#tidy the mess i left the night before

[twilightakiishi]

tell me what your morning/nighttime routine is, if you have one

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[mrspiastri]

✩ babbles and first words 🍼

pairing: lando norris x reader

cw: fluff, early parenthood, small fights, and baby fever warnings

wc: 3.6k words

an: wanted to write a second part to this, :)) ty for the req idea @cabbagescorp

The newborn months came in like a storm. Everyone had told them it would be hard: the books, the classes, the friends who’d already been through it. But no one could quite prepare them for the bleary-eyed, bone-deep kind of exhaustion that settled into their bodies during those first few weeks after Sophie was born.

She was beautiful. Perfect and endlessly fascinating. But she also didn’t sleep longer than ninety minutes at a time. Ever. Not in the middle of the night. Not during the day. Not in the car or the stroller or the bouncer that Y/N had read 1,200 glowing reviews about.

The house took on a strange rhythm. Day and night bled into each other until Y/N couldn’t remember what the sun looked like. Their once-tidy kitchen table was now a battlefield of bottles, burp cloths, and half-drunk mugs of tea. And Lando, usually composed, had dark circles under his eyes and milk stains on every single hoodie he owned.

Sophie cried constantly. And sometimes she screamed. The kind of scream that pierced through walls, through nerves, through reason.

It was one night, maybe around week five, that it happened.

Y/N stood in the nursery, swaying on tired legs, holding Sophie against her shoulder as she sobbed inconsolably into her mum’s collarbone. It was three in the morning. Again. The third night in a row where Sophie hadn’t slept more than forty minutes in one stretch.

Lando came in, moving slowly, eyes half-shut, hair a mess.

“Let me take her,” he said, reaching for the baby.

“No, I’ve got her,” Y/N muttered. “She just needs a few more minutes.”

“She’s been screaming for over an hour,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Maybe she’s hungry again.”

“She’s not. I fed her already.”

“But maybe she’s still hungry.”

Y/N turned sharply. “I said she’s not.”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay. Sorry.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “I just… I’ve been trying. She was calm for a bit. Then she just started again.”

“I know. I’m just saying maybe she needs something else. We could try a bath? Or maybe her reflux is acting up—”

“She’s not broken, Lando.”

“I didn’t say she was!” He snapped.

“You’re acting like everything I do isn’t enough!” Y/N’s voice cracked, and Sophie whimpered louder, reacting to the tension.

Lando stepped back, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been up with her every night too, Y/N. I’m trying just as hard as you.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting tears. “Well, maybe your best isn’t working either.”

The words fell between them like glass shattering.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of Sophie’s cries.

Lando looked away first, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to take a walk,” he said quietly, and left the room.

Y/N sat down in the rocking chair, heart pounding, shame and frustration rising in equal parts as Sophie cried against her chest. She rocked slowly and gently, whispering little nothings, but her own tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She hated fighting with him. She hated feeling helpless. And most of all, she hated that she couldn’t make Sophie feel better, no matter how hard she tried.

It was twenty minutes later when Lando returned, his eyes a little clearer, a warm towel in one hand and a bottle in the other.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Y/N blinked, surprised.

He knelt beside her, gently brushing Sophie’s back with his knuckles. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m just tired. We both are.”

She nodded, her throat tight. “Me too.”

He shifted closer, placing the warm towel across Sophie’s back. “I passed the mirror in the hallway,” he said, half-smiling. “I look like I’ve been dragged through four tornadoes.”

Y/N let out a tired laugh. “You do.”

Lando looked up at her then, and his eyes softened. “You don’t. You look like her mum. Which is to say, kind of amazing.”

They didn’t say anything else for a while. Just sat there, close together, as Sophie slowly began to calm in the warmth of their shared presence.

Eventually, they managed to get her down in the bassinet, asleep at last, her fists curled like she was dreaming of clouds.

They curled into bed together, not even changing out of their worn clothes. Lando wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head.

“We’re going to figure it out,” he whispered into the dark.

“We’re already doing it,” she whispered back.

In the months that followed, things didn’t get easier overnight, but they got better.

