all that anger into the very shape of you. Drags in the idea of you, his memories of you and shoves them down, down, down, until he truly did think he hated you, after all.

Until he’s clenching his fist so tight he’s drawing blood and telling himself he’s better off now, without some whining bitch in his ear begging him to stick that boyfriend pin into the thinness of his skin. Thinks that without you hanging on his arm all the damn time, he could really go out and have some fun. He thinks, and he thinks and he thinks until he’s thought too much and suddenly he loves you again and he misses you so bad it’s crushing him under the sheer weight of your absence.

So, Nam-gyu does what Nam-gyu does best once again, and he drowns himself out with the bitter taste of drugs on his tongue and the sear of alcohol in his blood.

It all stops.

For a time, anyway.

You always found ways to seep back into his mind one way or another. Songs that would only make it a second in before he was mashing the skip button. A tv show you’d watched together surviving on the screen roughly a whole minute before it’s switched off. Sometimes it was when he saw something he knew you’d like- a shitty video or meme. Other times you came to him in whispers while he laid out on his own living room floor, out of his mind watching the blank ceiling above him twist and writhe under his spotty vision with a needle poking out of his arm.

But, most times… Most times you would slither your way to the forefront of his mind just before bed. The touch of you, the smell of you.

The shape of you underneath him. Hands and quiet breaths. He could still hear the noises you made ringing in his ears, stored away in his memories just to taunt him when he was indisputably alone. Soft skin, even softer thighs. Always so warm, and so wet. So willing. You would come to him while he curled over himself in bed, drunk on porn and memories.

And afterwards, when Nam-gyu had finished, he would throw his head back onto his pillow and ignore the way it felt like there was a lump in his throat. And that would piss him off even more, because fuck, you should be there with him. Laying by his side running your hands through his hair until he’s falling asleep balancing on the fine line of afterglow and dozing off.

But you aren’t. You’re doing fuck all with who knows in places he’s never been to, places you probably begged him to go but he couldn’t even remember the name of. You hadn’t answered a single one of his texts, you hadn’t picked up a single call and everytime he hears the first couple seconds of your stupid voicemail he wants to crush his phone in his hands. Vexation was a slippery slope into the fires of fury- rage was like a parasite under his skin, eating away at what little rational thinking he had.

Voicemail after voicemail. Text after ignored text. Anger was the hardest stage- rage grew horns on the crown of his head and it turned him into something he couldn’t recognize. Or, something he refused to recognize- desperate and heartsick.

It was supposed to be you. Not him.

He filled the endless gaps of you with drugs often and women when he could. For a short time it would work and he would wonder why he ever let someone else get him so, so low. But then the drugs would wear off. The random woman in his room that he never bothered to learn the name of would grab her clothes and saunter out the door. He stopped letting them stay the night. He could never sleep, stared at the ceiling until 5am wondering why he still felt like shit. He would be right back where he started, sitting on the couch, staring at the door watching you leave over and over again.

You stopped updating your socials, quit hanging out with the few people that bounced between his and your crowd, successfully scrubbed him of your life entirely. After a year, he resorted to asking around if anyone had seen you. The answer, as always, was a firm no. It was a corrosive feeling, a constant churn and thrum within the cage of his ribs. It made him even more unrecognizable to himself. Made him invite women into his lap just to shove them away when they didn’t smell like you, or sound like you. Or laugh like you.

It had been so, so perfect before. It was fun, and it was hot all the time, and sex with you felt like heaven was a place on earth. Why couldn’t you see that? Why did you have to go and ruin it with your words and pleading eyes? Nam-gyu doesn’t roll like that. You knew that. He’s a free spirit, he tells himself. No chains, no labels. No holding him down. Even if it was at the feet of this gorgeous, gorgeous body and a honey sweet voice that just always seemed to know what to say. Beautiful eyes that always watched, a smile so saccharine, whispering words against his ear so dirty it made him shiver just to think about.

The world was too vast to be held down.

But, truth be told, he was held down.

He is held down.

When you walked out of his apartment those years ago, he never left that spot, chewing his nails and anxiously spinning the ring on his finger, watching you go. He started seeing it behind his eyes. Replays it, changes the course, wonders where he’d be right now if he’d just said something different.

Finding you at the games was like divine intervention. It had to be. Some higher power had crossed his path and plopped you right in front of him. With rolling eyes and a deadpan stare at anything except for him, sure but you were there and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. God had heard his drug induced prayers of stupor.

Now it was all about waiting. Waiting for the right moment to dive in and recapture you within him and he’d be right back to drinking you in at every chance he had. He’d do it differently this time, do it right so you’d cling to him and wonder why you ever wanted to leave at all. Make you wonder why you were so stupid to have been so stubborn when everything you could ever need was in the palm of your hand. He was sure of it. That strong, bullheaded expression would blitz is something vulnerable in his hands. A lurch of excitement riveted under his skin among the nerves.

For now, he waits, and watches. Your presence could never go unnoticed by his dark eyes.

It’s unfortunate for him that Thanos takes a notice to you, too. It’s hard not to, really, when every time he follows Nam-gyu’s locked line of sight it always leads back to you- this little sweet thing perched up at the peak of the bunks alongside the back, watching the room with this bored stare between mundane yapping with other players.

“Someone you know?” Thanos’s voice had this subtle drip to it, this underlining excitement that Nam-gyu picks up on almost instantly. His expression stays cool, mostly uninterested despite the way he can’t seem to pry his eyes away from you even as he answers.

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?”

And then he’s stuck. Because his mouth opens for a split second to say, my ex, but he can’t quite say that, now can he? But he also can’t say an old friend either, because you simply weren’t. What you two had was something else entirely- a new plane he struggled to navigate, lovely when things were good, a hellscape when they weren't. The lines were always so blurred, fuzzy with sex and warm laughter.

He decides on something mostly true. “Someone I used to hang out with.”

“Girlfriend?” Thanos’s brow raises with his chirp, leaning forward with clear interest.

“No.” It comes out quick- too quick, and too heavy. Tinged venom with more baggage than even he could handle at times. Thanos catches it on impact and whistles.

“I see. So you won’t care if I go chat her up? Hm?”

“Don’t bother. She’s not like that.” Nam-gyu’s scoffs before he can stop himself, this unsettling seed of jealousy planting itself in his chest.

“Hm… I guess we’ll see, huh?”

You’re dismounting from your bed and climbing onto the stairs when Thanos jumps to his feet, and Nam-gyu can already feel that itchy panic starting to blotch away at his skin. His hands, his cheeks. That seed takes its place within him bearing vicious roots.

“Man, don’t bother,” He’s touching at Thanos’s sleeve, his shoulder, anywhere he can to try and gather his friend’s attention. “She can be kind of a bi-”

All it takes is a swat to Nam-gyu’s chest to stop him dead in his tracks, words dying his throat. Shut down, watching his friend take quick steps to you, Nam-gyu following close behind to witness. If only he could be firmer, never demanding, always suggesting. Always rolling over and showing his soft underbelly at Thanos’s whim. Instead, he lets his lips press into a tight line and let’s it all happen right before him.

You’re on the bottom step and taking a seat, and you see the rapper approaching before he gets a word in, but your eyes skip over him entirely and settle onto Nam-gyu’s. Distress is building in his muscles, but he’s making damn sure to keep himself in check.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone? You want a friend?”

Up closer now, sharing your space, he sees all the things he’d been missing so deeply throughout the years. You still look just as he remembered- still bearing this expression of bemused coolness, still having these all seeing eyes that seemed to cut right through him.

“A friend?” you hum, and your voice threatens to pull him in like gravity. “You wanna be my friend?”

If jealousy could sprout through his skin, it’d be an ugly beast of horns and claws. But it can’t, so instead, it takes shape in the way Nam-gyu’s eyes are flicking between yours and the rappers, hands wrapped up in his sleeves.

“Stick with me, yeah? I promise to keep you safe. My number one priority.” And Thanos is patting his chest, flashing those painted nails. Makes Nam-gyu’s chest tighten, his stomach growing sicker by the second.

Damn, you can see it, too. There’s no denying the way he’s cringing behind that distant smirk, and he doesn’t think to hide the way he’s twisting his rings on his fingers. When you click your tongue, he knows what's coming.

“Stick with you, hm… Sorry, but I try to work alone. Partner’s tend to, how do I say…” Those eyes of your slice through him all over again, honing into him when you finish your sentence. “Disappoint me.”

Fuck. Disappointment. Oh god, how that sears into Nam-gyu’s skin. The way you look the rapper up and down, visually sizing him up, would make his heart leap into his throat if he were under that same scrutiny. He never understood how you could always be this intense with such a sweet, sweet face. Kindness was certainly a luxury and he missed it, that never ending fire that kept him warm.

“I can change that for you,” Thanos sings. “I’m a legend here for a reason.”

“Legend? I’ve never heard of you.” Your brows raise in amusement.

“You will. Thanos.” He puffs his chest out and nods, a half cocked grin playing over his lips. “Guy’s like me, we don’t disappoint.”

The man actually finds the nerve to reach down and pluck your hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips. Nam-gyu feels red hot scorching through his face but he’s locked in place, watching it like a car crash. Relieved when you yank your hand free and shove it into your jacket’s pocket. It’s the only good thing out of this entire interaction, he finds, especially so when Thanos’s smirk falters into a tight surprised line.

“Don’t go and do all that. Guy’s like you will always disappoint me.” You lean back against the wall of the step, vexation evident over your features. “How about you talk to me again after the next game, yeah? Maybe I’ll feel different. Thanos.”

You always were so good at slamming the door in people's faces, always brought Nam-gyu joy to witness you shut down the advances of some poor loser trying to gain your affections. Thanos knows he’s been hung out in the cold, too. Barking up the wrong tree in the wrong neighborhood in the wrong country. So, he takes a loose step backwards and shrugs.

“Your loss.” He sighs, and Nam-gyu follows him all the way back to his bunk in brooding silence.

Wringing his fingers, he can’t help himself when casts a glance over his shoulder to find you one last time before you’re obscured behind metal frames and moving bodies. When he does, he feels a rush of heat in his cheeks when you’re already stuck fast staring right back, watching him go. He’s silent when he sits down at his little corner of the dormitory, silent when Gyeong-su is harping praises at Thanos. Silent, even, when Thanos says he’s determined to bring you to his side of the map.

However, he noticeably tenses when Thanos mutters, “What a babe, huh? I should go visit her after lights out.”

Almost immediately there’s hands on his shoulders, pushing and nudging him, demanding his attention. The deepest of sighs leaves the rapper, ducking his head to find Nam-gyu’s eyeline.

“Come on, man. Don’t be pissed, it’s in my nature, boy. Be honest. You into her?”

“Me and her…” Nam-gyu swallows. “We used to mess around.”

“Lucky you.” Thanos’s is shoving Nam-gyu’s shoulders again. “You cut her lose?”

No, she cut me loose. But Nam-gyu can’t bring himself to say that, the words lost and barred at the tip of his tongue. In the silence, Thanos takes it as confirmation.

“That’s so cold. If I had her, I’d never let her out of my sight. Sheesh.”

Nam-gyu can’t even form words at all, anymore, irritation and envy wrapping tendrils around his throat and snuffing him out. Your earlier words spin through his brain like a carousel- come find me after the next game. Were you being serious? Were you just saying that to mess with him? He knows you- he knows your tone better than he even realizes, but he suddenly can’t decipher what’s honesty and what isn’t anymore. Jealousy blinds him, thick lenses leading him in all sorts of binds.

He should have talked to you. He should have made the first move and made sure the first time he was breathing your air was alone. Now he’s anxious, he’s resentful, and he’s humiliated for some reason he can’t quite place. It doesn't help when he can’t resist the urge to look at you one last time, just one for the road, and you’re chatting idly with a man lounging on the other side of the steps you’re currently sitting on. There’s a five foot gap between your bodies but Nam-gyu doesn’t care- the anger that rips through him is blind, you may as well have been fucking the man right in front of him.

It’s all he can see, tunnel vision encompassing him all the way until the moment lines start to form for lunch. Stewing in his jealousy, a bitter taste blooming over his tongue, he doesn’t jump in line because he’s got an appetite, but simply because you were rather eager to fill your belly. He tails you, matches every step and still has to jump out in front of a random player from taking the spot directly behind you.

You notice him with a fleeting look tossed over your shoulder, eyes darting from the corners of your eyes and then forward, still as a statue. Desperate to not interact.

Nam-gyu can’t help himself.

“You into Thanos?”

You audibly laugh at him, and the sound makes him shred the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Everything. It’s everything to me.

You look up at him over your shoulder, watching him through your thick lashes with scorn written all over those beautiful irises. There’s a flash image of you- a memory, tangled between the bedsheets, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes and tear stained cheeks with his hand wrapped around your throat. It’s quick but it hits him like a sucker punch right to the gut. He sucks in a sharp breath. He wants to touch you- he almost does, but the line moves forward a beat and you’re moving with it away from his hesitating fingers.

“I’m just asking.” He’s trying to be coy, but you can see right through him.

“You worried, Nam-gyu?”

That hits him like a sucker punch too. He’d forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue, how it rolled off so perfect and pretty even when you were pissed at him. Sometimes specifically when you were pissed at him, this bubbling anticipation running through him in waves, your passion always the spark lighting the fire in his belly.

“I’m not worried.”

“You are.” Clocked him, again. Peered into the windows of him and saw that angry ocean of spite and regret behind his eyes. “I know you are. I can see it on you.”

“Not worried.” Nam-gyu shrugs, but he can’t meet your eyes anymore.

Another sigh ghosts from your lips, but it’s quieter, defeated, almost.

“I’m not interested in your friend. I’m not interested in anyone.”

And then, he says it. Quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to truly hear.

“...You seemed interested.”

“So you are worried.” You’re crossing your arms and he stares down into your hair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What if I was? You clearly had nothing to say about it. You were right there- you didn’t tell him we had history? Or did I mean that little to you?”

You’re mad. Holy shit, you’re still so mad at him. But then his brain scrambles to tell him the good side of things- anger is not indifference. So in some ways, maybe more than others, he’s still in that little dome of yours ratting around amongst your thoughts. Means that if he does this right, it would mean something to you to be better this time.

His lips press into a tight line. He should have talked to you, and now it’s biting him in the ass. It seemed like everything always bit him in the end. And he always let it happen, watched and never interfered. You drive the nail you’d plunged into him even deeper when you throw his words, from all those years ago, right back in his face. That last thing he had said to you before you, or the idea of you, had become a black hole.

“You know what, Nam-gyu? What was it you had said? Oh- uh, why don’t you focus on yourself and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

It stings. It stings so bad that he physically recoils from the sound of his voice on your tongue, words spilling that just don’t seem right coming from you. Bitter resentment rises in his throat, this reflexive coping mechanism to bite back overtaking his senses. He wants to say I shouldn’t have said that. He wants to say, hear me out. But what ends up leaving him is just as ugly as the rest of his feelings.

“Jesus. You’re still a bitch.”

The very instance those words tumble from him, he’s already regretting it with every fiber of his being. Even more so when you pluck your bento box from the guard and spin on your heels to glare absolute daggers into the very pits of his soul.

“Get over yourself. I’m glad we had this talk, it was very refreshing.”

This time he does jump to stop you, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just listen-”

“No.”

He doesn’t hide the way he watches you scamper off to your little ledge, hopping up onto your bed and enjoying your vantage point above all else, focusing on your meal. The man you’d been chatting with earlier is in the bed next to yours and that’s just fucking great. The guard has to pry his stare off of you, and a bento box is practically shoved into his chest, urging him out of line.

Nam-gyu hates the stone anchoring in his guts. Almost as much as he hates how his appetite never quite returned. All food tasted the same when you left, nothing compared to what you’d used to make him.

The bento box was no different.

That night, sleep avoided him. There was something keeping him awake- buzzing under his skin no matter how many times he’d rolled over and shifted himself into a new position. Of course he knew what it was- it never really left him, after all. The fact of knowing you were across the room, all alone in your bed, was this incessant knock in the back of his skull tapping him back into reality whenever he found himself comfortable enough to doze off. His mind was stuck on you, as always, wondering what you looked like right now.

Did you sleep the same as before? Laying on your side, hair messed over the sides of your face and splayed over the pillow, those heavy lashes of yours kissing along the bone of your cheeks. He always told himself that it was you who was attached, that he was some great being and you simply touched the stars through him. How wrong he had been to think that, when the entire time he’d fit so perfectly against you, he a piece to your puzzle.

How wrong he had been, because when he’s staring up idly at the ceiling, he thinks of the better days in his life. Always, always, it was you. Thinking of you sitting pretty in his passenger seat, watching out the window as the world blurred by in rushes. The wind blowing through your hair, your necklace catching the glint of the sun. You’d feel his eyes on you and you'd turn and smile at him so darling, so lovely, that he thought it could heal. Remembering when you’d walk into a room, shining like a beacon just for him. You’d find his lap, find his hair, find his lips against your own and you’d cry his name like a prayer.

He was an idiot to have thought he was the something in the nothing- it was you.

Even when he finally drifted off into sleep were you still infecting the very membrane of his mind. In his dreams, you were just as warm as you had always been. Bated breaths, hanging onto every word that left his lips, fingers that longed to touch and stroke and feel. His heart slowed to a peaceful beat, and his body curled into his pillow and blanket, trying to recreate the shape of you in his arms. For a time that evening, it worked.

But then he woke up, and Thanos was leaning over his bed asking him if he was dead, and all those wonderful moments he’d relived were gone in a rush of bright lights and endless chatter bouncing off the walls of the dormitory. Like an addiction, the first thing he thought of when he sat up, was you. Thought about you all the way through the winding staircases and into a giant room with rainbow’s painted over the hard floor. So lost in thought that he almost misses it when the speaker starts instructing them- a 5 player minigame race.

Teams of five. Okay, he could do that. Easy. Gyeong-su, him, Thanos. That was already three.

It’s natural instinct when he starts to search for you in the bubble of people, his fourth member, even though he’s more than sure you’re all too excited to send him packing. The way you had looked at him at dinner the day before, he wasn’t sure if you’d even entertain a conversation with him at all, let alone join their team. But this is beyond an argument- beyond him trying and failing to lull you in, this is life and death.

“Hey, there’s your girl again.” Thanos spots you first. He follows Thanos’s line of sight and sure enough, there you are, standing with your hands shoved into your pockets with this far away expression he can’t quite read.

His girl. It would make him shiver, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tweaking.

“Let’s go see if she’s changed her mind.”

Thanos is running his hands through his hair and popping the collar of his tracksuit, a particular bounce to his step when he bounds right for you. Just as the first time, always on the lookout for yourself, you spot him coming before he gets to you. Already you’re annoyed.

By the time Nam-gyu slithers up beside him, you’re already turning Thanos’s first wave of advancements down, a snark to your tone and a glint in your eyes.

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Thanos blinks, looks left and then right. “You’re good? I don’t see a team?”

“I’ll find one.”

“You got one right here,” He pats his chest again, before he slings his arm over Nam-gyu’s shoulder haphazardly. “Come on. You’ll be safe.”

The intensity in which you roll your eyes is fierce- an expression Nam-gyu really had only thought he could draw out of you. To make matters worse for his friend, you don’t even bother with saying no again. Instead you merely wave a dismissive hand and turn on your heels, meandering into the crowd.

“You were right, Nam-su.” Thanos’s face drops and he unwinds his arm from Nam-gyu’s shoulder. “Not getting anywhere with that one.”

Nam-gyu is so focused watching you, that all he murmurs is, “It’s Nam-gyu.”

“Yeah. Nam-su, Nam-gyu. Look over there.” He has to force himself to look away, following Thanos’s point in the other direction you’d gone. A girl with short black hair stands off to the side, eyes traveling and sizing up all her potential team mates. Thanos pops his collar again, a hound dog chasing a brand new scent. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

For the first time, Nam-gyu doesn’t follow him. He says, you go, you go, and lets Thanos wind himself up all on his own before watching him go. He’s much more concerned with you and your team, this sense of anxiety starting to bud in his gut.

He finds you like a moth to flame. Your shoulders slump at the sight of him, tired and irked.

“Not this again.” You groan. “What, do you think you’re gonna come sweeten me up and I’ll say yes? I’m not playing on your damn team.”

Nam-gyu shakes his head and steps in front of you when you try to turn away again. His nerves are on the rise, and so is his temper. You draw it out of him like nothing else, he can’t stop himself.

“Why not?” He asks, looking down at you with furrowed brows. You cross your arms, barring yourself from him.

“Because I’m not.”

“This is no time to be stubborn. You don’t know what the next game is. You might need guys on your team.”

“I plan on it. There’s other men here other than you and whatever the hell his name is.”

Other men. Nam-gyu’s mouth dries up, his fingers already wringing in his sleeves. His jaw tenses with his temper, teeth grinding.

You didn’t need other men, not when he would do anything under the sun to keep you safe. Anyone else may just let you die. Can’t you see that?

“Why are you being-... Being like-...” He stops himself. Holy shit, his brain actually fires off the warning shot and he stops dead in his tracks staring at you in bewilderment. You adopt this expectant glare, a spiteful uptick to your lips that darkens your eyes.

“Say it.” You sneer. “Go ahead, say it. I’m being a bitch, right?”

The word fights against his lips to get out. You’re waiting for it, at the edge of your seat, fully ready to take it in and chew it up and spit it out right back at him. But he bites it back and he swallows it down into his chest because this means something to him. Because it might mean something to you.

“Being like this.” He stammers. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Your eyes widen just a fraction. “Keep me alive?”

“Can you really trust anyone here? You know me.”

“I do know you.” A flash of something provoked and somber rivets within your eyes. Anger mounting, your heart colliding with your brain in real time right before him. “That’s exactly why I won’t be on your side.”

If he’d had his foot in the door before, you were properly shoving it back outside. He doesn't know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think of as a creature of impulse, and unfortunately when it came to you that meant he was all hands.

“Wait-” He catches you just as you’re turning away, tries to bulldoze over your defiance and smooth out all the harsh edges of your protests with the broad flats of his palms. Fingers clutching your tracksuit at your shoulders and then he’s realizing that he’s touching you for the first time in years. Your skin from underneath your jacket is just as warm he remembers, your eyes are just as doe-like at his touch too. Stubborn and ornery but overflowing with passion and static energy that settled into his bones. He needs it, he needs it. The obsession of you hits him in waves of yearn.

He needs you more than air, he thinks.

“Get your hands off of me, right now.” But you aren’t tearing him away- so maybe that’s progress.

“Come on.” He ducks his head, shoulders slumping, and it physically hurts him to feel this desperate. “Stay with me.”

Oh, you don’t like those words one bit. They hit your eardrums and your eyes narrow in slits, and then yeah, you’re reaching up and catching his wrists in his iron grip before ripping his paws off your jacket. It takes a long moment for you to speak, but when you do, he swears he can hear the devil amidst the heartache.

“You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again.”

His hands twitch to touch you again- anything to keep you there for a moment longer.

“Come on.”

Sadness like pits swirl in your eyes, drags your lips into a frown. “You gotta’ stop Nam-gyu. I can’t do it.”

An awful, awful mass grows in his stomach when you turn your back on him. Gets bigger with every inch you build between you and him, threatens to take over entirely and swallow him whole right in the middle of that room. If it did, and he was to be gulped up by the void, perhaps he wouldn't have to feel like this any longer. And he wouldn’t have to watch you disappear behind all the moving bodies.

He was weaker than he was three years ago. You made him weaker. Back then, if you’d been so sure of yourself he found it rather easy to deter you. A beastly way about him when he would have just ripped you by the hand and brought you over to his team and made you sit the hell down and just stay with him. Something possessive, something under his skin at the thought of you sharing the same air as anyone other than him. You used to be so malleable in his hands- but he knows, now more than ever, that that was truly never the case. You let yourself be pliable. You let yourself fall to him. He could never, not even now, make you do anything. Not really.

That’s the part that burns him to the peaks of his soul. That strength about you. You’re so much stronger than him, with an energy iron so it’s like running headfirst into a wall when you’d no longer graced him with your softness. Such a double edged sword, that will of yours. That attitude and the passion made him feel alive. Cold and disposed after you’d properly slammed the gate right in his face. No leverage, no space for him in your heart any longer.

It’s cold, Nam-gyu finds. Lonely without you.

And then Thanos goes and invites some random girl with a poor attitude (that isn’t yours) and an even weaker buddy. He tries to tell him- remind his friend of the potential disadvantage but like always all it took was a dismissive wave to get him to screw his lips shut. Rolled over, tongue caught in his throat, weakened.

He spends a majority of his time waiting for his teams turn arguing with Se-mi and tossing gazes over his shoulder to keep a very keen eye on you, only to find a sneer growing on his features after seeing you chatting with the same player as earlier, the man with the bed next to yours. Laughter and smiles roll from your lips as natural as breathing air, and he’s nudging you with his arm and you’re letting him with this expression of pure amusement.

That should be him.

That ugly face of betrayal peeks through the cracks all over again, with guilt and anger and regret following in tow close behind. Sitting on his shoulders like little devils, spinning and racing through his body in waves. If you saw his face- you’d never suspect it, but his hands shake in his lap. His jaw tenses so tightly his teeth could burst into powder. Squared shoulders and an endless drag to his lips. Something in the sight of you enjoying that guys presence is reminding him of all these shitty feelings he’d been faced with when you two were together- well, no, not together, he remembers- and then he’s even angrier. Angry at you, angry at that random ass player you were talking up, angry at himself for letting it get here in the first place.

Thanos pops open his necklace beside him and draws a fun little pill from its contents, and Nam-gyu makes it a mission to get his hands on one of those sweet little pick-me-ups. The pill is bitter on his tongue but he swallows it down in delight. And it works, too, because the moment the colors start to glow and fuse together and all sounds become this echoing fishbowl of noises, you’re vacated from the corners of his fuzzy mind. For a time, he’s at peace all over again, lost in the blurry joy.

By the time he comes down, he’s already back in the dormitory.

Though it takes a moment for him to realize it, he’s taking inventory of all the surviving players. One by one, watching them fill the room and find their creaky beds or their little groups. Most were distraught, though some were particularly perturbed. It takes a couple teams before he understands that what he’s really looking for, naturally, is you. He’s always searching for you, even when he knew you weren’t searching for him back.

That’s the change, and it dawns on him like a rapture. He’d never had to care before- you were always this constant in his life, something that would always bounce right back if he tossed you aside. He didn’t give a damn if it upset you, he didn’t give a damn if it ate away at you like termites through wood. But now he does, and he gives so many damn’s they’re driving him crazy.

Any moment spent sober and lucid were moments entirely taken up by you.

Any moment now you’ll come strutting through those doors, head held high and gunning it to make sure Nam-gyu knew exactly how much you didn’t need him.

But then ten teams turn into twenty, and twenty five into thirty.

“How many teams were there?” Nam-gyu asks with a voice steadier than even he expected. Thanos doesn’t need to question anything, watching the doorway all the same.

“Fifty-six.” Se-mi hums from her spot, leaning back against the steps.

Thirty eventually turns to fifty.

Too much time has passed, and you’ve still yet to pop out through that doorway. He double checks those who’d already shown their faces, hoping to find you through the cracks of them, but you’re simply not there. There’s a shovel digging pits and moats into his stomach. Another wave of players trickles in and he scans them all over the same, only to feel that hollowness inside him grow once more. They saunter to their beds, to their little groups, taking up space and taking up air that should belong to you.

Where the hell were you?

“Only two teams left,” Thanos hums. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

Nam-gyu can’t force himself to answer this time around. So, instead, he presses his nails between his teeth and nervously shifts his weight from left to right. Though he shrugs, the anxiety within him was palpable, all lines and tension that he tried to bury with nonchalance. But it wasn’t working, and felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Mind racing, thoughts circling him like birds over fresh kill. The final team walks through the doorway, slow as zombies, shifty eyed and hurriedly rushing to their beds. His eyes sit on the door, waiting, waiting.

No one comes through.

His shoulders fall limp.

You didn’t make it.

“That’s a shame.” Se-mi sighs, the sound swimming in Nam-gyu’s ears.

Loss, real loss was a foreign feeling within his chest. He’d seen it described in the movies, in songs, this soul eating all consuming weight that blanketed over bodies and crushed, but nothing could have ever prepared for the blistering moment it wrenches itself within the confines of his heart, within the deep ache of his bones. It didn’t settle properly in his throat- his body trying to force the alien ripple of dread stitching itself right between his ribs. It hurts- his lungs can’t take in air. His breath wheezes past his lips in shallow pants, unable to tear his eyes away, like at any moment you’ll suddenly materialize right before him.

He presses his lip into a tight line and digs his nails into his palms, anything to release a fraction of the agony festering within his body.

Brain on fire, shaking hands and the image of you dead in a thousand different flashes, a sting to his waterlines that has him scrambling to shove his fingers against the thin skin.

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“Bad luck. Sorry, boy.”

All the skin on his body has flushed red and sticky. He ducks his head down towards his lap, desperate to hide within himself, even more desperate to hide this part of himself from the watchful eyes of his group. He should have just made you join them. Should have thrown you over his shoulder and wrapped an immovable grasp around your arm and held you hostage until everyone had a team and then you’d have no one else to turn to. No one else, nothing else except for him.

He can’t even hear his friend’s counterfeit empathy over the swell of his heartbeat in his ears. His body is too heavy to hold up, his arms dragging as lead, his head even heavier on his shoulders. Uncanny urges to tear at the skin of his face overcome him and he has to bury them into his hair in release, roughly running his digits through the black locks, trying to breathe and breathe and breathe. A lump the size of a boulder burrows into his throat.

Cracking his eyes open to peek down at his lip, squeezing them shut when his vision is wet and blurry. His lower lip trembles until it’s caught in his teeth, biting hard into the skin.

Don't fucking cry.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? If you’d have just let him take care of you this one fucking time, you would be alive right now. You should be alive right now- pissed and glaring fury in his direction but breathing and taking up space and existing-

“Ah, they made it. Here I thought they were all goners.”

Se-mi’s casual tone barely reaches him, but it’s got him frantically flicking his gaze back up to the archway, his hands falling from his face, trying to see through the blotches in his sight. A handful of players take soft steps into the room, all shaken up, all bewildered.

There you are. His racing heart stops entirely.

You’re sauntering into the dormitory like a wounded animal, all hands wringing out in front of you and lines drawn into your frown. For the first time, in Nam-gyu’s eyes, you look small. Frightened. Every step you take has a weight to it he’s never witnessed you bear. And even from across the room, even with rigid tears trapped in the corners of his eyes, he can see the grip of fear on the flat of your throat.

All those jumping thoughts settle into a tunnel vision, you at the epicenter of his quaking nerves simmering down into stillness. He forgets how his chest had twisted as if a knife had been planted between his collarbones, and he forgets how he had almost lost his lunch right there on the floor. All because you’re standing there in the middle of the room hugging yourself, white as a ghost, even paler when you lift your head up and see the way Nam-gyu is trapped in your line of sight.

Nam-gyu see’s it. No hate, no dejection.

Relief- this instant where your widened eyes soften, your frown lifts into a slack-jawed breath of solace. It rocks his world when it hits him and it lights a flame so hot under his skin it’s burning through his veins. All the air trapped in his lungs leaves him at once and he can pinpoint the exact moment all the tensions in his shoulders and back melt away in nothingness. The tears dry, his lower lip released from his gnashing teeth.

The man you’d joined earlier pats your shoulder and offers you a pathetic, wavering thumbs up. You can’t seem to return his dull enthusiasm. In fact, you look worse than Nam-gyu’s seen you thus far. Changed, all wires sticking exposed and sparking. There’s this lifelessness to your body when you climb up the stairs and have to heave yourself up into your bed, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your palms propped up over your knees.

When your eyes meet his, he expects some sort of sign of contempt, or perhaps maybe you’d refuse to meet his gaze entirely. Instead, for the first time since you’d arrived, you find him first.

You offer him a pitiful open palmed wave.

The pearly gates crack open and Nam-gyu feels it again- warmth. Even just a little bit, like lighting a match in a snowstorm, huddling around the flame. He half cocks a smile, and he waves back.

Lunch came quicker than he’d anticipated, and much to Nam-gyu’s dismay, you weren’t exactly thrilled to hop into line. In fact, ever since you’d let him jam his fingers back into your closing door, you’d hardly acknowledged anything other than your lap. Even more so upsetting, that player you hung around tapped your mattress to gather your attention, pointing to the line, sighing in defeat when you’d shook your head.

Jealousy seeps into his wounds all over again, quiet, but equally as simmering. Don’t act like you know her. Little devils tapping away at his psyche. She doesn't need you to check up on her.

But then again, he realizes, maybe you do.

His mouth dries when the sound of his thoughts footsteps come running up on him. His greed. His innate ability to leave you unchecked and grappling. That was among the sea of problems Nam-gyu had been struggling to grasp. Here he was, trying to drag you back into the tar pits of his hold and he hadn’t even tried the basics of kindness. The step one of it all. Always taking, taking, taking and demanding more at every swipe. Always expecting, never building.

So he jumps into line before he can second guess himself, and he takes his bento box with a grateful nod and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chasing the trail of you to your bed. From your high point, perched and unmoving, all he can do is climb the stairs and rest his hands over the corner of your mattress. Your far away gaze lifts from your lap and settles down to him.

The air is different. The landscape of you has changed.

“What is it.” Your tone is uncannily flat, but it’s void of its bite, its drive.

“Can I come up?”

It’s a simple request, but it leaves a shake at the end of his sentence. It’s only natural when he mentally prepares himself for you to slap no onto his forehead, but you scoot over, and he takes the spot so quickly you wouldn’t even have the chance to say no if you thought about it too much. He hoists himself up and over, fills the gap at your side, just as he should have done days ago. He sits the bento box at the crest of your lap.

“What’s this?” Blinking down at the food, you make no effort to pick it up.

“Fish and rice.” Nam-gyu shrugs. “Looks like an egg, too.”

“I can see that. I meant, what are you doing giving me this?”

“...You didn’t get anything.”

As your fingers gingerly touch the container, eyes scanning over the contents, Nam-gyu feels he can breathe easier. This is a win for him- you aren’t fighting him anymore. Still on the edge, always ready to run, but the look in your eyes isn’t pure hatred or outright hurt. A swell of pride overcomes him when you pluck the chopstick and murmur, thank you.

You’re pliable. Now, more than ever.

You eat in silence. He lets you eat in silence, even though peace isn’t exactly one of his virtues. Partly because he doesn’t know what to say to you, but mostly because he’s got this innate fear that he’s going to say something shitty and you’re going to hate him all over again for it. A million words are always shoving and pushing against his lips and he fumbles with navigating them. So, silence, it is.

But it doesn’t bother him. Silence meant that you were simply just there, existing, the one thing he had longed for over the years. He knew, deep in his heart, he’d fucked up when he began to miss the very presence of you. No sex, no drugs, no push or pull, just you. And now he gets to take whatever you’ll give in micro doses, greedy and starved for you. Fighting the urge to pull you into himself where you could never climb out. He refrains- he forces himself to just be there.

No longer could he be the creature he had been all those years ago. He had to be different- not all rough edges and clawing hands, ripping and taking. Or dark eyes watching your every move, or jagged words cutting your flesh with the highs and lows of his tone. Something better, this time. Something for you.

Tomorrow would be a new beast entirely. And, in less than a few hours, the lights would flicker off and bask the dormitory into hues of red and blues. You would lay alone in your all-too-large bed and he would sink into his mattress drugged out of his mind thinking countless thoughts of you, you, you. The distance would feel like miles- he needed you right there, right then, always. Anything other than what he had sitting beside you was a vast ocean.

The bento box appears in front of his lap, half eaten.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Nam-gyu’s brows knit.

“You should eat, too. What, scared of my germs now?” You murmur, and when he meets your eyeline, he sees something familiar in those hues. Something nurturing, sweet. Tender.

Nam-gyu picks up the chopsticks, and he eats. For the first time in years, his food tastes like food.

#squid game #namgyu x reader #nam-gyu x reader #angst #imagine #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu squid game #player 124

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callsigns-haze · 2 days ago

Text

A big bang (sneak peak)

Summary: Jake asks Bradley to help unpack and not everything goes as planned, especially for your plates.

Warning: Nothing much in fairness maybe language?

Authors note: I haven't wrote much for these two in ages and I miss them too much to not post for them again!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part of the little life universe

You adjusted Ellie against your hip as you stepped out of the bedroom, making your way down the hall. The faint sound of Rooster’s voice, followed by Jake’s unmistakable groan of frustration, drifted up the stairs, confirming that whatever had smashed earlier was definitely their fault.

Ellie gurgled against your shoulder, her tiny fingers grabbing a fistful of your sweater as you started down the stairs. You moved carefully, still a little unsteady from being sick, but determined to see what disaster awaited you.

As you reached the bottom, the scene in the living room came into view. Jake and Rooster stood frozen near the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of broken ceramic pieces and what looked like the remnants of a picture frame scattered across the floor.

Rooster was the first to spot you. “Oh, hey, corpse,” he greeted casually, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a crime scene. His eyes flickered to Ellie, and he grinned. “Hope this one doesn’t inherit either of your coordination skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, shifting Ellie higher on your hip. “Do I even want to know what happened?”

Jake let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face. “Rooster happened,” he grumbled. “Tried to ‘help’ move one of the boxes, tripped over thin air, and sent it flying into the wall.”

“It was not thin air,” Rooster defended, crossing his arms. “There was… something there.”

Jake shot him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, it’s called your own two feet.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh as you glanced down at the mess. “So, what exactly broke?”

Jake exhaled, looking more annoyed than anything. “Just a frame. And one of the plates from your mom.”

You winced. “One of the nice ones?”

Jake’s silence was answer enough.

You sighed, rubbing Ellie’s back as she started to squirm. “Well, that’s great. Really great.”

Rooster coughed. “In my defence, I—”

Jake cut him off with a sharp look. “There is no defence, Bradshaw.”

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “Just… clean it up before Ellie decides she wants to crawl through it.”

Jake gave you a tired salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rooster grinned, nudging Jake with his elbow. “See? She is the boss.”

Jake groaned, bending down to start picking up the mess, while you just shook your head, already knowing this was far from the last disaster these two would cause.

You adjusted Ellie on your hip, bouncing her lightly as you stared at the mess on the floor. With a sigh, you looked up at Jake, suspicion creeping into your voice.

“Wait… were they the pretty black plates my mom gave me?”

Jake froze mid-reach, clearly debating whether or not lying was an option here. Rooster, on the other hand, had no such filter.

“Yup,” he answered immediately, nodding. “Smashed right into the wall. Shattered on impact. It was actually kinda impressive—”

Jake smacked him on the arm, shooting him a glare. “Dude.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through your nose. Ellie let out a little gurgle, oblivious to the silent devastation unfolding in your chest.

“You broke my favourite plates?” you said, opening your eyes to glare at them both.

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was an accident, darlin’. I swear, I was nowhere near it. Bradley was the one who—”

Rooster threw his hands up. “Okay, technically, yes, but in my defence—”

“There is no defence!” Jake shot back, exasperated.

You groaned, shifting Ellie to your other arm. “Jake, those were special. My mom gave them to us when we moved in together.”

Jake softened, stepping toward you with his hands up in surrender. “I know, sugar, I know. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find a replacement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re gonna find handmade black ceramic plates that my mom had custom-made for us? Where, Jake?”

Rooster cleared his throat. “Etsy?”

You shot him a glare so sharp that he took a step back.

Jake sighed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I really am sorry, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to them if I could help it.”

You huffed, shifting Ellie again as she started to gnaw on your shoulder. “You owe me for this, Seresin.”

Jake smirked, leaning in closer. “I always owe you, sweetheart.”

Rooster made a gagging noise. “God, you two are disgustingly domestic.”

You rolled your eyes, waving them both off. “Just clean it up before I change my mind about forgiving you.”