Sophie learnt to smile first. A gummy, glorious smile that came one random afternoon when Y/N was bouncing her on the couch and Lando made a ridiculous noise.

Then, she started crawling, flipping onto her stomach and determinedly moving towards her parents. She was everything but calm, much like her dad.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, folding a small mountain of tiny onesies and baby socks. She was humming under her breath, watching Sophie out of the corner of her eye. Their daughter, now just shy of eleven months, had pulled herself up to stand using the edge of the couch and was gripping the fabric like it was the most important thing in the world.

She’d been doing that a lot lately, pulling herself up, cruising cautiously along the furniture, standing in place and squealing with excitement when she managed to balance for a few seconds .

Y/N had seen the signs. She knew they were close.

Still, she didn’t expect it to happen today.

Sophie let go of the couch for a brief second and clapped her hands together, giggling at her own bravery. Then she plopped back down onto her diaper-padded bum and crawled in that odd, determined way babies have toward their mum.

“Hi, my love,” Y/N murmured, reaching out to brush a curl from Sophie’s forehead. “Tired of standing?”

Sophie replied with a babble that sounded like “mamamamama” and shoved a stuffed elephant in her face.

Y/N smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

Ten minutes later, Lando wandered in from the kitchen, sipping a smoothie and wearing the same hoodie his daughter had coloured up with marker three days ago. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he looked freshly awake, despite the ever-present exhaustion that hung around both of them like fog.

“Everything alright in here?” he asked, setting the cup on the table.

Y/N nodded. “We’re doing laundry and watching a nursery rhymes video compilation.”

“Of course. Essential for child development,” he said seriously, then grinned and flopped down onto the floor beside her, long legs splayed out in front of him.

Sophie perked up immediately, crawling toward her dad like he was made of light. He scooped her up and blew a raspberry on her neck, earning a shriek of laughter.

Then he set her down again, sitting upright just a few feet away from her. She wobbled on her knees, looking at him, then at Y/N, then back at him.

And then, she stood. Just a baby standing in the middle of the living room like it was nothing.

Y/N gasped, clutching Lando’s arm. “Oh my God.”

“Shhh, shh—don’t move,” he whispered, frozen in place.

Sophie stood there for a moment, uncertain. Her arms flailed for balance. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as she concentrated hard, brows furrowed, curls bouncing ever so slightly with her tiny tremble.

Then she took one step.

A pause. A squeal.

Then another.

And another.

Three whole steps; wobbly, wide-legged, magical, until she lost her balance and fell forward right into Lando’s lap.

The house exploded in joy.

Y/N covered her mouth, eyes wide and wet with sudden tears. Lando scooped Sophie up and twirled her in the air, both of them laughing.

“You did it! You did it, baby girl!” he shouted, grinning like a man who’d just witnessed a miracle.

Sophie giggled and clapped, clearly thrilled with herself, before immediately trying to wriggle free and do it again.

Y/N was already grabbing her phone, fumbling to open the camera. “She just walked. She walked, Lando.”

“I know,” he said, pulling Y/N into his arms with Sophie still wedged between them. “I saw it. I saw all of it.”

They sank back down onto the floor, tangled together in a heap of limbs and joy, with Sophie babbling and bouncing excitedly between them, clearly not understanding why her parents looked like they were about to cry and laugh and scream all at once.

🪻🪻🪻

Sophia, now officially Sophie to just about everyone, was toddling unsteadily across the living room floor in a onesie decorated with tiny orange ducks, her hair sticking up in gravity-defying wisps from the post-nap haze. She had one sock on, one sock off, and a plastic spoon clutched victoriously in one chubby fist. Her steps were wobbly, like a baby deer on a trampoline, but she was determined, charging toward Lando with the serious, dramatic focus only a ten-month-old could muster.

“Dadaaa,” she announced proudly as she stumbled into his legs, clinging to his jeans for dear life.

Lando, who had been kneeling beside the coffee table attempting to fix one of her musical toys, immediately dropped everything. His face lit up like it was Christmas morning. “Yes! That’s me! Dada is me!”

Sophia beamed up at him, cheeks flushed pink, drool glistening on her chin like it was the most fashionable accessory around.