Jake chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the mess. Rooster grumbled under his breath but joined in, and you just shook your head, still mourning your poor, beautiful plates.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman top gun #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader

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mattsobvimyfav · 11 hours ago

Text

unknown

Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

pt 4

The sun filtered softly through the blinds, casting warm streaks across the room. I blinked slowly, stirring from sleep, only to find Matt's arm draped securely over my waist, his chest pressed against my back. This is how it has been for the past week, the boys would handle their business or I'd go to work and they'd end up back at my apartment.

I smiled faintly and gently nudged his shoulder. "Matt," I whispered, brushing my fingers against his arm. "Matt, wake up."

He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open, hazy with sleep. "What?" he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly.

I laughed softly. "I have to go. I’ve got nannying today. Gotta watch the kids."

His brows furrowed slightly as he processed my words. "Already?" He pulled me closer for a brief moment, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "Can’t you skip it?"

I chuckled, running my fingers through his messy hair. "Tempting, but no. I actually like these kids, you know."

Matt sighed dramatically, finally releasing me. "Fine."

I sat up, stretching before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "You’ll survive. Besides, I’ll be back later. If you guys want to come back?"

He watched me for a moment, "Yeah. Maybe."

Matt may sleep in my bed every night, but he keeps his distance. There’s no hand-holding, no soft whispers in the dark. He isn’t lovey-dovey, and he hasn’t even admitted to liking me. Oddly enough, I don’t mind. I like how casual it is, the comfort of having someone there without the pressure of defining it.

I pulled on a pair of biker shorts, a cozy oversized hoodie, Nike socks, and my Hokas. Running my fingers through my hair to smooth it out, I glanced back at Matt, still sprawled lazily across my bed, his eyes half-lidded with sleep.

Leaning down, I pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. "Lock the door before you leave, okay?"

He gave a small nod, his eyes following me as I grabbed my bag and headed out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind me.

The drive to the family’s house was peaceful, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the Boston streets. The familiar route felt comforting, like slipping into an old routine. I pulled into the driveway, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the front door. Before I could knock, the door swung open, revealing Ella, with her wild curls bouncing as she launched herself at me.

“Y/N!” she squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around my legs.

“Hey, El!” I laughed, scooping her up into a hug. “Miss me?”

She nodded vigorously. “A lot.”

Inside, Owen, her brother, sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in a book about dinosaurs. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and his serious little face made me smile.

“Hey, buddy,” I greeted, ruffling his hair as I set my bag down.

He glanced up, offering a shy smile. “Hi, Y/N.”

Their parents gave me a quick rundown of the day’s plans before heading out. Once the door closed, Ella tugged on my hand. “Can we go to the park?”

“Of course,” I replied, packing snacks and water before we set off.

The park was bustling with families enjoying the warm air. Ella ran straight to the swings, demanding to be pushed higher and higher. Owen wandered off to examine rocks and sticks, his curiosity endless.

After an hour of chasing them around, we settled on a blanket under a large oak tree. We shared sandwiches, Ella chattering non-stop about her imaginary friends, while Owen quizzed me on dinosaur facts.

Back home, we spent the afternoon building a fort out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside our makeshift hideout, we read books and played with flashlights, their giggles echoing off the walls.

As evening approached, I prepared them dinner, it was simple—grilled cheese and tomato soup, with Ella proudly declaring she was my sous-chef.

When their parents returned, the kids clung to me, reluctant to say goodbye.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Not tomorrow, but soon,” I promised, giving them both a tight hug.

Driving home, I felt a warm sense of contentment. Being around these kids felt like a breath of fresh air from the adult life I created for myself.

When I got home, the quiet comfort of my apartment wrapped around me like a familiar blanket. I kicked off my Hokas, dropped my bag by the door, and flopped onto the couch with a sigh. The soft cushions welcomed me as I reached for my phone, scrolling through the notifications until I landed on the group chat with Matt and Chris.

Y/N: Home, finally.

It didn’t take long for Chris to respond.

Chris: Perfect timing. There’s a party tonight. We’re going. You in?

Almost instantly, Matt added:

Matt: Come with us.

I stared at the screen, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. A party wasn’t exactly on my agenda, but the idea of seeing them both, of slipping back into that chaotic, unpredictable energy they brought, felt tempting.

Y/N: What time?

Chris: We’ll pick you up at 9.

Y/N: I’m in.

I set my phone down and let myself relax for a little while, stretching out on the couch. The hum of the city outside my window was a soft reminder of the world still spinning. After a short rest, I stood up and made my way to my room to get ready.

I pulled out a cheetah print cropped top, pairing it with a sleek black mini skirt and my favorite leather boots. The outfit hugged my curves perfectly, giving me a boost of confidence. I decided to keep it simple with my hair, curling it into loose waves that effortlessly framed my face.

With one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my small black purse, sitting on the couch again and waited for Matt and Chris to arrive.

At exactly 9 PM, I heard a knock at the door. Opening it, I was met with Matt’s dark, intense eyes and Chris’s mischievous grin. Matt’s gaze slowly roamed over my outfit, his jaw tightening slightly before he muttered, “You look good.”

Chris clicks his tongue, "Yeah, you do"

I rolled my eyes, locking the door behind me as we made our way to Matt’s car. The car roared to life, music thumping softly as Matt drove through the city streets. The party was on the outskirts, in an old warehouse lit up with neon lights spilling from the windows.

We stepped inside, the heavy bass vibrating through the floor. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something faintly metallic lingering. People moved like waves, pulsing to the beat, laughing, shouting, and lost in their own worlds.

Matt and Chris immediately got to work, connecting with a few guys in dark corners. I found a spot on an old, beaten-up couch, watching the crowd while sipping on a drink someone had handed me. It wasn’t long before Matt made his way back, sitting beside me and pulling out a small blunt. He lit it, taking a slow drag before passing it to me.

I hesitated only for a second before taking it. I was somewhere new and didn't know anyone but Matt and Chris, I was unsure about being high and drunk here. I ultimately decided Matt and Chris would keep me safe if anything was to happen so I grabbed the blunt from Matt’s hand. The buzz hit quickly, mixing with the drink.

It had been about twenty minutes since Matt had left me alone on the couch, and my mind still felt like it was swimming in a fog. I had tried to focus on the people around me, watching them as they moved through the crowd, laughing, talking, losing themselves in the chaos of the party. But every face I looked at felt unfamiliar, out of place. Nothing made sense, not even the noise. The thumping bass, the flashing lights—it all felt too loud, too bright, like it was mocking me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

And then, suddenly, the noise of the party shifted. The music didn’t stop, but the voices grew louder, sharper, rising above the rest. I looked up from where I was sitting, instinctively turning toward the sound. That’s when I saw Matt.

He was standing at the edge of the crowd, his back rigid, his face hard as stone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused on something—or someone—a guy in the crowd. The guy was yelling at Matt, hands flailing wildly in the air. His voice was thick with aggression, but I couldn’t make out his words over the music.

Chris was beside Matt, his posture tense, his eyes scanning the crowd like a predator looking for a target. It was obvious this wasn’t a casual confrontation. The way Chris stood—motionless, like he was waiting for something—told me things were about to get real. Fast.

The yelling escalated, louder, and more intense. I couldn’t hear the words, but the aggression in the air was palpable. I felt a pit in my stomach as I watched Matt and the other guy exchange words. I wanted to look away, but something made me stay. It was like I couldn’t pull my gaze from the tension that was building between them.

And then, in a flash, Matt’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The punch was swift, precise, and brutal. It landed with a sickening thud that cut through the noise of the party. The moment it hit, everything exploded. It was like someone flipped a switch—people screamed, fists flew, bodies scrambled, and the fight spilled into the center of the room.

I could barely process what was happening. Matt and the other guy were locked in a brutal exchange, throwing punches with such intensity that the entire atmosphere of the party shifted. Blood mixed with sweat, and the harsh, flickering lights above cast eerie shadows across the room.

But Matt wasn’t just fighting. His movements were sharp, controlled, and fast—too fast for the guy to keep up. It was clear he wasn’t just defending himself—he was letting his rage drive every blow. He was holding his own, but there was something dark and violent in the way he moved, a fury that I hadn’t seen before.

As the fight spiraled further out of control, something shifted in the room. I saw Chris reach inside his jacket, and before I could even process what was happening, he pulled out a gun, the metal gleaming under the harsh lights. The sight of it sent a cold chill through me, freezing my blood. It was aimed at the people trying to jump into Matt’s fight, the mere presence of the weapon in the middle of this madness was enough to make everything feel dangerous.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The fight between Matt and the other guy continued, but now people were backing off, the sight of the guns keeping anyone from getting any closer. The crowd was tense, unsure of whether things were going to escalate further, but Chris didn’t make a move to use the weapons. They just held their ground, making sure everyone knew they weren’t to be messed with.

The fight was broken up quickly after that, people rushing in to separate them. The other guy was dragged away, kicking and yelling, still trying to get another shot at Matt, but the fight had already drained the energy from the room. The party slowly began to settle, but Matt’s fury hadn’t.

Without a word, he turned and stormed toward me. I barely had time to react before he grabbed me by the waist, his grip strong and unyielding, and hoisted me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. My stomach lurched in surprise, and I instinctively grabbed at his back, but he didn’t seem to notice. His body was rigid, his anger still boiling just beneath the surface.

"We’re leaving," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like he was daring anyone to stop him.

Chris was right behind him, his face set in stone. He hadn’t said a word, but his presence was enough to make sure no one got in their way. They moved through the crowd with the kind of confidence that came from knowing they controlled the situation—guns tucked away, but the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Outside, the cool air hit me like a slap. Matt gently set me down but kept a firm grip on my hand. His knuckles were bloodied, his breathing ragged, but his eyes… his eyes were dark, Not in the way I had ever seen them before.

We drove in tense silence, the car filled with the residual heat of anger and adrenaline. No one spoke.

The drive away from the party was cloaked in silence, the tension thick and unspoken. Matt's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles still bruised and raw from the fight. Chris sat in the passenger seat, his jaw clenched, eyes flickering between the road ahead and Matt's rigid posture.

I sat in the back, the cool leather of the seat against my thighs grounding me. The city lights faded as we drove further, replaced by quiet streets lined with towering trees and sprawling houses. I leaned forward slightly, glancing out the window.

"Uh, where are we?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence.

Matt didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the road. Chris turned slightly, his smirk returning, though it lacked its usual ease. "Our house," he replied casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked, my mind trying to process his words. "I thought you guys lived at the trap."

Chris chuckled softly. "The trap is where we work. This is where we live."

Matt pulled into the long driveway of a massive, modern house tucked behind tall, sleek gates. The exterior was all sharp lines and dark glass, illuminated by soft, ambient lighting that gave the place an almost surreal glow.

Stepping out of the car, I followed them up the stone path, my curiosity outweighing my confusion. The front door swung open effortlessly under Matt's hand, revealing an interior that made my jaw drop.

The house was nothing like I expected. High ceilings stretched above us, adorned with minimalist chandeliers that cast warm pools of light onto polished hardwood floors. The living room was expansive, with plush, oversized furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city skyline like a painting.

I toed off my boots, feeling out of place. "This is... not what I expected."

Chris threw his phone on the marble kitchen counter, grinning. "What were you expecting? Milk crates and mattresses on the floor?"

I shrugged, still taking it all in. "Honestly? Yeah."

Matt finally spoke, his voice low and rough. "Appearances are deceiving."

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone with Chris. Chris flopped onto the enormous sectional, patting the seat next to him. "Get comfortable, sweetheart. You're staying for a while."

I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions, my mind racing with questions but my lips staying shut. The air felt thick, almost heavy with something I couldn’t quite place, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what it was.

“Upstairs,” Matt’s voice called from above, rough around the edges. I hesitated for just a second before making my way up, my heart pounding a little faster. I’d never been here before, and something about being alone with Matt—his house, his world—felt different.

When I entered his room, I stopped in my tracks for a moment, taking in the sight. The bed was massive—almost ridiculously so. His boxers and a t-shirt were laid out neatly on the sheets. I swallowed hard, nerves creeping in, but I forced myself to keep moving forward.

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Change,” he said, his voice flat, as if he was saying something completely ordinary.

I nodded, retreating into the bathroom attached to his room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I changed quickly, not wanting to waste any time, but something about the whole situation felt off.

Once I was dressed, I climbed into the bed beside him, pulling the covers over my body. He was already there, sprawled out and clearly still tense, his mind a million miles away. He didn’t even say anything as he flicked on the TV, the soft glow illuminating the room and casting shadows across his face.

I shifted closer, resting my head on his shoulder, the weight of the night pressing down on me. “How do you have this house?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I had to ask.

Matt didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the TV, his jaw tightening as if the question bothered him more than I expected. Finally, he shifted, just enough to look down at me, “You’ve seen what we do,” he said, his voice low, edged with something I couldn’t quite read.

I felt my stomach knot. He wasn’t wrong. I had seen it—the deals, the late-night phone calls, the way Matt and Chris operated in a world I had no part in. The life they’d built wasn’t exactly something you could just turn off.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. I could feel the weight of it all hanging between us, pressing down on my chest. But instead of pulling away, I just snuggled closer, needing the comfort. His arm wrapped around me, his grip tight and protective, but I could feel the tension in his body, the anger from earlier still lingering.

“I don’t need this,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing against my skin, the touch surprisingly soft.

I stayed silent, not sure what to say. The truth was, I didn’t need this either. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

I stayed there, pressed up against Matt’s side, his arm still wrapped around me, my head resting on his shoulder. The low hum of the TV filled the silence, but my thoughts were elsewhere, swirling in a mix of confusion and unease. The strange quiet of the house, the tension in his body, the weight of his words—it all felt like too much. I was lost in it, trying to make sense of everything.

And then my phone buzzed, breaking the stillness.

I pulled it from the pocket of my jeans and saw Jordan’s name lighting up the screen. My heart sank. I didn’t feel like dealing with her right now, especially not after everything that had gone down tonight, but I unlocked my phone and opened the message anyway.

Jordan: Did you hear what happened with Matt tonight?

I stared at the screen, feeling a wave of panic rise in my chest. I quickly typed a response, my fingers shaking slightly as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

Me: Stop trying to parent me. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions, okay?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. But the pit in my stomach only deepened as I stared at the message, like I was waiting for something to happen—waiting for her to text me back.

And then it happened. Matt's arm shifted, and before I even realized what was going on, he grabbed my phone from my hands, his movements sharp and quick. My stomach dropped as he looked down at the screen.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat as I watched him scroll through the messages. His eyes flicked over the screen, his jaw tightening as he read Jordan’s message.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I silently cursed myself for not locking the phone, he glared at the screen, his expression darkening with each passing second. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, his body stiffening as he scrolled through the messages. He didn't say anything at first, but I could feel the tension growing between us.

He slammed my phone down onto the bed with a force that made me flinch, his eyes meeting mine, full of frustration. "She’s been texting you about me... about us?" he asked, his voice low, dangerously calm.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing heartbeat. I didn't know what to say. I could feel my breath quicken as I scrambled to explain myself, but he cut me off before I could get the words out.

“Jordan,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. "She’s been on your case for weeks now, huh? With that bullshit, telling you to stay away from me and Chris?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "She doesn’t know shit about what goes on here. She acts like she does because we let her spark up with us once in a while." His voice dropped lower, almost too quiet. “She has no idea what it’s like... what it really takes to keep a place like this.”

I felt the heat rise to my face, a mix of embarrassment and guilt. Matt’s anger was raw, and I could see it in his eyes. But at the same time, I also felt a strange mix of fear and protectiveness over him.

“I told her I could make my own decisions,” I said, my voice shaky, trying to hold onto some sense of control.

Matt scoffed, leaning back on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the tv. "Yeah, well, she needs to mind her business." His tone was sharp, and the anger still simmered just below the surface. "She doesn't get it. She doesn't know the shit she thinks she does about me and Chris."

My heart pounded in my chest, guilt eating away at me. She was just trying to look out for me, even if it didn’t feel that way.

I reached for my phone, but Matt grabbed it first, holding it just out of my reach. “You’re not talking to her anymore,” he said, his tone final. “She’s not gonna mess this up for us.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, waiting for a reaction.

I couldn’t tell if it was the intensity of his gaze or what, but I didn’t fight him. Instead, I just lay there next to him, unable to shake the feeling that I was trapped between two worlds—between Matt, the life he led, and everything Jordan had been warning me about.

Matt’s body was rigid beside me, his presence solid and warm. The tension in his muscles hadn’t quite relaxed, his jaw still clenched, and I could feel the storm of emotions swirling in the air around us.

The lights in his room were dim, casting long shadows across the walls, and I was still trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened. The fight at the party. The blood.

While we were laying there the door opened with a creak, and Chris’s voice broke through the stillness.

"Matt," Chris called out, his tone sharp. "We’ve got a visitor."

Matt tensed beside me, his muscles tightening as he pushed himself up from the bed. "Stay here," he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was something dangerous lurking in it. "Don’t leave the room."

I barely had a chance to respond before he was already moving, slipping on a shirt and heading toward the door. My stomach twisted. I wanted to know what was going on, what kind of "visitor" they were dealing with, but Matt’s warning echoed in my mind. I stayed in bed, though the unease in my chest wouldn’t settle.

The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. It had been ten minutes since Matt and Chris left the room, and I couldn’t sit still any longer. My curiosity gnawed at me, a constant itch I couldn’t ignore.

I slipped out of bed quietly, moving toward the door. I could hear the faint sounds of voices downstairs, muffled, but nothing that gave me any clear idea of what was happening. What they were doing.

I cracked the door open just enough to slip out, trying not to make a sound. My bare feet padded across the cold wood floor as I crept toward the top of the stairs. The house felt eerily quiet, the silence hanging heavily in the air. I could hear muffled voices now, sharp words mixed with a few desperate pleas. My heart skipped a beat.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I paused. What I saw froze me in my tracks.

At the bottom of the stairs was the guy from the party—the one Matt had fought earlier. The guy was on his knees, his head bowed, his hands trembling in front of him. He looked like he was begging, but I couldn’t hear his words from where I stood. I could see the fear in his eyes, though, the panic as he tried to make himself small under the weight of Matt and Chris’s presence.

Matt and Chris were standing over him, both of them tense, and I could see the guns in their hands. Matt had his at his side, the barrel gleaming in the dim light, while Chris held his steady, aimed at the kneeling man.

My breath caught in my throat. I felt like I was intruding on something I wasn’t meant to see, like I was looking into a world I couldn’t understand.

Matt’s voice rang out, low and filled with an edge of danger. "You know the deal," he said, his tone cold, commanding. "You pulled that stupid fucking shit tonight. ‘You dont get paid enough’ Fuck that."

The guy on his knees didn’t speak at first, but I could see him nodding desperately, tears running down his face as he raised his hands in a pleading gesture. His whole body trembled, and I could feel the fear emanating off him in waves.

"I-I didn’t mean to—" he started, his voice shaky, but Matt cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up," Matt snapped, his voice hard.

I took a step back, my heart pounding, my body frozen in place. My eyes were still locked on the scene below, the tension between the three men thickening with every passing second. It was like a standoff, a moment where everything teetered on the edge of something dangerous.

And then, my foot shifted slightly, the floor creaking under my weight. The sound was soft, but it was enough.

Matt’s head snapped up, his sharp eyes finding me at the top of the stairs. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and I felt his gaze lock onto me, cold and piercing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Matt’s voice rang out, low but filled with an unmistakable edge of anger. His words sliced through the air, and I felt the sudden weight of them. His gaze shifted quickly between me and the guy still kneeling on the floor.

I didn’t know how to respond. My breath caught in my throat as my mind scrambled to make sense of everything happening in front of me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I wanted to apologize for intruding, for seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see, but I couldn’t make myself move. I was frozen, caught between the need to explain myself and the sheer fear of what this moment meant.

Matt’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. He didn’t speak for a long moment, but I could see the fury simmering just below the surface.

"You should’ve stayed in the room," he muttered, his voice dangerously calm.

I swallowed hard, my body tense as I realized how much I didn’t understand. How much I had already gotten myself involved in.

The man on the floor looked up at me, making eye contact, his body trembling in fear, Chris caught on to the man looking at me and hit him in the face, hard, causing me to gasp at the sound.

Matt took a step forward, his posture almost predatory, "Get back to the room," he ordered, his voice low. But there was something in his tone that made my chest tighten—something that made me realize I wasn’t just an innocent bystander anymore. I was part of this.

I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t stay there, not at this moment. My legs felt like they were going to give out, but I managed to turn around and retreat back into the shadows, disappearing into the hallway as quietly as I could.

The sound of Matt’s voice echoed in the distance, but I didn’t hear the words. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart and the realization that the life I had stepped into was far darker and more dangerous than I ever could have imagined.

The door slammed open, and Matt was standing there, his presence filling the room like a storm. His chest was heaving, his jaw tight, eyes burning with anger. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, like it was pressing down, suffocating me.

"What is wrong with you?" he snapped, his voice harsh and raw.

I instinctively shrunk back, my heart pounding in my chest. He stepped forward, his frustration practically radiating off him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I told you to stay in the room. I literally asked you one fucking thing, but you went ahead and—" He cut himself off, pacing a few steps before turning back to face me, the anger in his eyes almost too much to handle.

"Do you have any idea what you just saw?" he continued, his tone lowering but still laced with irritation. "This isn’t some fucking joke. This is real. People get hurt, Y/N. People die."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words felt trapped in my throat. What could I say? I didn’t even know how to explain what had been going through my head when I snuck out of the room, what had driven me to see what was happening downstairs.

Matt shook his head, his gaze never leaving me. "This is dangerous, and if you want to keep seeing me and Chris, you better start understanding what that means."

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. His voice was calmer now, but there was no mistaking the edge of finality in it. "I’m not going to baby you, Y/N. You either get it together or you walk away. Because you’re playing with fire and expecting not to get burned. And I’m not just gonna sit back and watch you do that and wait till you do.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words tangled in my throat, choked by the weight of his anger. My chest felt tight, my heart racing, and without thinking, I slid off the bed and closed the space between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I reached for him. My hands found his chest first, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin, the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat. “Matt, I’m so sorry.”

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into the warmth of his neck, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp edge of sweat and adrenaline. “Please, I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to know you were okay,” I murmured against his skin, my lips brushing softly over the curve of his neck as I spoke.

His body remained rigid, his hands clenched at his sides, but I held on tighter, desperate to break through the wall his anger had built. I placed soft, frantic kisses along the line of his jaw, his neck, my voice shaking between each one. “Please, Matt. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I just—I needed to see you.”

His breath hitched, a sharp exhale that made me cling to him even more. My fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, knuckles white, as if letting go would make the distance between us even worse.

“I’ll listen next time. I swear. Just—don’t be mad at me,” I begged softly, my words muffled against his skin, my lips finding the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat fast and hard.

For a moment, he didn’t move. The tension between us thick enough to drown in. Then, slowly, his hands came up, not gentle but rough, gripping my arms, his fingers digging in just enough to remind me of who he was.

But he didn’t push me away.

Matt’s grip loosened slightly, his fingers sliding from my arms to my waist, pulling me in closer. His head dropped to look in my eyes, his breath warm and uneven as it fanned across my skin. His eyes were still closed, like he was trying to hold something in—something fragile beneath all that anger.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration, but not just at me. At himself. At everything. He let out a shaky sigh, his hands gripping my hips tighter like he was afraid I’d slip away. “I want you here,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost broken. “But you’ve got to listen to me, Y/N. You don’t get it, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

My chest ached at the rawness in his words, the vulnerability bleeding through the cracks in his tough exterior. I cupped his face gently, His gaze was softer now, the sharp edges dulled by something deeper.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just, I don't know.”

He let out another breath, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us. My face buried in his chest.

“I don’t want to worry about whether or not you’re going to listen,” he murmured, his voice muffled but clear enough to make my heart clench.

I held him tighter, pressing soft kisses to his jaw, trying to ease the tension in his body. “I’ll listen,” I promised softly, my fingers threading through his hair. “I’ll do better.”

Matt didn’t respond right away. His grip on me tightened, like he was still trying to process everything. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes still dark but softer, the storm behind them finally settling.

Without a word, he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His skin was warm, scattered with faint bruises from the fight earlier, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His gaze never left mine as he reached for me again, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies were flush.

“c’mere,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but not with anger this time.

He guided me back toward the bed, pulling me down with him. The sheets were cool against my skin, but his warmth made up for it as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I nestled against him, my face tucked into the curve of his neck, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of him.

His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along my back, grounding me, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his words earlier. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a rhythm that slowly lulled me into calm.

“You matter more than I want you to.” he whispered into the dark,

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

Sleep came slowly, but it came—with his arms around me, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274 @sturnslutz @secret-sturniolo @vickytaa @matteatmeout @pair-of-pantaloons @ananskanansbsnwbensb @theboredknightcat-blog @sturniolostuff @dariellemccaul @mamamadssss

#christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic

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asheepinfrance · 3 days ago

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i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be.

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break.

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks.

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

#challengers fic #challengers #art donaldson #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #mostly patrick zweig #lily donaldson #tashi x art x patrick #no reader if that matters to you!#futile devices

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st4rgiirll · 23 hours ago

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rose petals

evan buckley x firefighter!gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

today, you had the day off, and evan was determined to make it special.

“alright, i’ll see you in a bit,” you called over your shoulder, grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

the plan was simple: you’d run to the store for some last-minute supplies, and evan would handle the rest. he’d been acting a little mysterious lately, which was either a sign of something amazing or a new firehouse prank.

you got back and pushed the door open, the sight that greeted you made your heart race. the living room was transformed.

candles flickered softly, casting warm shadows on the walls. rose petals were scattered around, and in the center was a blanket laid out with an array of goodies—chocolate-covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and a couple of glasses.

“surprise!” evan’s voice rang out, full of excitement.

“wow, you really went all out!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide as you took in the scene.

he was leaning against the kitchen counter, a proud grin plastered on his face. “i figured it was about time we had a proper valentine’s day. you know, without the fire alarms and chaos.”

you laughed, stepping further inside. “this is incredible! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“just wait,” he said, winking. “there’s more.”

“more? what else could you possibly do?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

“just sit down and relax,” he instructed, motioning to the blanket.

“i’ve got the next part covered.” you plopped down, sinking into the softness of the blanket.

“okay, im intrigued. what’s next?” evan walked over and poured us both glasses of champagne, the bubbly fizzing to the top.

“to us,” he said, raising his glass.

“to us,” you echoed, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip.

the sweet taste danced on your tongue, making you smile. as you both settled into a comfortable conversation, you couldn’t help but admire him.

his hair fell slightly over his forehead, and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief reminded me of a kid who’d just gotten away with something.

“so, what’s the big secret you’re hiding?” you asked, leaning closer, curiosity getting the best of you.

“oh, you’ll see,” he replied, taking a dramatic pause. “but first, i want to give you something.”

he stood and disappeared into the hallway, leaving you in eager suspense. you could hear him rummaging through a drawer, and my mind raced with possibilities. was it a gift? a love letter?

when he returned, he held a small, intricately wrapped box.

“happy valentine’s day!” he said, his excitement palpable. you took the box and turned it over in your hands.

“you didn’t have to get me anything, but thank you!” you said, genuinely touched.

“trust me, this one’s special. open it!” he urged, bouncing on his heels.

with a grin, you tore off the wrapping to reveal a delicate silver necklace, a small heart pendant glinting in the light.

“evan, it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling. “you really didn’t have to.”

“iwanted to,” he said softly, his gaze sincere. “you mean the world to me.”

you slipped the necklace around your neck, feeling the cool metal settle against your skin. “i love it. thank you.”

he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear.

“you deserve all the love in the world.”

you felt a flutter in your stomach, the kind that had become all too familiar around evan. “so, what’s next on our romantic agenda?”

“well… i was thinking we do a bit of a… firefighter workout of our own..” evan smirked, ever the nympho he was.

“oh you were?” you grin.

“yeah… so get your ass up those damn stairs and strip, my fire jacket’s in the closet. get that on before i get up those stairs after you.”

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #911 show #911 fanfic #fanfiction #evan buck buckley #evan buckley fluff #911 on abc

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nessieart · 1 day ago

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The Way Back. X

wc: 8.2k

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

Bucky x reader || Steve x reader (eventually??)

AN: It's a long one! i didn't want to break this one up. and im sorry in advance.

Masterlist

Previously:

Bucky hesitates for another minute until he slowly climbs into the bed. You give him a reassuring look when he pulls the covers back up.

"I'll be awake for a while, so you can get some sleep, OK?" The only light on in the room is your dim side table lamp. Bucky's face is illuminated in a soft glow as he looks at you. "What?" You chuckle nervously.

His eyes bounce between yours before he scoots closer, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. He smiles at you and lies down, one arm over your legs as he brings his pillow to your lap. You run your fingers through his short, damp hair, and before you could tell him goodnight, he was limp with sleep, and light snores could be heard from his lips.

The next morning, you're awake before Bucky, which is surprising. You usually love sleeping in or longer than Peggy would like you to.

As if he can sense your eyes on him, Bucky peaks an eye open. He hums, wrapping his arms tighter around you. His voice is rough with sleep. He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling deeply.

"James, I have to be in soon," you speak against his skin, but you make no move to leave his arms or the bed.

"Just a few more minutes," he sighs.

You're dressed in record time, just as Peggy knocks on your door.

"Darling," she calls through the door, "are you both decent?"

"Yeah, Peg! Be out in just a minute!" You squeal as Bucky wraps his arms around you and drags you back onto the bed on his lap. "Bucky!" You laugh.

He hums again, "Thank you. For last night. I don't think I've ever slept so good." You twist in his arms, pecking him on the lips and drape your arms over his shoulders.

"Anytime, Sarge. You're safe with me. Remember that." Your fingers drag along the hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky lets out a satisfied sigh. He kisses you then, hands gripping a little tighter to keep you on his lap. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and your fingers scrap against the back of his neck. He moans softly, and you swallow it, licking into his mouth.

There's another knock at the door, impatient and fast, "Charlotte!"

You pull away from Bucky. He whines when he can't follow your lips. You're both panting, and you smile at him. As you extract yourself from his arms, you peck him on the cheek, "See you later, Sarge."

You and Peggy arrive early - despite your…slow start to the morning. You brought a thermos of coffee for you and Howard. You could almost hear his joyous thanks in your head. Peggy walks beside you as you try to find Steve.

When you round a corner, you see Spinner at a desk, glasses low on his nose as he takes notes from an open book.

"Rupert," you greet. He looks up, wide-eyed at you and Peggy. He pushes his glasses up his nose and swallows hard.

"M-morning, Ms. Charlotte, Agent Carter."

"We're looking for Captain Rogers, Agent Spinner. Have you seen him?" Peggy asks. He nods frantically, finger pointing through the makeshift library.

"He's so skittish, isn't he?" Peggy whispers as the two of you continue on. You laugh. Oh, if she only knew.

After the next set of bookshelves, you see Steve. But he's not alone. And Peggy goes rigid beside you. You could feel her silent anger but also her pain. You're not sure why it bothers you so much, seeing Steve kiss some random girl. It's not like you're with him or anything.

Maybe because you've known him for so long, he never seemed interested in anyone. Not the girls from SHIELD or the barista down the street. Or the ones Natasha tried to set him up with. There's a twinge of jealousy that runs through your veins seeing him like this. Future him being in love with you doesn't make much sense now, with his tongue down some random SSR woman's throat makes you want to throw up.

It hurts.

"I think we found him," you say flatly, just loud enough for the couple to hear you.

Steve all but shoves the woman away. She's a little dazed, but she notices you and Peggy, "I'm sure there's something else for you to be doing, Agent?" Maybe it comes out more harshly than you meant, but no one says anything.

The blonde ducks her head, and she scurries away.

You're starring daggers at Steve. He gulps, face bright red as she looks at Peggy.

"Captain. We're ready for you…if you're not otherwise occupied." Peggy turns abruptly and stalks away. her high heels click loudly as she leaves.

"Agent Carter, wait!" Steve goes to move after her, but you step in his way. "Charlie," he warns deep and low.

"Steven Grant Rogers, you ass," you grit out, you stop his advance with a hand to his chest. He tries to move you. He should be able to throw you across the room easily, but you don't budge. Your face burns the longer he looks down at you.

He places his hand over yours on his chest. Something only Bucky has ever done, his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

"Charlie, please," he pleads softly. You look away from him and pull your hand away. Steve catches up with Peggy quickly, and you follow behind, dragging your feet.

You can hear them as you follow, hand shoved into a pocket, your other squeezing the thermos a little too tight. Seeing Steve kiss someone else shouldn't make you feel the way you do. There's a tightness in your chest, a twinge of anger under the surface. There's a scowl on your face as you all near the end of the hall, big metal doors stand between you and the lab.

"You wanted to be a soldier. Now you are one. Just like all the rest."

Steve's face becomes flustered. He takes Peggy's hand, but she yanks it away. "Well, what about you and Stark? How do I know that you two haven't been…fondueing the whole time? You're staying in his penthouse, ain't ya?" You can tell he regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, but he kept going.

"Steven!"

"You still don't understand a bloody thing about women," Peggy turns on her hell and storms back down the corridor.

Steve's shoulders slump, the door opens, and you push past Steve. Howard wraps his arm around your shoulders, "Fondue's just cheese and bread, my friend," Howard steers you further into the lab. "And it sounds like she thinks you've got more going for you than that." Howard releases your shoulders as you pass a motorcycle. You kneel down and pull your toolbox closer.

You work on auto pilot as you listen to Howard and Steve. Howard explains some of the things he's been busy working on.

Gear, weapons, clothes. You peak over the motorcycle to see what they're talking about. The table is filled with shield prototypes. Steve's old shield sits battered and riddled with bullet holes. He runs his hand over it.

Howard continues on, or he tries to explain the intricacies of the shields he's been working on.

"What about this one?" Steve bends to grab something, ignoring Howard completely.

"Uh, well. that's just a pro-"

"What's it made out of?"

"Vibranium," you speak up. "It's stronger than steel and a third of the weight." Steve whirls the shield around. Your chest feels tight again. You haven't seen him hold that in a very long time.

Your tools clang back in the toolbox, the noise echoing in the room. Some people stop and stare at you.

"I'll be back," you mutter as you pass Howard.

"Charlie?"

"It's fine, Howie," you dodge him and head out of the bunker. You just need some air. Everything was closing in, too hot, too fast. Before you could reach the stairs, you stop when someone calls out to you.

"Stark!" Phillips says. You can hear his smirk. "My office." He leads little room for opposition, and you heave a heavy sigh. Hand gripping the railing a little too tight. You groan and follow him.

He closes the door behind you, Spinner is already seated when you enter. He gives you a small wave. Phillips sits at his desk. The two of them wait for you to sit, but you hover by the door.

Frustration and anxiety thrum in your veins, not being able to take the walk you needed to clear your head. Your chest heats up as you feel your powers surge. Your hands alight in a blue flame, and you let out an aggravated scream, throwing your arm back and punching the concrete wall next to you.

Your chest heaves, powers subsiding. The room is heavy with baited breath, silent and thick with tension. The concrete cracks outward from the impact of your fist. Small chunks crumble to the floor as you retract your hand back. There's a fist sized indent in the wall.

You inhale a deep, calming breath, shoulders relaxing. You crack the knuckles on your hand, roll your wrist around, and take a seat next to Spinner. The two men don't move, their eyes wide and unsure.

You cross your leg over the other, "You wanted to see me, sir?" You ask casually, as if nothing happened.

Phillips clears his throat, straightening a little more in his chair. He doesn't make eye contact with you as he shuffles through papers on his desk. Maybe just to keep his hands busy.

You glance at Spinner. He sits ridged in his chair, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Did neither men know you could do that? It brings a smug smile to your face at the thought. Maybe you had more say in this whole mess than you thought.

"I burned them," Rupert mutters out quietly. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, "The negatives as well." He can't meet your eye either. You give him a nod of understanding when he quickly glances up in your direction.

Phillips grunts, opening a file and sliding it towards you. You grab it and bring it closer.

There's instructions on the things you'll need for your mission, weapons, and gear - just in case. The information they hope to extract from the bases they are sending you to.

"Earliest convenience," Phillips grunts out. You smirk at him. He heaves a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes. "alright, dismissed," he waves his hand in the air as you rise from your chair. "And no more punching walls, Agent. Especially not in my office," you laugh as you go to leave.

"No promises, Colonel," you call over your shoulder.

Over the course of the next few months, the war continues. Captain America and his Howling Commandos have taken out Hydra base after base.

In the background, you've been going ahead of them and infiltrating the bases for secret files. Any secret that Schmidt thinks he can hide, you've been uncovering and bringing back to the SSR.

Sometimes, after finishing your mission, you'd wait in the shadows just to make sure Steve and Bucky would be alright. And every time you thought to interfere, they would pull through. Bucky was an incredible sniper. You had no doubts they would all be ok.

But still, you always hung back and watched. Just in case.

Christmas and New Years came and went. Celebrating with your found family and friends. You bought Howard a new camera. He couldn't seem to put it down - much to everyone's discomfort.

You and Bucky had become closer, much to Howard's discomfort. He always seemed to grumble about how the two of you were always attached at the hop. Which, to be fair, you were.

A few of the Howlies were loading up a truck, getting ready to move out to the next base location. You had gathered more intel about hidden bunkers and testing facilities on your last mission.

You stand off to the side, eyeing the motorcycle you've spent the last month fine-tuning. "Don't go blowing up my hard work, got it, Cap?" You cross your arms as he peers up at you. An amused smile on his lips. "I mean it!" You all but whine.

Steve laughs and stands tall, hands going to his belt. His default Captain America pose, you tell yourself. His shield is strapped to his back, scorch and bullet marks chip the paint away, but the Vibranium underneath is unharmed.

"Alright, alright," he raises his hands, still chuckling when you give him a look. There's a flash and click of a camera to your right, and you whirl around to Howard.

"Howie! What'd I say about pictures!" You try and scramble after him, but an arm catches you around the waist. The familiar gruff of Bucky's laugh reaches your ears. "James, you let me go before I throttle you!" That just makes him laugh more.

Steve leans back on his bike, arms crossing over his chest. There's a fond smile on his face as you and Bucky bicker back and forth, Howard laughs and still takes pictures.

Peggy sidles up next to Steve, the same fond smile on her face. "They're very good together, don't you think?" She asks softly.

Steve hums, "I'm just glad Charlie brought Bucky back to himself. After what happened…" he trails off, eyes skating down to Peggy, who nods, and then back up to you in Bucky's arms. There's bright smiles tugged on both your faces. Eyes crinkling at the corners. He can see how much Bucky cares for you in that look.

There's a pang that runs through him, but he's so used to it now that he just buries it further down. Deep within himself so no one else can see it.

Peggy stands just close enough to him that her elbow almost touches him. He can feel the heat of her body, smell her sweet perfume. The lingering scent of hotel soap on her skin. If he really concentrates, he can hear her heartbeat. The inhale and exhale of her breathing.

But then he can also hear Bucky, his soft murmuring into your skin, the breathy giggle you let out when he kisses right below your ear.

Steve clears his throat, shifting his stance as he looks away from both of you.

There's another click of the camera, a moment caught in time; forever.

Bucky and you smiling at each other, your hand on his chest, his hand over yours. It looks like you're trying to push him away, but his other arm is wrapped around your waist. Steve and Peggy behind you. She's looking at Steve with a soft expression, and Steve's looking at you.

The year goes by fast, and the constant moving of Captain America and the Howling Commandos around Europe leaves you stuck in London with Howard, Peggy, and the rest of the SSR. You get restless while you wait for word from the front, waiting on bated breath for letters from Bucky.

It wouldn't be a problem if they knew about your powers. You could just portal to them, and the anxiety would be over.

The only times you got glimpses of Steve or Bucky is when you wait, hidden in the shadows after one of your reckon missions.

"Will you relax, kid?" Howard says next to you. You grumble under your breath. "They'll be fine. We made all their gear and equipment, right?" He nudges your shoulder with his, pulling a smile from you.

"I know. It's been almost four months since they've been back. I miss them," you whine a little. Howard shifts, resting his hip on the table. He leans on one hand to brace himself up.