“She said it again,” Lando said over his shoulder, looking toward the kitchen with wide eyes. “Did you hear her?”

Y/N was watching from the doorway, sipping a lukewarm coffee with the softest smile. “She’s said it four times this morning, babe.”

“Yeah, but this one felt really intentional. Like she really knew what she was saying.” He scooped Sophie up and kissed her cheeks noisily, making her giggle. “You said your first word! Again!”

“She also said ‘duck’ yesterday,” Y/N pointed out gently.

“Okay, yeah, but that isn’t as important.”

“You’re such a loser sometimes.”

Lando ignored that, because Sophie was now squishing his cheeks with her little hands and making high-pitched babbling noises that sounded vaguely like a monologue in an alien language.

“Oh my God,” he whispered dramatically. “It’s like she’s giving a TED Talk. It’s so cute.”

“Pretty sure she’s just asking for another biscuit.”

“Then I will give her ten biscuits. She deserves a whole bakery.”

Sophia let out a squeal of joy, flailing in his arms, which made Lando panic and adjust his grip like he thought she might catapult herself into orbit. Y/N walked over and plucked the baby spoon from Sophie’s tiny hand.

“What was she doing with this anyway?”

“No idea. She found it in the toy box and made it her mission,” Lando replied solemnly.

Y/N reached over to push Sophia’s flyaway curls back, then leaned in to kiss Lando’s temple. “You’re kind of the best dad, you know that?”

Lando turned his head to her, eyes softening. “I’m just trying to keep up. You’re the reason she’s this happy and fearless.”

Sophie, clearly sensing a quiet moment, seized the opportunity to dramatically gurgle into the space between them, startling both of them.

Lando grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Later that evening, after dinner (and an incident involving a sippy cup being hurled like a missile), Sophie was freshly bathed and wrapped in her favourite towel, a yellow one with a duck hood. She toddled around the nursery while Y/N tried to wrangle her into pyjamas, and Lando readied the bedtime book.

“Okay, duckling,” Y/N said, finally catching her and landing her on the changing table. “Pyjamas now. Please. For the love of sleep.”

Sophie responded by sticking her tongue out, giggling, and patting her own belly like it was a drum.

Lando peeked in, book in hand. “Did she do the belly thing again?”

“She did.”

He put a hand over his heart. “It kills me every time.”

When Sophie was finally zipped into her sleeper and snuggled in Lando’s lap, he read Goodnight Moon for the sixth time that week, complete with ridiculous voices and dramatic pauses that made her giggle and babble back. Y/N sat beside them on the rug, just watching the two of them. Lando’s hand cradled her little foot absentmindedly as he read, and every once in a while, he’d look at her like he still couldn’t believe she was real.

After the last page, Sophie blinked slowly and leaned her head against his chest, fighting sleep with all the might of a baby who didn’t want to miss a single thing.

“You can close your eyes,” Lando whispered. “We’re right here.”

And eventually, she did.

🪻🪻🪻

It was just past ten in the morning when Max arrived at the front door, looking only mildly panicked and about five per cent more rumpled than usual. He had his 14-month-old, Lily, in his arms, dressed in a soft lilac onesie and a matching knit hat that was slightly askew from her latest nap.

Y/N opened the door with a warm smile, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. Lando was just behind her, cradling Sophie on his hip.

“Thanks again for this,” Max said, shifting Lily a little higher against his chest. “Just a few hours. I’ve got a team meeting, and no one else could cover.”

“Of course,” Y/N said easily. “We’re happy to have her.”

Sophie perked up at the sight of another baby, eyes wide with curiosity as she leaned forward against Lando’s shoulder.

Lando chuckled. “I think Sophie’s already interested.”

Max handed Lily over with gentle hesitation, his hand lingering an extra beat. “She might cry when she realises I’m not around. Or she might not notice at all and just betray me completely. Either way, I’m preparing emotionally.”

“She’ll be fine,” Y/N reassured him, already bouncing Lily lightly on her hip. “Go. We’ve got this.”

Max looked between the three of them once more, nodded, and left.

The door closed, and the quiet lasted only a second before both babies locked eyes. Sophie, now seated on the living room rug surrounded by soft toys, blinked a few times at Lily as if trying to figure her out. Lily, laid gently next to her, looked just as curious. After a beat of silent baby inspection, Lily made the first move — a slow, uncoordinated reach that resulted in her hand landing directly on Sophie’s foot.

Sophie gasped dramatically, then let out a delighted giggle that sounded more like a hiccup. Lily responded with a squeal, and just like that, the two of them were babbling back and forth in completely incomprehensible but deeply enthusiastic tones.

“They’re talking,” Lando said quietly, crouched beside Y/N as they watched from the couch.

“They’re definitely talking,” Y/N agreed. “About what? I have no idea.”

The babies leaned toward each other, noses almost touching. Sophie gently smacked her palm against Lily’s knee, which made Lily let out a burst of laughter that sent her toppling sideways into a plush elephant. Unbothered, she flailed her limbs in what looked like applause.

Sophie squeaked and followed, rolling closer until they were lying side by side, cheeks squished together, giggling at absolutely nothing.

They spent the next hour like that, with Sophie and Lily crawling around the room like tiny adventurers. Sophie shared her favourite musical lion toy by dropping it gently into Lily’s lap, then immediately snatching it back with a suspicious look before offering it again, a bit more slowly.

Lily babbled in return, cheeks round and dimpled, her feet kicking like she was composing a song with just enthusiasm.

When it was time for their bottles, they sat side by side in their respective baby chairs, both swaddled in tiny blankets, clutching their bottles with both hands and occasionally turning their heads toward each other, eyes wide and sparkling.

Lando fed Sophie while Y/N gently helped Lily, and every so often, Sophie would stop drinking to let out a string of sleepy nonsense that Lily would match with a soft coo or blink.

By the time Max returned, both girls were asleep on the rug, lying opposite each other like a mirrored set. Sophie’s arm was flopped across Lily’s leg, and Lily had one fist curled loosely around the corner of Sophie’s blanket.

“They napped?” Max whispered in disbelief.

“They played. Then they conked out mid-conversation,” Lando replied, just as quietly.

Max crouched beside them, his eyes softening immediately. “Look at them.”

Y/N handed him a photo she had taken on her phone. “Don’t worry; we documented everything.”

He laughed under his breath, staring at the photo like it might be his new lock screen. “First playdate ever?”

“And a very successful one,” she said.

Max looked down at the sleeping babies again, Lily’s tiny nose brushing against Sophie’s knee, and smiled.

“Looks like they’re already ahead of us.”

🪻🪻🪻

The house was still and quiet in the soft blue hour of the morning, the kind of quiet that only existed before a party. Down the hallway, the nursery remained peaceful, Sophie still curled up in her sleep sack with her plush duck tucked under one arm.

Y/N stirred when she felt Lando gently tap her shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered, crouched beside the bed, already dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair unbrushed but eyes bright. “Come with me. Just for a second.”

She blinked, confused, then glanced at the clock. “It’s barely six.”

“I know. Trust me.”

She groaned lightly but sat up, stretching. “Is this about balloons? Did one pop?”

“No. No balloons. Just come on. You need shoes.”

A few minutes later, wrapped in her favourite cardigan and walking down the back steps into the garden with Lando’s hand in hers, she finally noticed the faint glow of candles flickering under the pergola.

There was a tiny round cake on the patio table, frosted in pale yellow with a single candle lit in the centre. Beside it, a wrapped box with a ribbon sat waiting.

She stopped in her tracks. “Lando…”

He gave her hand a little tug, tugging her closer. “I figured everyone’s going to be looking at Sophie all day, as they should. But before that happens, I wanted to say, Happy one year of being a mum.”

Her breath caught.

“You made it through sleepless nights, teething, pureed carrots in your hair, and a thousand loads of laundry,” he continued. “You sang lullabies at 2am and danced in the kitchen with her when she cried. You became her whole world. I know today’s about Sophie. But I wouldn’t have made it through this year without you.”

Y/N blinked rapidly as she looked at him, then down at the little cake.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said, voice catching.