"Y'know, I hired that film crew for more than historical documentation," his eyebrows raise when you give him a look. Your lips twitch up, and Howard's smile matches yours. "I know you love him, Y/N," he says quietly. "You should tell him when he comes back."

Howard takes your hand in his and squeezing, "It's complicated, Howie. It's not -"

"-Not that simple," he continues, "yeah, I've heard that before."

You laugh, "Well, at least it's a slow day," you sigh.

"Stark!" Phillips yells from down the hall.

Howard and you groan, "You just had to say it, didn't'cha?"

2018, Somewhere in Space

Tony finishes his recording for Pepper. Just in case one day, the ship makes it back to Earth. Someone in the vast, now half empty universe is bound to pick up the distress call. Somehow. He sighs heavily. It hurts to breathe too deep, think too loud. Think about the people he's lost on Titan. Tony's trying desperately not to think about the people he cares about on Earth, hoping they're all ok.

"Come on, old man, you need to rest," Nebula grunts. She tries to haul Tony up, but he just waves her off with a lift of his fingers. That's all he can muster now.

Tony's too tired - hunger left him a few days ago - too thirsty to function. Maybe he can just rest his eyes for a minute. It takes too much energy to keep them open.

Just for a minute.

He's really fine. Don't worry about it.

Totally… a-ok.

It's fine.

There's a bright, warm light that reaches Tony's closed lids. It's familiar. Almost like the sun. His eyes blink open, squinting at the brightness. It's blinding and beautiful.

Through the spaces between his fingers, he sees it, a gasp leaves his dried and cracked lips.

"…Y/N?…"

Tony is surprised to see Steve, something like relief flooding through his veins, he sags as Steve holds him up. His breathing is shallow but heavy. Being back on Earth and actually breathing oxygen and not sparingly through filters makes his head dizzy.

Steve held out hope to see you come down the gangway of the spaceship behind Tony and Rocket's blue friend. He keeps looking over his shoulder as he helps keep Tony upright.

But, if you were in there, you would have portalled everyone back to Earth. Unless you were seriously injured. Or…

No, he won't think like that. Not until he hears otherwise.

"Hang on," Tony heaves out, "Wait. I-I lost the kid. I-"

"Tony, we lost," Steve's brows furrow. Lost everything, the fight, their friends. Bucky.

Tony can't hold back the tears now. His breathing is hoarse as he tries to keep in a sob. "She's gone -" he chokes out, "She- Y/N sacrificed herself - and for what? I couldn't - She -" Pepper runs up then. The tears break and stream down his face, and he and Pepper embrace. "She's gone," Tony keeps repeating.

Steve thinks he's not breathing. Maybe he hasn't been since Thanos 3 weeks ago. Maybe he died, and this is his nightmare, his Hell. Cursed to be in a world without you in it.

1944, 13 days before Christmas Eve.

It seems you'll never get that damn motorcycle back from Steve, so you've been tinkering with a new one. Using the last of the Tesseract infused bullets Howard had locked away. No one was here this late anyway.

You can feel the pulse of the tiny core in your pocket, the thin glass jar does little to protect it from you.

The bike is suspended above you. You're on a floor roller, the engine open, and parts scattered around you. You're sure it'll work just fine. Fore you, anyway. The tiny blue bead drops into your hand, and it pulses along with the beat of your heart. Carefully, you place it in the chamber in the engine you made. It whirs silently, then hums low. you pull your away slowly, waiting on bated breath for something to happen.

When all seems ok, you put the engine back together. All the parts going back where they started. The fuel tank is empty , you point a finger inside, powers surging through your hand and out your finger and into the tank.

You squint through the tinted goggles on your face, careful not to put too much force behind your powers. Just enough to jump-start the motorbike. You stop after a moment, exhaling a deep breath as your powers subside. You place the cap back on the fuel tank. The bike hums softly.

When you place your hand on the throttle, you ease it slowly. Twisting ever-so-slightly. It turns, the engine humming to life. It doesn't sound like a normal motorcycle, but that's what you were aiming for. Probably.

You let out a triumphant laugh. You did it. Everything seems stable. Small puffs of blue mist come from the exhaust. Residual energy from your powers, you assume.

Howard finds you like that in the morning, elbow deep in another project. You're humming a song you forgot the name of long ago, your foot taps absentmindedly out the beat.

"Nope," you pop the P. "Can't. They'll be back soon."

"Have you even gone to bed?" Howard leans his back next to you. Hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

"Y/N," he chides quietly. "You should get some sleep."

"You're one to talk," you grumble. "Ow!" You nick your finger on something sharp you can't see.

"Here," Howard takes your hand and examines it, his calloused fingers rubbing over your palm, straightening out your fingers. "Eh, doesn't look too bad, kid." He squeezes your hand between his. "Please get some rest. For me," he pleads. He gives you his best puppy eyes. Eyebrows puckered in the middle, there's a pout to his lips.

Your eyes drift to the cough in the far corner. There's a warm wool blanket draped over the back. You feel your shoulders sag just looking at it.

You're roused from sleep slowly, a dip in the sofa by your hip, a soft brush of fingers over your hair. A rumble of a voice calling to you.

"I'll wake you in a few house. Tops," Howard says. You him in annoyance and drag your feet over to the couch and plop down. "That's my girl," he calls from across the room. You just lift your hand in the air in response.

"Charlotte," it rumbles again, the hand runs down your back, rubbing soothing circles. You stir slightly, a grumble leaving your lips.

"5 minutes," you sigh.

"Charlie, get your ass off my couch!" Howard yells. You grunt in response. There's a familiar laugh next to you. Your heart skips a beat, leaping up into your throat.

You twist on the couch, the blanket wrapped around your legs as you try to sit up. You grin wide as your eyes land on Bucky.

"You're back!" You throw yourself at him, arms going around his neck as his wrap around you. "I missed you so mcuh, James," you mumble into his neck. It feels like you can breathe again for the first time in a while.

Bucky squeezes you tighter, "Hi, sweetheart," he says softly, his lips ghosting over your cheek.

"I thought you weren't getting in until tomorrow?" You don't want to let him go, you want to latch on to him and never let go. Your eyes shoot open, and you pull away from Bucky, eyes critical as they sweep over his features.

"How long was I asleep? Is it tomorrow?" Your head whips to look at Howard. He's smirking. "Howie!"

"You needed the sleep," he shrugs. You scrub a hand down your ace.

"I need coffee," you go to get off the couch, but Bucky pulls you into another hug. You laugh and pull away just enough to put your hands on his face. He smiles down at you, and you peck quick kisses on the spots you can reach. Bucky laughs in return, eyes squeezing shut when your lips pass over his lids.

"Are we goin' out tonight?" You ask, just loud enough for Howard to hear too.

"Anything you want, sweetheart," Bucky grins.

Howard groans, "As long as you're outta my lab. You two make me wanna stuff cotton in my ears. We'll go out, sure, but I need help with a few things first." You agree, telling Bucky you'll see him later, he leaves with a kiss to your forehead, and Howard rolls his eyes.

"I'm going back to the hotel to clean up. You should do the same," you call out as you leave the lab.

You stepped out of the shower feeling rejuvenated. Sleeping on a stuff couch for a few hours and working nonstop for almost a full day wore you out more than you cared to admit. You push the door open to the common room, expecting to see Bucky waiting, but that's not Bucky.

"Yeah, yeah," Howard's muffled voice responds.

"St-Steve?" Your face heats up the longer you two stare at each other. You see him visibly gulp, you pull your bathrobe tighter around your body.

"Ch-Charlie…" Red creeps up his chest and neck, taking over his face and ears.

You're standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a small bathrobe, water dripping off your hair, and your skin is still flushed from the hot shower. You might be getting lightheaded.

"where….?"

"The front desk," Steve says louder than he means to, he turns on his heel to face away from you. Back rigid and hands clenched tight at his sides. You nod, thought he can't see you.

"It's good to see you, Charlie," he says quieter. He turns his head slightly, eyes barely peaking back at you over his shoulder.

Your heart rate kicks up a beat, and you clutch the bathrobe tighter, making sure it's tied around your waist. The room is quiet. You know he can hear your heart from across the room. You shift on your feet, face heating up again. Steve's head tilts more so he can see you better out the corner of his eye.

"I-" the suite door rattles, and you squeak, shuffling back into your room. The door closes just as the main suite door opens. You can hear Bucky greet Steve and vise versa.

You heave a sigh, willing your heart to calm. You quickly dress, towel drying most of your hair, you'll deal with it later, and just braid it to the side. You emerge from your room 10 minutes later, Bucky and Steve sit on the couch together. Each on opposite ends, leaving the space between them open.

Steve has a full glass of dark liquor in his hand, Bucky's is nearly empty.

"Boys," you greet them. This time you wear a pinstripe suit. Black turtleneck and high heels. The pants are waste high, and the legs are wide. The belt around your waist is blue to match the gem in your bracelet and the one in your chest. You toss the pinstripe jacket over your shoulder, cocking your hip out as their eyes drift to you.

Bucky whistles low, "Damn, sweetheart," he gulps down the rest of his drink and pats the seat in the middle of the couch. "You always know how to out dress everyone." He crosses his leg over the other, ankle resting casually on his knee. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch as he eyes you.

Steve sits with his legs spread wide, an arm draped over the back of the couch, too. His fingers almost graze against Bucky's. His stare is heated, a smirk pulls at one side of his face, and he brings his glass to his lips. "Good to see you, Charlie," he greets you again.

You swallow and make your way over to the couch, "Hi, Steve," you toss your jacket onto the love seat before you go to sit.

Bucky jumps up before you can sit, claiming he has to get you a drink. You shake your head at him as he crosses the room to the car cart. You can feel the heat of Steve's body at your back as he silently stands behind you. He leans in close, a hand on your waist and his other holding his drink in front of you.

"Charlie can have mine, Buck," he rumbles. His voice vibrates through you with how close his chest is to your back. "Here," he says in your ear. Your fingers shake as you go to take the glass from him, his fingers skim down your arm as you grip the cool glass in your hand.

"Aren't ya thirsty, sweetheart?" Bucky asks. He's suddenly in front of you. The heat of the two of them around you is overwhelming. Steve's fingers on your hip grip you tighter as Bucky tips your glass to your lips.

You keep eye contact with him as you gulp a mouthful of whiskey down. Somehow, the burn of the liquor isn't nearly as bad as the two of them surrounding you make you feel.

"Better?" he asks. You nod slowly. The air is thick between you, your head a little fuzzy with Bucky and Steve so close. Bucky tips the glass to your lips again, and you take a slow pull this time.

When you swallow, you feel Steve's lips close to your ear. "Words, doll," he says. Bucky's eyes flick to his then back to you, "Finish her drink, Buck." Bucky does without hesitation, gulping down the last few mouthfuls of whiskey as if it were water.

"Yes," you whisper out. Steve's hand wipes the whiskey drops from Bucky's lip, then dip in his mouth. Bucky's tongue laps at Steve's thumb. And you think out might pass out. You whimper without meaning for the sound to leave your throat. Both men chuckle.

"Think she forgot we're such good friends, Stevie?"

"Steve?" "Stevie?"

Steve shakes his head, eyes refocusing in the room. "What?" You were standing near the far end of the couch with Bucky. You both give him a concerned look.

Steve clears his throat. He feels his face heat up, "Sorry, must have zoned out. What were you sayin'?"

"Said we're ready to go, punk. C'mon," Bucky throws an arm around your shoulders and starts to steer you towards the exit.

Steve lets out a big shuddering breath, still trying to get the image of you between him and Bucky out of his mind before he stands and catches up with you both.

"Ms. Charlotte?" You hear Rupert call from the lab entrance. "Are you in here?"

"Be right there, Rupert," you call. You finish your thoughts in your journal and stash it away in Howard's desk drawer. You grab your gear before you leave, "Ok, Rue, lead the way."

To say you were a little excited to finally be going on a mission with your friends was an understatement. You were over the moon.

You see Howard standing near where people are packing up one of the convoy trucks. He's waving his arms about, yelling about what crate goes where.

"Howie," you chide, he stops his arm waving to wrap one around your shoulder.s "Leave them be. They know what they're doing." Howard grunts but relents and steers you towards Steve, Bucky, and the Howlies.

"I don't know how I feel about you actually going through with this. Skulking around in the shadows is one thing. But this…" Howard mumbles to you.

"Everything's gonna be fine, Howie. They're finally gonna see what I can do." You smile at him, and he tries to return it. He knows how much this means to you. But it doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I like the suit you made for me," you tack on, Howard gives you a smirk and chuckles.

"Ok, kid, you're welcome."

"Here, wait," you tug him to a stop and take his camera from him. You hold the camera high in the air, wrap your arm around Howard's waist.

"What are you doin'?" he huffs. He tries to take it back from you, and as he's distracted, you kiss his cheek, snapping the photo as he protests. You laugh and hand it back to him.

Before you leave, you make sure to give Howard a hug, the smile never leaving your face. "Love you, Howie. I'll be back before you know it!"

Howard hums, his arms squeeze you a little tighter, "Yeah, yeah. You better go before they leave without you. And then I'd never hear the end of it," he smirks.

As he watches you board the back of the convoy truck, he raises his hand as you wave before the canvas closes and blocks you from view.

"Love you too, kid."

You were 5 miles from the next Hydra base, or so the map and intel had given you.

"We'll split in 2 groups," Steve started, running his fingers over the map. "Group A heads north of the complex, set the charges and fall back. Radio in when you're far enough away. Meet at the rendezvous here," he passes his fingers over another spot on the map and taps it.

"Group B, you're with me. We set charges on the south side, get in, and grab the things we need. Take out any hostile force we see.

"We'll have sniper cover as long as Buck can see us." Steve nods to Bucky, who nods in return.

"We've done this plenty of times before. A quick in, out, destroy. Let's show these Nazi bastard's what we're made of."

There's thunderous cheers as the Howlies break the huddle. They disperse and gather their equipment.

"Charlie, you sta -" Steve starts.

"Cap, if you tell me to stay here, I'll shoot you in the foot. I'm going with you."

Steve purses his lips, hands on his hips. He shakes his head, trying to disagree with you.

"You're not gonna win that one, pal," Bucky speaks up. You flash him a grin, and Steve sighs.

"You'd think you'd know me by now, Tough Guy," you playfully punch his arm.

You're about to split into your groups, just as dusk falls. Bucky gets up on a rock, taking the vantage point he needs to see the complex from. His rifle is already set up.

"Starkling, we're headed out," Dugan calls to you.

"Comin'!" You turn to Bucky. He looks up at you from his seated position. You step into Bucky's space, standing between his legs.

"Somethin' I can help you with, sweetheart?" Bucky smirks up at you, a hand skating up your leg to rest on your hip.

You run your fingers over his cheek, "I love you, James." It flows easily from your lips. You're not sure why you waited so long to say it. But now that you have, you don't want to stop. "I love you," you smile at him. You can feel the heat rise to his face under your hand.

Bucky's lips part, eyebrows pucker in the middle, and his eyes gloss over with tears. He's up in a flash, lifting you up as he rises to his feet. A laugh bubbles up from your chest. He kisses you then, sweetly. He's grinning wide against your lips.

"Charlotte Stark, I love you." He says against your lips. The smile on your face falters slightly. You're happy he said it, but a small part of you wishes he said your real name instead.

You take your bracelet off and place it in his hand, "Here, keep it." You peck him on the lips as you go to pull away. He stops you, pulling your hand back onto his chest.

"You mean the world to me, sweetheart. I hope you know that."

You smile up at him, "I know, James." When he lets your hand go, you step away and go to catch up with your group down the hillside.

"Charges set, Cap," you tell him. He nods and leads your group to the side entrance of the complex. There are far fewer Hydra soldiers guarding this facility than the others you've all encountered.

Steve tilts his head, eyebrows low under his helmet. He holds a hand up to tell your group to stop. Something doesn't feel right.

"Head back to the rendezvous point," Steve says low enough for everyone to hear. They nod and slink away. "You too, Charlie."

"Not gonna happen, Cap. Can't leave my partner alone on this one," You tap his shield, and he huffs but nods at you.

After silently making your way through the compound, you and Steve come upon a room filled with heavy weapons; machine guns, body armor, and grenade launchers. Some form of hand help canons.

"We found it," Steve breaths, a smile tugging his lips. He looks at you.

"Something doesn't feel right," you glance around. It's too quiet. "Where are all the guards?"

"We get what we came for and blow it all to hell. Let's go," Steve draws out his shield, securing it tightly on his arm as he leads you through a long corridor with a few closed doors.

"Check the rooms on the left, meet back here in 5," Steve waves a hand, and you both split up.

You find what you're looking for in the second room. Filing cabinets filled with the heavy weapons schematics Phillips and Spinner wanted. Right where Spinner said they would be.

Your fingers graze the files, and stop. You get that feeling again, a tug in your chest. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

As you enter the hallway, Steve is also standing there. He looks back at you with his typical Captain America look. Mouth in a grim line as he makes eye contact with you.

The lights go out.

"Cap…" you hedge closer, the urge to use your powers flare up your spine. You swallow it down.

"Let's go," he commands. All thought of getting any more intel from this facility goes out the window as you two jog towards the exit.

As you enter the main room with the weapons, a single light turns on overhead.

"Not so fast, Captain," the man says. He holds up one of the weapons from a crate. It's large. It looks like a rail gun attached to a backpack that glows an eerie blue.

This weapon is different from the others. Powered by the Tesseract, yes, but also something else. You can hear the weapon power up. The quiet hum and whirring echoed around the room.

The man steps forward, his face illuminated by the overhead light.

"Rupert?" Your stunned surprise makes him laugh. It crawls down your spin and sits in your stomach like a rock. You feel sick.

Steve angles his body in front of yours, shield raised high and defensive.

"What do you want?" Steve sticks his arm out in front of you to coral you backward, the both of you step backward together, inching toward the exit.

Rupert follows, his laugh echoes around the room as the rail gun in his arms starts charging.

"Oh, dear Captain…" his glasses flash in the light, and the grin on his face is anything but friendly. "It was never about you." His eyes catch yours, and your heart sinks. "Does your precious Captain know what you can do, love? Does that boyfriend of yours?" He spits. He cackles again, the rail gun in his hands whirs. He lifts it and fires a spray of bright blue bullets across the room.

Steve covers you with his body, shield up, protecting the both of you from harm. "Once it stops firing, make a run for the door," Steve says in your ear. You nod. After a few beats, the bullets finally stop, and the rail gun whirs and slowly stops.

Heavy laughter pierces the air, and you and Steve peak over the shield to see Spinner reloading.

"Run, Charlie," Steve pushes you toward the exit. He follows close behind you, shield coming in front of you to charge through the door.

Bullets rain again as you burst through the doors. They cut easily through the metal and concrete. Piercing through it like paper. You've never been more thankful for Steve's vibranium shield.

"This isn't where we're supposed to meet," you huff. "He forced us away from the others. Bucky," your eyes are wide and fearful.

"It's ok, we'll be fine. C'mon," Steve grabs your hand, and you both try to outrun the spray of bullets.

"If we make it to the rendezvous, we can blow the building. We're almost there, Charlie." The next rain of bullets stop, you tug your hand from Steve's and slump against the wall, heavy huffs of breath in the cold night air.

Steve kneels down next to you, catching his breath for a moment. When he catches your eye, you both nod and start to run again.

"There!" You point as you round the corner. You can see the Howlies at the treeline. On the other side of the iron rot fence.

You hear it before it lands, and earth shattering blast, then a bright blue light lands on the ground separating you and Steve. A giant crater from one of the canons, you assume. You're both knocked far apart, skidding and tumbling on the ground.

"Run all you want," Spinner calls from the roof, there's other men up there with him. Holding the majority of the heavy weapons. "But these bullets were made for you," he taunts again.

There's heavy bullet fire, this time aimed at Steve. He dodges and blocks the hail and runs for cover. The Hydra men keep suppressing fire on Steve and the Howlies. Keeping them away from you.

Spinner climbs down the ladder on the side of the building. He adjusts the rail gun at his side. It clinks with every step he takes.

"Why are you doing this?" You scramble backward as he advances. "Why work for Hydra?"

He laughs, the rail gun whirs to life, heating up as the Tesseract charged ammo glows menacingly. "For the future of humanity, love. And you won't be part of it. To see Hydra's rise to glory."

You glare up at him, your powers flare in your chest, "I'm from the future, you fucking asshole. News flash! You - Hydra, the Nazis - you all lose!" Your hands burst into blue flame and you jump to your feet and lunge towards Spinner.

The rail gun lets out a whine. It fires as he tries to back track away from you. A few bullets wiz past you, the heat of them leaving marks on your exposed skin.

Your fist lands and hits Spinner in his chest. He goes flying back until he hits the wall, hard, crumbling to the ground in a heap. The rail gun whines louder now as you approach. The suppressing fire from the roof slows. You can hear Steve shout for you, but you ignore him.

You're standing over Rupert now, your chest heaves with anger and frustration, your arms fully engulfed in blue flames. "You were my friend," you grit out. Tears of frustration threaten to fill your eyes and spill over. He laughs, blood pouring from a wound on his head, down his forehead. He coughs up blood as he looks up at you, glasses cracked and hanging off his face.

He holds a shaky hand up, your eyes zero in on his finger, and a pull pin dangles from it. Your wide eyes catch his for a second, blood seeping down into his eyes.

"Hail…Hydra," he rasps, his palm opens and out rolls another Tesseract fueled weapon in the form of a grenade.

Your heart plummets to your stomach, and your head whips to Steve, who's running to you with his shield raised to block the remaining gunfire. He catches your eyes.

Time seems to slow as you hold your hand up to stop him. The immediate panic on his features breaks your heart. You open a portal to stop the blast wave of the grenade. Being this close to the complex, if Spinner's grenade explodes, so will the charges your team set. And they are too close to the blase radius. They'll be caught in it, too.

The portal opens and swallows both you and Spinner. There's no end destination in your mind, just far enough away from your friends that they won't be affected.

"Charlie!" Steve shouts. One second, you're in front of him, and the next, a dark cloud engulfs you, and you're gone. Spinner is gone.

The next second, an explosion high in the sky goes off. Blinding blue and illuminating the night sky. It's terrifyingly beautiful.

There's a thud next to him. He jumps in surprise. You're lying there at his feet, scorch marks on your suit, Steve's nose scrunches at the smell. There's puffs of blue smoke coming off your body like steam.

Steve bends down to touch you but retracts his hand. Your skin is like fire. It burns his fingers to touch you.

"Charlie?" his hands hover above you, unsure of how to help.

You gasp for breath, hoarse and rough going in. You can't feel your fingers or toes. It feels fuzzy and static, and you feel weightless and heavy at the same time. It's hard to focus on Steve's face, blood, and tears cloud your vision. You try to smile at him, but you grimace in pain.

"J-just hold on, we'll get you help," Steve looks behind him, at people you can't see. Your fingers brush over his leg, and he jolts. "Charlie…"

"It's…ok…"

Steve tries to scramble towards you, your body slowly dissolving into a foggy dark mist. He's calling for you, but you're already gone. He shouts for Bucky again, his best friend so close, but not close enough. Not in time to call out to you or say he loves you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as the mist takes more of you away. When Bucky skids to a stop next to Steve, falling to his knees, he lets out a broken sound.

"Sweetheart?" Bucky's out of breath. "Charlotte?" His hand comes down to touch you, but it goes through you, your body erupting into a blue mist, and then you're gone.

It feels like you're floating. Slowly drifting backward. Maybe landing on the soft grass beneath your feet. Softly, smoothly falling.

There's a streak of blue across the sky. A shooting star illuminated the night sky and plummeting to earth. Hard and fast and unrelenting.

Howard bends over, gasping for breath as he clutches his at his chest. It hurts. God, it hurts so much. Is he having a heart attack? He can't breathe. His eyes brim with tears, and they spill over hot down his cheeks. Why is he crying? He gasps again, and the air in his lungs feels like it's burning him from the inside.

"Howard! What's wrong?" Peggy holds him by the arm, trying to get him to sit down. He shakes his head as he stares wide eyed at her.

"I- I don't know," he breathed in deep. The pain is gone, but he has a sinking feeling in his gut that it's only just beginning.

"Have you even made new friends in the city?" Green eyes glance sideways towards Steve, a perfect eyebrow raised in question.

Steve huffs, "Who needs friends when I got you, Nat?"

"Smart ass," she chuckles. They sit in companionable silence for a while. It's not often Steve comes out to visit Natasha at the compound. It stirs up bad memories of life before the snap.

"Oh, look," Nat points to the sky, a bright blue light streaks across the sky. It's traveling fast, too fast, he thinks, for a shooting star. A meteor burning up in the Earth's atmosphere. But it seems almost familiar.

"Think it's Carol?" he asks absentmindedly. Natasha hums.

"I talked to her a few days ago. She never mentioned coming back Earth side so soon…" Nat stands, bare feet padding through the grass. Her eyes squint, trying to focus more.

The streak looks like it's picking up speed, it turns midair, changing directions towards the compound.

Steve stands on alert, "It's coming this way," he warns. He grabs Nat by her bicep, pulling her along and far away from the falling star, plummeting towards them.

It's silent in its decent. The only noise to be heard is when it smashes into the ground. The impact of creating a giant 30-foot crater in the ground.

The bright blue light shines in the darkness. Like a small sun, Steve and Nat have to squint and block their eyes as they come closer, peering into the crater.

It hums, pulsing like a heartbeat as they approach cautiously. The light dims as they near.

"What the hell," Nat breaths out. In the center of the crater lies a person. Huddles in a tight ball, arms wrapped around legs. The figure is floating, suspended in the air a few meters above the ground. Hair billowing out in wisps.

It uncurls its body slowly, Steve steps in front of Natasha, arm blocking her advance. Slowly unfolding limbs stretch out, toes flex before they touch the dirt beneath them. The ground pulses at the contact. The light fades and sucks back inward to the figure as it inhales a deep, gasping breath. Chest heaving then relaxing. Another pulse through the ground and then the air around them returns to normal. One foot steps forward, then knees give out, and the figure crumbles to the ground in a heap.

The glow is gone now. The only light left is in the center of its chest. She, from what Nat and Steve could tell. A woman. She rolls over, a soft groan leaving her lips.

Natasha gasps, hand flying to her mouth, "Oh my God," she rushes forward, falling to her knees by the unconscious body. "Steve, your flannel," Nat snaps him out of his thoughts. He shrugs his shirt off and hands it to Natasha.

The woman is naked, hair matted and dirty. It looks like she's been rolling in mud. It's caked on her skin in layers.

"How?" Steve croaks. He swallows around a lump in his throat. He falls to his knees next to Nat. She has tears in her eyes when she looks up at Steve. There's a look on her face that he hasn't seen in years.

"I don't know. But we have to get her inside. Call Bruce and Tony," she smooths hair back from a dirt covered face. "Hang on, Y/N. Help is coming."

tags: @valckenaux

#the way back #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #Howard Stark #Peggy Carter

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frxstbyt · 18 hours ago

Text

Okay, so I actually wrote something for this— 🤓

Uh, TW/CW for animal death, vomiting and swearing.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Dally asks as Two-Bit turns on the car’s ignition.

“We’s just goin’ for a drive, Dal,” Two-Bit answers, turning the radio on. “You’re always with Ponykid. I miss hanging out with my buddy,” he adds, smile faltering at he looks over at Dally.

Dally frowns slightly. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah, sorry about that.” His gaze lowers for a moment before flicking back up to Two-Bit. “I’ve just been kinda worried about him, y’know? After Johnny...” He stops, throat closing up. He turns his head away, not wanting Two-Bit to see the tears in the corners of his eyes.

Two-Bit’s chest tightens. He knew what Dally was going to say: “After Johnny died.” It’s been six months since his death and Dally was still struggling to accept that as fact. Hell, Two-Bit himself was too. The whole gang was still grieving. Ponyboy had it the worst; Two-Bit knows how close he’d been with Johnny, and it was hard watching the kid grieve. But, life goes on, and hopefully, some day, Ponyboy’d move on, too.

Two-Bit claps a hand on Dally’s broad shoulder, and the blond turns to face him. His eyes are glossy and rimmed-red slightly, but Two-Bit doesn’t dare to call it out. He’d rather keep his nose intact thankyouverymuch.

“Tell ya what,” he says, “let’s go over to Dairy Queen and pick up some lunch. I skipped breakfast and I’m about starved.”

Dally smirks. “Your mama forget to go grocery shoppin’ yesterday?” he teases.

“No,” Two-Bit says, “I woke up late, s’all.” He puts the car in reverse and starts backing up. The car bounces a bit, startling both young men. Two-Bit stops the car, a bewildered look on his face as Dally peers out the window. “Dang, I didn’t know Darry installed a speedbump!” Two-Bit laughs, slapping the steering wheel with both hands.

“THAT WASN’T A SPEEDBUMP, YOU CHICKEN FRIED FUCK,” Dally bellows, whipping his head around. His eyes are huge and his face is whiter than his hair. “THAT WAS MY CAT!”

Two-Bit stares, horrified.

Uh oh...

─────

The veterinarian holds Dally’s hair back as he dry heaves into the trash can (again), rubbing his back soothingly with their other hand. They look up when they hear Two-Bit murmer, “Jesus Christ...”

Two-Bit sits in one of the room’s plastic chairs, hunched over with his head in his hands. He still can’t believe what he’s done. He’s killed Dally’s cat. Well, kind of. The cat was still alive when they rushed him to the vet’s office, hoping that there was a chance to save him—a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. But the damage had been done, the feline’s injuries too severe to salvage, and the doctors had no choice but to put him out of his misery.

Two-Bit glances up as Dally finishes dry heaving, the vet wiping the vomit from his lips with a tissue before the blond crashes down onto the floor, face-first, sobbing loudly. The vet gives him a soft, sad, empathetic look before tossing the tissue into the trash can, standing up and walking over to Two-Bit.

“Let’s get him somewhere more comfortable,” the man says quietly, gesturing to Dally. “I don’t want him scaring anyone and their pets.”

Two-Bit nods, pushing himself to his feet and making his way over to the weeping blond. He kneels down and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Dally,” he whispers, “let’s get outta here. There ain’t no reason to be here any longer than we need to be.”

Dally lifts his head up slightly, blinking at Two-Bit through the thick tears that cloud his vision. He looks down and gives the slightest hint of a nod, sniffling.

Two-Bit blinks away his own tears. “C’mon,” he says as he and the veterinarian struggle to lift Dally to his feet, “I’ll bring ya home.”

─────

“YOU WHAT?”

Steve stares at Two-Bit, horrifed, as Two-Bit nods. “Yeah. I...” He pauses for a moment, then sighs heavily. “I ran ‘im over in the driveway and the vet had to put him down,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sodapop gapes at him. “Oh my god...” he breathes, pressing a hand over his heart. “I can’t imagine how Dal must be feeling.” His brown eyes soften and well up. He sniffs, blinking back tears.

“God, that’s horrible,” Darry mumbles, still holding the newspaper he’d been reading before Two-Bit walked in. “But I’m sure Dally’ll forgive you some day. It was an accident, after all.”

Two-Bit scoffed. “If Dally ever did forgive me for killin’ his cat, I’d die of shock.”

“Wait,” Ponyboy says, lowering his book, green eyes wide as he turns to Two-Bit, “it was his cat? Like, he actually adopted it?”

Two-Bit nods.

Ponyboy stares at him for a while, then snorts. “He ain’t ever gonna forgive you,” he says, turning back to his book. “You’re fucked.”

“Big time,” Two-Bit agrees. He sighs again and presses the heels of his hands over his eyes. “What am I gonna do? Dally hates me now.”

“He hates you even more,” Ponyboy points out without looking up from his book.

“Pony,” Darry says sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. His gaze moves over to Two-Bit, softening. “He’ll forgive you some day, Two. I know he will.”

Two-Bit groans, flopping back into the couch cushions, an arm thrown over his eyes. “Can we change the subject?”

“Sure thing, bud,” Steve pipes up, shuffling the cards in his hands. “You wanna play a round’a poker?”

Two-Bit peeks at him under his arm. “Yeah, why not?” He sits up and slides off the couch to sit on the floor in front of the table across from Steve. Steve shuffles the cards one last time before distributing them.

“Count me in, too!” Sodapop chimes, plopping down in between them. Steve rolls his eyes and flicks a card at his nose, grinning when Soda blurts out, “Hey!”

Two-Bit rolls his eyes and looks down at the cards in his hand as Soda and Steve start wrestling around on the floor. (Sodapop must’ve been sneaking the ace into his sock again and Steve caught him in the act.) His mind strays over to Dally, but he shakes it off after a moment. He can talk to Dal tomorrow.

The ending SUCKS, but I ain’t changin’ it. Ù-Ú

Hope you liked it, lol.

TWO-BIT: *pulls out of the driveway*

*car bounces*

TWO-BIT: SPEEDBUMP!

DALLAS: THAT WAS MY CAT.

#the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #dallas winston #two-bit mathews #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #johnny cade #dally’s cat #my writing #reblog

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cod-indulgences · 2 days ago

Note

Completely forgot to send this as an ask-

Can you write the puffy skirt senario for Gaz please-

Since they have different personalities and all

Gaz x female!reader, oral, clothing fetish, skirt fetish?, tbf its only you in the skirt he cares about

Alt version of the ghost ask

The first time you wear one around Gaz he just laughs, it's so fluffy and froofy, it's delightful. He insists on taking pictures, encouraging you to pose, and when you tell him you have a closet full of these he gasps in wonder.

You make sure to wear one on your dates from now on, different colors to match your dresses, layering them for extra fluff. His face lights up every time, and you treasure those smiles, the way he squeezes you close for kisses, how happy it makes you to see him.

The first time he spends the night, he doesn't let you undress fully- he gets you up against the door with your skirt flowing over his head and shoulders, panties yanked to the side in his hurry to get his tongue in you. When he finally emerges with his chin wet, he wipes his face on the fabric, a smear of your come stickily clinging. You're so wet, wanting him so much, you don't bother with getting naked either- you drag him into a kiss, licking your come out of his mouth, and he lifts you up and fucks into you right there, strong arms holding you up just right to hammer his cock into your g-spot.

He slows and adjusts you, and you can't see past the bunches of fabric, but Gaz moans low in his chest as he watches his cock sliding in and out, the way your pussy clings to him, all of it framed with a puffy cloud of skirts and layers.

Sooner than you think it's something he can't get enough of- eating you out while standing with the skirts bunched over him, fucking you from behind as the fabric rustles and wrinkles, holding it in his fists to yank you back on his cock.

You like to ride him with it too, dragging your pussy up and down his cock, teasing him with little peeks through the lace. He moans and leaks precome like a faucet, smearing it over the layers, until you can smell the thick sweat-sex smell every time you move, like an aura around you both. You stop even wearing underwear with the skirts, knowing it'll just get ruined anyway, and the first time Gaz lifts your skirt up and sees your bare pussy, wet for him, he nearly comes in his pants.

He can't say why he likes it so much- just something about the softness of it all, the ridiculous layers, the way your ass looks as you bounce around, flashing thighs and the little tight curve of your cunt under it all- it just does something for him. He eats you out until your hips are thrashing from the stimulation and leaves you dripping, knowing it'll make wet spots on the inside layers for only you and him to see. He jerks off over your ass as you finger yourself and wipes his cock on your skirt.

One night you're riding him again, bouncing on his cock as he holds your hands away from your clit, whining, and he stuffs a layer of the skirt into your mouth as a gag- and oh, fuck, the bunched-up wad wedged into your teeth, the wet slap of his cock into your pussy, knowing now there's going to be spit soaked into it- you moan, eyelids fluttering, as Gaz swears and fucks his hips up sharply, rolling you into your back to get inside to the hilt. He shoves your knees up, and between your legs and the messy cascade of skirts you go blind, vision blocked and left with the physical sensation and sloppy wet noises, Gaz grunting and moaning, and you clamp tight around his cock as you come, thighs shaking, dragging Gaz over the edge with you. When he pulls out a frothy mess of come leaks out of your swollen pussy, a little puddle soaking into the skirts wedged under your ass.

After that, the skirt is saved in your closet, and only worn at home- when you try and wear that particular one in public again, Gaz almost gets you both arrested for public indecency.

#cod #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #ask #an indulgence #a rare non-tits obsessed Gaz for your reading pleasure

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tonycries · 8 months ago

Text

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Synopsis. The question isn’t whether he can make you squírt - it’s how and where.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, squírting, unprotected, creampíe, exhíbitionism (Sukuna’s and Choso’s), bréeding, Shiu cameo, messy, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, Sukuna’s thigh tattoos, thigh ríding chokíng, overstím, finger suckíng, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.1k

A/N. I think I’m in some early ovulation week because…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Prove it.

Now, does Toji know he’s the best you’ve ever had in bed? Of course.

Is he proud of how he’s done everything and anything - had you folded in half underneath him, stuffed from all ends, and cumming harder than any other loser before him did? Hell yeah.

Does it bother him when Shiu makes some off-hand comment about how he’s able to make someone squirt? Well, it was hard not to when the man just laughs right in Toji’s dumbfounded face, saying something about how your pretty pussy is “missing out” and to come to Shiu if you want to have a good time.

Surely, that stupid conversation doesn’t bother him, right? Right?

Wrong.

He was going to prove that bastard Shiu wrong.

“Damn. Not that one either.”

If you could, you’d probably let out a sob - but right now, you’re too cockdrunk to even think let alone cry. Unsure if you’re even breathing as Toji wrestles your limp body - still twitching and sensitive from your nth high - upright on his lap. Whispering a ragged, “Guess we just hafta try again. Right, doll?”

“Please!” you let out a strangled yelp as Toji’s big hands snake down to steady your hips, all stuttering and messily sucking up his aching cock. Again. “I-I don’t think I can- ah-”

Whatever plea on the tip of your tongue is shut up by Toji pulling your teary face towards his, kissing your swollen lips so softly. Reverent, even.

The complete opposite of his hips down below, not even bothering to move anymore, hands on your ass just dragging your sloppy pussy up and down his swollen dick. Up and down up and down up and-

“Toji–”

“Aww, c’mon, pretty.” Toji groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he spreads your puffy folds further, bullying his cock so impossibly deep. “G-gotta prove it to that f-fucker that I’m the best, right?”

Ah, there it was - if you were in any better state of mind you’d have cursed out Shiu already. Taunting your boyfriend into this stupid little challenge that had him storming into your apartment and ripping off your poor panties. And you split apart on his cock and cumming over and over again like he wouldn’t - couldn’t - stop until you squirted. Like it killed him to make you miss out on this little thing.

“Now now, doll.” you jolt as he gives your sopping pussy a little smack! Grinning at your nails digging into his thick shoulders, “Focus. Hah- we gotta have her squirtin’ all over me now, right?”

You really can’t help the way you’re giving him a delirious little nod. Hips bouncing back pathetically in an attempt to meet the way Toji was bouncing you so sinfully on his cock like his favorite toy. And it’s so cute that Toji’s murmuring a low, “Use your words, doll.”

“I- ngh-”

Not like he was giving you a chance to, rolling your ravaged clit between his fingers, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “Louder.”

“Gonna- gonna squirt for you, Toji…”

If he was any lesser man (Shiu) Toji thinks he might’ve just cum in your snug pussy right then and there. Filled you up till you’re bloated and forgetting any promise of squirting - but no, that’s for later.

Right now, he’s flattening his feet on the mattress, falling onto his back - two big arms pulling your overstimulated body to rest against his muscles. Not even wasting a second before fucking up into your tight cunt like such an animal.

Sloppy - so, so desperate.

Just rough, jagged movements of his hips because shit if Toji doesn’t make you squirt this time then he’s gonna lose his sanity. Might’ve already lost it, actually, with each adorable ah! ah! ah! falling from your kiss-bitten lips each time he hits that one spot so easily.

“Bit- bit more-” he grits out, feeling that familiar way your plushy walls were trying to squeeze him dry. Your cunt too heavenly. The stimulation too much. “Jus’ a bit more, pretty.”

“Oh my god- Toji- ah- Toji Toji Toji-” It’s all you can do to whine, writhing as he holds your hips still, rocking harder into you. Clawing at the soaked sheets, his shoulders, his hair - anything to try and hold onto whatever semblance of control you had left. “M’so- close-”

“Yeah?” And Toji sounds so utterly wrecked already, looking up at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. Voice strained, awe-struck like he couldn’t even believe it. His pretty girl - cumming for him again. “Squirt f’me, doll.”

You don’t even realize it when you are at first - just that something snaps and suddenly you’re soaking Toji’s cock in all your sweet sweet juices. Until it was dripping down the side, onto the mattress.

So messy and sinful - gummy walls squeezing his dick so fucking tight it almost hurt, covering his abs till they were glistening. Toji can’t bring himself to do anything but watch, for once in his life actually grateful that Shiu goaded him into doing something. Jaw-dropped at the way you’re gushing all around him - like you couldn’t stop. Again and again and-

“S-see? Fuck- What- oh shit, doll. All f’me? Good girl.” Eyeing that phone propped up by the bedside, Shiu’s face watching over the obscene mess on the bed. “What did I tell ya?”

“Heh, well whatever. Can ya make her do it twice?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Love is blind

Now, it’s not often that Nanami Kento took off his glasses. Rarely when he cuddled, not usually when he was kissing you - his pretty lil’ wife. And never when it was your lips down below that he was making out with.

“So messy.” Nanami mutters, muffled around your puffy folds. Each word making you arch against the soft mattress. “Are you this messy just f’me? M’so lucky, my love.”

It’s all you can do to yelp as Nanami slides his tongue warningly between your folds, flicking at your swollen clit just enough to have you gripping so tightly at his blond strands. Pulling Nanami’s face up from between your thighs with a strained groan.

And oh you assumed he was exaggerating, but it was so fucking difficult to look at Nanami, too. Glasses slightly foggy, cheeks flushed. Your sweet juices glossing his lips so prettily, dripping all the way down his jaw. Head tilting back ever-so-slightly to let it slide down his throat.

Making your head spin as he reaches over to press a chaste, wet peck to your lips. “Jus’ let me take care of it.”

And take care of it he does. Immediately taking his favorite place in-between your legs, stuffing his face nose-deep into your dripping cunt. Hot tongue giving one, long lick up your folds, just barely dipping between them. The slow torture was delicious.

“Kento-.” you let out a pouty little whine, one that goes straight to Nanami’s aching cock. Ankles hooking around his broad shoulders to pull him impossibly closer, “D-don’t tease.”

He’s letting out such a dark chuckle, hot against your sloppy hole. Awe-struck at the way you’re glistening and clenching around nothing - so much so that Nanami almost considers taking off those tinted glasses to see this heavenly view better.

But no, instead, he’s breathing out a little, “Fine.” Interrupting your soft sigh of relief to continue, “But you better not get my hah- glasses dirty, darling.”

Nanami doesn’t wait for your response - he doesn’t have to. Already knowing that you’ll be giving him a delirious little nod in agreement. So he’s digging his neat fingernails into your hips, pulling you closer to spread your lips with his tongue. Lapping so obscenely at the slick beading at your cunt over and over and-

It wasn’t enough.

“Shit. Fuck-” you flinch - maybe from those depraved little profanities hissed into your cunt. Maybe from the cold metal of his glasses hitting your heated core. Probably from the way Nanami was bullying his soft tongue into your tight pussy.

Pushing past that feeble resistance, one hand reaching behind to arch your deeper into his mouth. The other toying with your sensitive clit. Rolling the nub between two long fingers while he dips in and out of your hole at such a ruthless pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck, Kento-” you’re grabbing at the expensive sheets so hard you worry they might tear. Thighs shaking and sliding off his shoulders. “S’too much- too deep.”

And ah, for how much Nanami pretends to be annoyed as he wraps your legs back around his head - it sends all the blood in his body rushing straight to his cock at how wrecked his cute wife was.

Moaning around your entrance, “Remember what I mm- said.” Your juices starting to drip down the corners of his mouth now. “Get it dirty and-”

“Kento! Oh my god-” You buck wildly as he starts drawing lewd little circles on your clit. Nanami’s little warnings the last thing on your mind as you feel yourself losing more and more of your sanity with each drip! drip! drip! of your slick down onto the mattress below.

Glasses completely fogged now, he makes out with your cunt through pure, feral need. Tongue matching in time with each yelp of his name leaving your mouth.

“F-fuck.” Nanami’s smacking his lips against your own. “You taste so good. So heavenly.” Your gummy walls sucking him up so sinfully that it was almost difficult to move faster, more erratic. “Gonna make a mess f’me now? Gonna hah-”

And, well, you did always manage to surprise him.

Because Nanami doesn’t even get to finish his sentence, before your slutty pussy is gushing all around him.

Everywhere. Making such a mess as he tonguefucks you through your high, letting you use and angle his mouth all you wanted. So so sloppy with the way you’re soaking him in all your juices - down his chin, his tongue, all the way up to his sharp cheekbones and even-

“My glasses.” Head so fucked-out already, you almost miss Nanami’s dangerous little mutter. Raising your eyes to meet his and oh. Shit. “You dirtied my glasses.”

As if to prove his point, Nanami them off, running a long finger down his frames. Slowly. Agonizingly. Pooling all your sweet slick on his fingertips, so tauntingly inspecting it in the dim lighting.

In a split-second, those dripping wet glasses are resting on the bridge of your nose, forcing you to peer over them at a dangerously looming Nanami.

“Told ya not to dirty my glasses, my love.” Smiling so dangerously, “Think this naught cunt of yours should be taught a lesson for that.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Favorite part

Geto thinks that this might be his favorite part, whispering a ragged little, “God, do you know how pretty you hah- look right now?”

You didn’t - and it’s all you can do to even try and understand what your boyfriend was even cooing from behind. Too caught up in the way your legs were so pathetically trembling with the need to bounce back on his swollen cock.

“Hngh- f-fuck Sugu- I-”

Sure to leave such lewd little marks for Geto to ogle at tomorrow, his toned pelvis against your ass, heavy balls on your clit, fingers on your hips to steady your fucked-out self. Sloppy - bruising, even.

So it only made sense that your high was the same - and he can only watch, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, jaw falling slack in disbelief at the way your cunt was just gushing all around him. Fucking him over and over through your high.

“Shit- shit shit shit.” you hear him breathe, fingers toying with your pretty clit desperately. “Jus’ like that. Good girl.”

Your sweet sweet juices soaking his painfully hard cock, dripping down, down, down his heavy balls, glistening against his thighs. Squirting so obscenely around his twitching cock and shit- he just can’t help but go over the edge as well.

“Oh- oh god.” Geto throws his head back, giving you one, harsh thrust before he’s spilling all into your quivering cunt. Coating your walls such an obscene white, “This pussy is ngh- magic, gorgeous. Fucking love her.”

Loved how you were squeezing him so tight.

Loved how you were so messy.

Loved how it made him think that you could squirt all over his dick again.

And he can’t stop - couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Hips still moving in quick, ragged jabs to your poor cervix, eyeing the way your poor, abused pussy was still drooling all around him. A lewd little mess of slick and cum, forming a pool on the sheets below.

And Geto can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted - why would he? After all, this was his favorite part, right?

“You can mm- gimme another one, right?” You shiver as he flattens his feet on the damp mattress, kissing up your arched spine. Keening at the change in angle as his cock bullies impossibly deeper. Stars behind your eyes at how unfairly easily he finds that one spot. “Your slutty pussy’s gonna s-squirt all over me again?” Fat head hitting it over and over and-

“Suguru!” you squeal, and Geto raises his brows. Knowing you were absolutely fucking wrecked already - you never called him by his full name until you were fucked so dumb you couldn’t remember his nickname. “S’too- much. M’too ngh- sensitive.”

Your hands reach out to grab for the headboard - nails digging into the wood. Geto’s throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls so agonizingly that you almost miss him mutter a quiet, “Now, that won’t do.”

And before you know it, his big hands are prying yours off the bed, intertwining them so gently with his. Romantic - but you knew better, Geto just didn’t want his pretty girl to run away.

Not when he knew you were so close - could tell by that breathy little ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips.

“Please-”

Huffing in amusement, “Please what?”

And you don’t even know what you’re begging for - maybe for mercy? For Geto to let you fucking breathe? His cock too bruising against your cunt, drawing out incoherent whines with each drag of his tip down all the right spots. Trying so desperately to fuck that second orgasm out of you.

“Heh, can’t even fuck- talk.” And it’s so dizzing how he’s puncturing each word with such a rough ram of his cock. So mean with the way he dips a hand lower to graze a long finger down your sensitive cunt - so messy and sensitive. Chuckling at your cute lil’ whines - at the way they’re suddenly cut short when Geto shoves his dripping wet fingers between your lips. “Ngh- well, if you don’t wanna talk…”

Close. Too close.

You mewl at the way he was pressing right at the back of your tongue, feeling the lewd little taste of him and you and him. “Mmmpf- what are you-”

“At least don’t try to escape, gorgeous.” he leans in close - so close. Long inky hair tickling your spine, breath hot against your ear, lips grazing yours. You think you could just pass out right then and there as his soft tongue darts out to lick at the mess he’s smeared across your glossy lips.

Grinning at the taste, at that look in your eyes that told him your cute cunt was about to give him another show, “Cuz this is my favorite part.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Hair tie

If anyone found out why Choso Kamo was never seen without that black hair tie around his wrist, they’d laugh in your face and tell you what a great joke that was.

That inconspicuous little thing he’d take around everywhere, whether he had his hair up or not. It’s not like he exactly needed it, and most just assumed it was a fashion statement.

Only you knew what it meant to have Choso thumbing that little red imprint in public. Hooking a finger underneath, pulling back ever-so-slightly to let it snap! against his skin. Looking you right in the eyes as he does. Something dangerous. Subtle. Something that has you pressing your thighs together.

Something that has him pulling you to the nearest changing room in this crowded shopping mall, one hand covering your mouth, muffling your sweet sweet moans. The other, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt.

“Sorry, baby.” he gasps, kissing your forehead so mockingly gently. “You just looked so fuckin’ pretty in that skirt. Needed you so- hah- bad.”

The skirt that was currently bunched at your waist, crumpling at Choso pushes you harder against the cool wall.

But Choso couldn’t give a fuck about that right now, not as he shoves a knee between your trembling legs. He couldn’t have his girl falling now, right? Long fingertips so desperately massaging your plushy walls, searching for that one-

“Mmpfh! Hngh-”

Found it.

Without another word, he’s reeling two fingers back - all the way until they were barely kissing your sloppy hole. Plunging back in, hitting that spot over and over like he was addicted to the way your cunt was trying to suck him up so good. High off of every cute lil’ whine that escapes through his palm.

“Shit, so fuckin’ gorgeous.” Breath hot against your ear, “Look.”

You barely even realize it before you are, gasping at the obscene sight below. Your drenched panties pulled so lazily to the side. Sloppy.

“Can’t get enough. Shit-” Pulling back to show off your slick glistening on his fingers, dripping down, down, down to that sinful hair tie. “Fuuuck, baby. Need you to cum on my fingers. Please. Please-” Puffy folds milking Choso’s fingers so hard that you wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether his wrist wasn’t cramping up now, fingers sore.

And if they were, then, Choso didn’t show it. Instead, he’s bullying a third finger inside your poor cunt, the stretch too much that you can’t help but squeal. So fucking loud.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Is everything alright in there, ma’am?”

Oh if the way your heavenly cunt was clenching around him was anything to go by, then Choso wished he did this sooner.

So entranced that he almost missed the concerned, “Ma’am?” from outside.

“Wh-what’s the matter, baby?” he whispers lowly, biting down teasingly at your earlobe. Fingers still relentless, speeding up, even. And you could only pray the employee outside couldn’t hear the lewd squelches as he did. “Shy? Answer the hah- question.”

And shit, you could cry as he wrenches his hand away from your mouth. Grinning as you let out a broken little, “Y-yeah.” Cringing at how unconvincing you sound, “I’m jus-”

Whatever stupid excuse that was to come out of your mouth dies in your throat as Choso runs his thumb over your throbbing clit.

“I-I’m al-right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And it’s as if he takes that up as a challenge to prove you’re so utterly not.

Not when Choso’s drawing tight little circles in time with the way he’s hitting that one spot, arching you like such a slut into his touch. Ignoring the concerned remarks from outside as he speeds up his pace, not even bothering to cover your mouth this time because he wanted to hear all your pretty moans.

So much so that you’re mentally preparing to get caught - maybe even arrested.

But still you’re so close.

Halfway through imagining how Choso would snap his hair tie during the trial when that voice speaks up again. “Well…please let us know if you need any help.”

Those footsteps from outside barely even heading away before he’s sighing, “She’s gone now.” he bites down on your lower lip. “Y’can hah- cum f’me, y’know? Make a mess?” Grinding down his rock-hard erection on your thigh, already so damp through his pants. “Fucking cover me in it.”

And then you are - all over Choso’s hand. Kissing him hard, to stop yourself from screaming as he quirks his fingers just right. Fucking you through your high as you drench him in all your juices, soaking his hair tie, trailing onto the floor in a lewd drip! drip! drip!

Obscene. Exactly the way he wanted it.

So fucking pretty with the way you’re squirting all over his hand, thighs trembling, lips wobbling. That new skirt of yours so filthy now that Choso can’t help but eye the pile of clothes right next to you. Gritting out a ragged, “We got so many more clothes to try on.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - X marks the spot

“You’re going to cum f’me just like this, okay, brat?”

Maybe it’s the way you’re sat so prettily on Sukuna’s muscular thigh, squirming ever-so-slightly as he starts bouncing his leg to the beat of the thumping music. Maybe it’s the way you can’t do anything but let out a stifled gasp, desperately trying not to attract any attention towards the two of you in the dimly-lit VIP area of this overcrowded club.

But Sukuna just can’t help but tease you.

Can’t help but trail a finger along your thigh, goosebumps rising so deliciously at the scrape of his nail. Up, up, up to confirm his suspicious and oh-

He was right. No panties.

“Heh, such a naughty little minx, aren’t ya?” he can’t help the surprise that bleeds into his voice, pulling your back flush against his chest. Cradling your neck into his pecs, “Acting all innocent but you’re just begging to be used like such a slut, huh?”

The clink of a belt, and suddenly you’re feeling a sliver of skin - warm. Soft, sat right above where you knew he had that sinful little tattoo.

“B-but Kuna-” you flinch as the cold air hits you before you know it. Looking over your shoulder to catch that fucking smug smirk as Sukuna flips your flimsy skirt to rest your dripping cunt on his bare thigh. And to anyone else, it would probably just look like you’re just seated on his lap. But you gasp, “Here?”

“Why not?”

If anyone heard your broken whine, then you didn’t have the courage to raise your head and look. Hazy eyes locked with Sukuna’s as he starts rocking you on his thigh. Fingers digging into your hips, dragging your sloppy pussy. Grip tight, bruising almost - like he was trying to hold himself back from doing anything more.

“Aww, my messy girl.” And fuck if it wasn’t difficult to not just fuck you right then and there with the way your puffy folds were spread on his thigh. Drooling all the way down to the gaudy couch below. “Who’re you this wet for?”

But Sukuna’s skin against your was so hot. Your brain too foggy. His words too mean. And you can’t help but let out some incoherent babble.

One that has him wrapping a hand around your neck, nails positioned right above your racing pulse, forcing you to blink tearily up at him. “Sorry, pretty. Can’t hear you above this fuckin’ music.” Biting down on your earlobe - just a little punishment, “What were you sayin’?”

“Ngh- f-fuck-” you moan, clit catching on the curves and dips of his muscles, rippling as he bounces you faster in time with your slutty lil’ movements. “Only for ngh- you.”

Voice such a low purr in your ear now, “Who?”

“Y-you, Kuna-”

“Yeahhhh, fuck.” he grunts, angling his head just right to better take in the fucking heavenly view. Back arching, swollen folds spread so shamefully as you hump him like some bitch in heat. Making such a mess all over his thigh tattoo in a way that makes Sukuna so fucking glad he got it. “S’exactly what I like to hear.”

And God, he didn’t even have to tell you for you to realize. Because you could feel the way his rock-hard cock jumps against his boxers - so rock-hard and pressing up against your ass in a damp patch.

One hand tightening around your throat, the other dipping below to draw urgent, messy little circles on your clit. Over and over.

You dare to crack an eye open and look at the room around you, hips still grinding down so pathetically on his thigh. Clenching down so hard on nothing as you wonder how someone - anyone - could see the two of you and-

“Oi, look at me, brat.” he’s tugging your head up to his again. Hands getting more erratic - like he wanted to distract you from anything but him him him. “Focus on me. On how fucking good this pretty pussy is feeling.”

As if you could do anything but.

Bucking softly into his angry erection, causing Sukuna to let out a low, drawn-out hiss. “Evil lil’ thing.” he drags his lips down your sensitive neck. Pulling your hips harder against that tattoo. “Guess it ngh- makes sense though because…” you blink up tearily at him as he trails off. Barely noticing the trembling in his fingers, both your rhythms getting so sloppy. Untimed. As rough as the look in Sukuna’s eyes as he whispers, “-because you’re mine.”

And then he spits - right into yout waiting mouth. Once. Twice.

Loud enough that it definitely makes a few stray onlookers glance, faces immediately burning at the sight of Sukuna kissing you. Just a messy clash of lips and teeth and tears.

Tears as you cum with a strangled gasp, drunk up so greedily by Sukuna as you squirt all over his thigh. So fucking messy. Seeping into his pants, all the way down to the couch below, but especially his tattoo. That ring of ink soaked in your juices - right where Sukuna wanted.

And if you were in any better state of mind you’d have been embarrassed - shy, even.

Instead, you’re glancing down at the way his thigh was glistening in the dim light, delicate strings of slick snapping as you lean back closer.

“Don’t you have- hah- the same tattoo on your cock, too, Kuna?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sweeter this way

“Such a filthy cunt on my sweet, sweet girl.” Gojo has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh - at how breathless and fucked out you were on top of him already. “C’mon, what ngh- happened to taking control?”

Ah, right - you bat your lashes lazily, blinking away the tears in your eyes to be met with that fucking smug smirk on your boyfriend’s face. So much for taking control tonight.

“Y-you’re a ngh- cheater, Toru.” you hiss, but you can’t stop your hips from grinding down so pathetically to meet with his rough pace. Jolting every time his leaking tip hit that one spot. “It was s’pposed to be hah- m-my turn to take charge.”

And oh how you had the strongest whining underneath you, two big arms looping around your waist to pull you against his toned chest.

“But, sweetheart~” Craning his neck to graze his lips against your bruised ones - so fleeting, gentle. Exactly what his hips weren’t. “Isn’t it s-so much sweeter this way?”

You don’t know what it is about it - maybe at the dangerous little tone dripping from Gojo’s words. Maybe at the way each one was punctured by a messy, harsh thrust into your tight pussy. But it has shivers running down your spine - all the way to your bulging cunt, so stuffed and ravaged by his cock.

Words a bit more breathless than you’d have liked as you mutter, “W-what do you oh fuck- Toru. What do you mean ‘sweet’?”

The only response you get is one hand pushing the hair out of his eyes, the other just bruising on your hips. Pulling you up, up, up on Gojo’s swollen cock like you were weightless, the arms in his biceps rippling when Gojo slams you down. Hard.

Toned pelvis hitting your ass as he rams his cock into you. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“M’gonna show ya.” he grins, free hand roling your poor clit between two fingers. “Gonna show ya how much sweeter fuck-” Gojo’s eyes fly open as you clench so hard around him. On purpose - a warning. “Hah, feisty. But just you wait. M’gonna show ya.”

Having you feeling more and more like some curse he’s out to vanquish with the way he’s fucking you so merciless.

“Merciless?” Gojo cocks his head in a way that almost makes you forget to realize that oh, shit you said that out loud. “Mhm, sure did.” he hums, in a tone that was way too proud of himself. “N’ you h-haven’t even seen the ngh- best of it.”

You were getting impatient now - and so was Gojo.

For all his talk, letting you grind your hips down to meet his rough cadence. So difficult with the way the man was getting impossibly faster. Sloppier.

The look in his eyes is so feral. His hands so unforgiving, pushing your knees further apart. So erratic on your clit, drawing quick, messy little patterns in a way that has you wondering whether this is more for you or himself.

He’s whispering, like a mantra now. “Gonna show ya- gonna show hah- fuck- m’gonna.” Running only on this and the way you were sucking him up so obscenely. Clit throbbing so fast under his thumb in a way he knew that it was about to be- “Now.”

As if on command, you cum. And not just any orgasm - no, when Gojo Satoru is out to prove a point, he will prove it five times over. Which is why he has you squirting like such a slut all over his rock-hard cock.

“Oh- f-oh my god. Toru!”

Gojo’s own orgasm just a quick, sharp spike of pleasure, coating your puffy walls an obscene white before he’s pushing your limp body further back to get a better view and shit-

That only has you gushing around him harder. So animalistically. Dick twitching wildly at the slick glistening all over Gojo’s abs, dribbling down, down, down to those tufts of white at his base. Some reaching his parted lips, and fuck if Gojo can stop himself from running his tongue along them.

Running a finger at the lewd pool on his abs before bringing them up to his mouth, “Oh, baby.” Eyes half-lidded, miles away yet still boring right into yours as he licks up his dripping wet index with a lewd groan. Pooling your sinful juices on his tongue. Heady. Addictive. “See? Sweeter this way.”

Your jaw drops into a soft oh! as Gojo pulls away with a lewd pop! looking like it fucking killed him to do so.

Strings of slick connecting to those pretty pink lips, snapping ever so slightly as he murmurs a dark, “Wonder if it’ll be twice as sweet if I cum twice in your pretty pussy, hm?”

A/N. Hope y’all have a good day.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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cumironi · 2 months ago

Text

‘ SSSHH, BEWARE OF THE FOOTSTEPS！

feat. gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, shiu

𖧷 sum. “ssshh, keep quiet,” they moan in your ear, breath burning your skin despite the cool air of the night. sēx outside can be very tricky, but. . . getting caught or not, it’s up to you: whether you can’t keep your moán to yourself or. . . not.

warning. outdoors/public space, exhibitionism, dōuble-penetration ( sukuna ), petnames, overstim, praises, name-calling, choke(s), under influence ( gojo, all consent ), dirty talk, spank(s).

＃ GOJO SATORU

your giggles grow louder rhythm along the way you bounce on gojo’s thick cock, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. the alcohol has loosened your inhibitions, allowing you to be more carefree and playful in your lovemaking. “baby...” you whimper, grinding down on him harder as you ride his lap. your wet cunt clings tightly to his shaft, the heat, and tightness driving him wild.

“you’re such a naughty girl, always begging for more of my cock,” gojo teases, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. his blue eyes sparkle with mischief and arousal, drowsy from alcohol. “i think ’m going to have to punish you for being such a bad girl. you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

gojo grins at you, crocked, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, his massive cock stretching your cunt to its limits. “yeah, looks like i’ve got a little slut on my hands,” he says, his voice low and husky with desire. “a filthy girl who can’t control herself around me.”

he lifts your skirt higher, exposing more of your ass as he slaps it hard, the sound echoing through the quiet yard. “this is what happens when you’re a bad girl, sweetheart. you get punished.” gojo thrusts up into you again, his length hitting deep inside your womb. “and right now, i’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

you laugh before a sharp cry escapes your lips the second gojo’s palm— big and cold— connects with your ass, the stinging sensation mingling with the intense pleasure from his relentless pounding. your cunt clenches around his thick cock, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

“you are so silly,” you cringed between your giggles, bracing yourself against his chest as you continue to ride him wildly. the combination of the cool evening air, the warmth of his body beneath you, and the intoxicating liquor coursing through your veins has you lost in a haze of lust and euphoria.

“sshh, we should be quiet,” you whisper, again, giggling, your voice breathless and desperate between the laugh. nails dig into his shoulders as you grind down onto him, seeking that perfect angle to make you come undone. gojo chuckles darkly at your whispered plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. “shh, yeah, keep quiet, baby,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear. “we don’t want anyone hearing how loud and dirty this little slut is getting fucked out here.”

his words send a tingling, flames of stars from your shoulder straight to your cunt, and you bite your lip to stifle another giggle. gojo’s cock is so deep inside you, stroking that sensitive spot within your core with every powerful thrust. you can feel his balls slapping against your cunt, adding to the overwhelming sensations crashing through your body.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” gojo groans, his face contorting in pleasure. “i can feel your cunt squeezing me like a vice. you love my big dick, don’t you?” your legs tremble as gojo’s thick cock stretches and fills you completely, the pleasure bordering on pain as he hits that sweet spot deep within your core over and over. you throw your head back, your long hair cascading down your back as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“your mom and dad might see us,” you declare between the giggle instead of answering, warm breath fanning your boyfriend’s face the minute you lean closer. the mix of the rough grass beneath you, the cool night air, and gojo’s searing heat enveloping— a dangerous mix of cocktails of lust and pleasure that sends you spiraling out of your mind.

gojo smirks up at you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with lust and mischief. “let ’em watch,” he says, his voice low and husky. “they already know i’m a perverted bastard. nothing new there. they know better than to disturb me when i’m fucking their daughter-in-law.” he grips your hips harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he drives upward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping pussy. “fuuuck, you feel amazing,” gojo groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure. “i could cum inside you right now, fill this naughty girl up with my seed.”

his words send a jolt of excitement through you, and you begin to move faster, riding him with reckless abandon. the thought of gojo marking you, claiming you as his, pushes you closer to the edge. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the yard, punctuated by your high-pitched moans, giggle and gasps.

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue plundering yours as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. gojo breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, baby? i can feel your pussy twitching around my cock.”

# GETO SUGURU

gasps sharply as geto’s thick cock plunges deep inside you, your body jolting against the cold metal railing. you bite your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan at the intense sensation of being taken so roughly out here in the open air. “sh-shh...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “fuck— sugu’ be quiet,” just a second, you glare at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

fingers curling around the rusty, dirty balcony fence tighter, your knuckles turning white as he pounds into you relentlessly. the force of each thrust makes my breasts bounce and rub against the rough fabric of his shirt that you wear. you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft stretching you wide, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“oh god— baby,” breathe out, your words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. “hah! look who’s talking tough now,” geto chuckles lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust. he is not even bothering to keep his voice down as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his mission is only one : make the stupid neighbors stop flirting with you.

“you’re the one making all those cute little noises,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “i bet they can hear you moaning all the way down the hall. ’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he growls, “and i’m going to keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

geto reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of the shirt. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, meannn, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your cunt. the action earn a choked whimper escapes your throat at the cruel twist of your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. geto’s pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. the balcony’s fence creaks ominously under the force of your coupling, but he shows no signs of slowing down. “come on doll, scream for me,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless out here.”

your pussy clenches tightly around geto’s thick cock, milking him as he continues to ravage you with wild abandon. “ah-ahh! s-suguuuu’!” you cry out, unable to contain yourself any longer. the rough treatment of your sensitive nub, combined with the relentless pounding of his shaft, pushes you precariously close to the edge.

geto’s mocking words only fuel the fire within you, igniting a dark, primal desire that demands release. as he grips your hip harder, pulling you back onto him with bruising force, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensations. “hhn! oh f-fuck, s-shouldd- quiet,” you wail, your voice rising to a desperate keen, whispering like a mantra to yourself.

geto grins wickedly, pleased by your desperate attempts to stifle your cries. however, he clearly has no intention of letting up anytime soon. “that’s right, let it out,” he encourages, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “moan for me, doll. show everyone how much you love getting fucked raw by your boyfriend out in the open.”

he punctuates his words with another vicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. the obscene squelch of skin meeting skin echoes loudly across the balcony, mingling with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the railing beneath you. geto leans in close, his lips hovering mere inches from your ear as he whispers, “come on, i know you can be louder than that,” his breath burning, spit all the pleasure with his dirty talk. “show me how much you love getting fucked in public. let everyone know who’s making you cum so hard.”

you can tell geto was loving seeing you struggle to hold back your moans. he continued to push deeper and faster into your wet heat, stretching your walls around his thickness with every powerful stroke. his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he used your body for his own pleasure— and his punching-jealosy bag. you could feel the veins in his cock pulsing against your inner walls, throbbing with need.

a strangled sob tears from your throat as geto’s words wash over you, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through your last vestiges of restraint. the shameless, public nature of your tryst, coupled with the unrelenting assault on your senses, finally shatters the fragile barrier holding back your climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you shriek, your voice a raw, guttural cry that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the building. your body convulses violently, back arching as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. your pussy clamps down around geto’s pistoning cock like a vice, rhythmically milking him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. the sheer intensity of your release leaves you gasping and twitching, utterly spent.

# TOJI FUSHIGURO

breathless moans escape your lips as toji pounds into you relentlessly, the bamboo walls creaking with each powerful thrust. the sound of waves crashing outside mingles with your ragged panting, creating an erotic symphony.

“mm— baby. .” you gasp, your hands bracing against the rough bamboo as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock each time while you, uncontrollably desperate to keep your mouth shut from spreading the moan and sin to everyone around— there are children around for fuck sake. the cool ocean breeze wafts through the open ceiling of the structure, sending shivers down your spine even as your body burns with desire. your clit throbs in time with toji’s sleepless strokes.

“shhh... i gotchu, ma,” toji whispers huskily in your ear, feeling your body tremble beneath him. he tightens his grip on your hips, fucking you harder, faster, driven by lust and the thrill of getting caught. the thought of someone discovering them sends a dark thrill through him. leaning over your shoulder, he nips at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks making a sharp cry tears from your throat as toji bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. his free hand snakes around to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you closer to the land of climax and pleasure just for a second. “gonna fill this tight pussy up, ma,” he growls, his voice low and rough with arousal.

the pain only heightens your pleasure, making your inner walls clench greedily around his pistoning cock. the bamboo structure creaks ominously under your frenzied coupling, but toji doesn’t care. all that matters is claiming you right here, right now, consequences be damned. you whimper, your head thrown back against his chest as he assaults your sensitive flesh with his fingers and mouth. the knowledge that you are so close to being discovered only fuels the fire raging within you.

your hips buck wildly, meeting each of toji’s powerful thrusts as he drives into you with primal intensity. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the small, tiny, wee space, mingling with your ragged breathing and toji’s guttural grunts. toji’s arms snake around your slippery skin for the nth time, to press firmly against your belly, encouraging you to arch into him, to meet his thrusts head-on— bend your stomach deeper into the bulge of his thick cock that peeks at your abandonment.

“fuck yeah— come on ma, i know you can do it,” toji snarls, pounding into you with reckless abandon. he can feel your body starting to tighten around him, and it spurs him on. he wants to push you over the edge, make you scream his name for all to hear. fingers dancing lower, he roughly pinches your clit, rubbing it between his fingers in harsh, rapid circles. at the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “gonna cum so deep inside you, mark you as mine. everyone will know who you belong to.”

# RYOMEN SUKUNA

whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being filled so completely by sukuna’s enormous cocks. tears continue to stream down your cheeks— struggle to even do as much as catch your breath, each thrust sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through you.

# NANAMI KENTO

panting heavily, i manage a weak, “my lord. .” your voice is barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and sukuna’s lewd grunts of satisfaction. his twice or three times bigger mouth on his stomach lick the small of your back— it smirks, your cunt can feel it.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your feeble attempt to address him properly, his four arms gripping you tighter as he pounds into you relentlessly. the tongue on his stomach licks up your spine, leaving a trail of saliva that tingles on your sensitive skin. his upper pair of hands reach around to grasp your breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he fucks you harder. the third hand slides down to rub your clit, making sure to hit that sweet spot with every stroke.

“foolish mortal,” he sneers, his voice low and menacing. “you should be grateful i deign to use you for my pleasure. your pitiful cries only spur me on.” one of his hands slides around to fondle your breast roughly, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers. his other hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, forcing your body to respond despite your mind’s protests.

cries out sharply as sukuna tweaks your nipple, the sudden jolt of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure from his cocks and touch. “ah! m-my lord, please...” your hips buck involuntarily, meeting his thrusts as his skilled hands work to push you closer to the edge. “this is— too much, i-i can’t...”

trembling, you clench around the thick cocks stretching your inner walls, desperate for some respite but knowing it won’t come anytime soon. “just- just give me a moment, i need...” your eyes hooded, half-heartedly open and find the open garden surrounded you, few of his servants passed by— yet, despite them didn’t have enough the courage to look directly, the voice of skin roughly kiss, your desperate-slutty moan, and sukuna’s rough grumble was obvious.

sobbing quietly, you try to gather your fragmented thoughts, dreading what further degradation or humiliation sukuna might inflict upon you once he’s finished using your body for his twisted amusement. sukuna laughs cruelly at your pleas, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “a moment? how quaint. you think you have control over this?”

instead, he speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of his cocks pistoning in and out of you growing louder. the tongue on his stomach slithers up to your ear, licking the shell before whispering, “i think you need to learn your place, silly mortal. and if begging for mercy is what it takes...”

his fourth arm moves to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “perhaps a little choking will help you focus on the present. now, beg properly. beg me to let you cum, to grant you this fleeting pleasure.”

the hand on your clit intensifies its ministrations, rubbing circles that send sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. with that, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his cocks deep inside you with brutal force. the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the garden, mingling with your choked sobs and the occasional gasp from passing servants who can’t help but steal glances at the depraved scene.

the servant who dared to glance your way quickly looks away, not wanting to meet sukuna’s wrathful gaze. they all know better than to disturb their master when he’s indulging in such carnal pleasures. sukuna tightens his grip around your throat slightly, his smirk growing wider as he watches the effect it has on you. he leans in close, his hot breath washing over your ear as he whispers, “look at them, pet. can you see how they’re staring? envious of the privilege i’m granting you, of the pleasure you get to experience at my hands.”

his fingers dig into your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges. “they wish they could be in your position right now, don’t they? wishing they could feel my cocks inside them, wishing they could hear their own desperate moans echoing through the garden.”

your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen as sukuna tightens his grip around your throat. panic sets in as you claw at his wrist, desperate for air. he chuckles darkly, amused by your struggles. just as you're about to pass out, sukuna releases his hold, allowing you to gulp in a ragged breath. he watches with perverse fascination as you tremble and wheeze, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of his relentless pounding.

sukuna’s hand on your clit becomes a blur of motion, rubbing and pinching in a relentless rhythm designed to drive you to the brink of insanity.

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he rocks into you slowly. his voice is low and husky, filled with desire even as he tries to keep things discreet. with his other hand, he gently cup your cheek, tilting your face up towards him, thumb brushing across your lips as he tries to silence your pleasured moans. “shh, my love... i know it feels amazing, but we need to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing here.”

his brown eyes filled with adoration and lust, blend like a mix of cocktails under the dim blue and purple bar lights. “i want to hear you, but not like this. let me take care of you when we get home, okay? right now, just relax for me...” he punctuates his words with a deep, slow thrust, making you gasp despite yourself. his deep voice is a soothing whisper against your ear as he rocks his hips. one after another while keeping his hard length buried within your cunt. “just focus on how good i make you feel, okay? let me take care of everything.”

your body shudders at the intensity of his words, his touch igniting sparks that race through your veins. you nod frantically, unable to form coherent responses over the crescendo of pleasure building inside you. instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling into his warmth as you cling to him desperately.

your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure against your sensitive clit. you can’t help the whimpers that escape, muffled against his skin, as he continues to stroke that perfect spot deep within you. each deliberate thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you whole and drowning you all the way.

desperate to stifle the sounds of your desperation, you press your mouth to his throat, sucking gently on the pulse point there. the subtle pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. the sound of music and everyone push painfully far away to the back of your head, and everything becomes grey with how much the sounds of nanami’s breathing kissing your ear. all warm, soft and just him. “baby..”

he inhales sharply as you suck on his throat, the sudden rush of sensation sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. his grip on you tightens reflexively, fingers digging into your hip bones as he struggles to maintain control. the urge to claim you harder, faster, more forcefully is almost overwhelming, but he resists, determined to please you rather than succumb to base instinct.

with a herculean effort, he steadies his movements, focusing on long, slow strokes designed to stretch and fill you without jarring you against the seat or drawing unwanted attention. he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your ear as he fights to hold back his own climax. “my love... the love of my life,” he breathes, the endearment barely audible over the thumping bass.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through every fiber of your being, you can only whimper and tremble in nanami’s arms. the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of his body enveloping yours, the sweet ache of his fingers digging into your flesh— it all blends together into an exquisite symphony of pleasure.

it was painfully slow, but when he was sensing your impending release, nanami’s hands begin to roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest on your thighs. he spreads them wider, angling his hips to hit that magical spot inside you with precision. the added pressure sends you spiraling toward the edge, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his thick length.

nanami’s eyes darken with lust as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, your body tensing and trembling in his grasp. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing the desperate little noises you make. his tongue dances with yours, matching the rhythm of the loud music, alsooo, mirroring the rhythm of his hips as he continues to stroke into you, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

# SHIU KONG

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking marks into your tender skin. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice heavy with desire. “i could look at you forever.” his hands slide higher, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. he thumbs your nipples, coaxing them to hardness as he teases and plucks at the sensitive buds.

breathless, eyes wide with excitement and guilt as you look around at your secluded spot amidst the bamboo forest. gasp as another wave of pleasure crashes over you from your thick cock stretching your velvet walls. eyes flustered closed while your fingers curled up, wrapping the fabric of his suit around.

“fuck, it feels so good...“ you start moving faster on top of him, riding him harder as the thrill of getting caught only heightens your arousal. you lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as you continue to bounce on his lap, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. “we’re being so naughty out here in the open... what if someone walks by and catches us in the act?” you asked, tone nonchalant so the heartbeat once you pull away.

a low groan escapes shiu’s throat, feels your tight heat gripping his cock tighter with each hard ride. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to fuck yourself on him even deeper— panting heavily, he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“let ’em,” he rasps, his voice husky with desire. “i want everyone to see how badly i’m fucking you right now.” shiu’s fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you down to slam your cunt onto his shaft again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet woods, mixing with your high-pitched moans and his deep growls.

“you’re so goddamn sexy like this,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “riding my dick in public, not giving a damn who sees...” your body trembles as shiu’s words, intensifying the burning need within you. you throw your head back, lost in the ecstasy of being taken so roughly, so publicly. each harsh thrust makes you cry out, your voice carrying through the stillness of the bamboo grove.

“sooo dirty,” you tease between giggling, grinding your clit against him as you impale yourself on his thick cock. your hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples as you continue to ride shiu with wild abandon. leaning down, you capture his lips once more, kissing him deeply as you move, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

shiu meets your fervent kisses with equal passion, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devours you whole. his large hands roam your curves, squeezing and kneading your supple flesh as he drinks in every moan and whimper that spills from your lips. few seconds and he breaking the kiss to trails his mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “mmm, such a naughty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with approval. “wants to get caught, huh? wants everyone to know you’re mine.”

shiu’s fingers find their way beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming up your stomach to pinch and roll your hardened nipples. he watches intently as you writhe above him, your breasts bouncing with each frenzied movement. one hand leaves your hip to palm your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath to tease the hardened bud directly. you let out a sharp gasp as shiu’s skilled fingers play with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“mmm, feel that, doll?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “your tits are so sensitive, i bet they’d be perfect for my mouth.” the sensation of his warm breath on your skin and his filthy words make you ache for more. “please!” you beg, arching your back to push your chest further into his touch.

with a wicked grin, shiu pulls your shirt up and off, revealing your heaving breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze. he wastes no time, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

you moan loudly, head thrown back in bliss as he lavishes attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers. shiu releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and swollen. he gazes up at you with dark, lustful eyes, his own chest heaving with exertion.

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire. “make some noise for me. let everyone know how much you love having my cock buried deep inside you.” he punctuates his words with a particularly forceful thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. shiu grins, pleased with himself.

leaning forward, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you’re squirming and mewling above him. his free hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower to rub at your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?”

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