He smiled softly. “I know. But I wanted to. Because it’s your day too.”

She leaned into him, burying her face into his chest for a second before he pulled back and nudged the box toward her.

“Open it.”

Inside was a necklace; gold, delicate, with a tiny charm in the shape of an ‘S’.

She touched it like it might dissolve under her fingertips. “Lando…”

“You can cry,” he said, grinning a little. “I’ll allow it. Just for today.”

She shook her head, laughing through tears. “I don’t deserve this.”

“I know you deserve more,” he said simply.

They sat together on the garden bench, splitting a slice of cake.

“Happy one year of being a dad, Lando,” she smiled as she leaned closer.

“Wouldn’t be one without you.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Well, if you weren’t so supportive and helpful, I’d be pretty shit at this whole parent thing. So thank you.”

He didn’t respond to her, just smiled and let his gratitude be conveyed through another spoonful of cake he fed her.

Later that morning, the living room slowly filled with the sounds of celebration; balloons tied to every chair, soft toys wrapped in cheerful paper, and family voices echoing through the kitchen.

Sophie, wearing a pale yellow dress with a duck print, sat like a tiny queen in her high chair, clapping her hands as everyone sang. She had cake on her nose and frosting in her curls within ten minutes.

Her grandparents snapped photos from every angle, with Lando and Y/N clapping along with her. Max brought Lily with him, who was equally excited about the cake.

Sophie babbled through it all, saying “Dada” and “Ake” to almost everyone and throwing a burnt-out candle at one point.

And in the middle of it all, Lando and Y/N moved together like they’d been doing this for years, lifting Sophie’s hands to help her clap, swapping bites of cake and little laughs.

At one point, as everyone chatted in the kitchen and Sophie napped upstairs after a long morning of overstimulation, Y/N leaned into Lando where he was sitting on the couch, Lily asleep in his arms now.

“Thank you for this morning,” she said softly. “It meant more than you know.”

He turned his head toward her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “You’ve given me everything. This was the least I could do.”

And when the day was done, and the balloons had deflated slightly, and the kitchen smelt like leftover sugar and fruit, they stood at the doorway of the nursery, watching Sophie sleep with her hands tucked under her chin.

Lando whispered, “One whole year.”

Y/N reached for his hand. “The best one. And only seventeen more to go.”

“Don’t make me cry again!”

baby sophie has my whole heart! a very rare part 2 was necessary!

[readwritealldayallnight]

(18+ MDNI)

As far as roommates go, Simon Riley isn’t a bad one to live with

Rarely in the flat, gone for weeks at a time, you sometimes forgot you even shared the rent with someone when you first moved in

And when he is around, he keeps out of your way, tidies up after himself, will offer to run to the shop when you’re running low on something for tonight’s dinner

All in all, you get along well

Especially after a few months go by, and he starts sinking his cock into you whenever he’s home

Every chance he gets, he’s got your ankles resting over his shoulders, or your legs locked around his waist, or your tits in his mouth, or your ass squeezed between his fingers or your hips against his as he bounces you or-

Once he’s had his first taste, Simon is insatiable, never not fucking you every opportunity he gets

He has you feeling like you’re on top of the world, while simultaneously about to tip over the edge of it at any moment

Your time spent together consists of bursts of pleasure and passion tangled together in a mess of limbs and lips, visions of scars and tattoos clouding your dreams at night

And while these rendezvous consist strictly of an outlet for stress, a means to an end that leaves you both more than satisfied, you can’t help the slowly blossoming feelings growing in your chest that whisper to you that you might mean something more to him, that you might just be something more to Simon

It’s on one such occasion, while Simon is balls deep inside you, about to put an end to his teasing and let you finally cum on his cock, when reality slaps you hard across the face

Your moans and whines, his grunts and gasps, combined with the sounds of skin slapping repeatedly, are nearly loud enough to drown out the ill-fated sound of his cell phone ringing from the pocket of his discarded jeans

“Simon, please! I- I’m so- Si, I’m close, I’m close! I’m gon-” You moan into his ear, ankles locked tight around his waist and fingernails scratching at the exposed skin of his back, pleading with him to deliver you the ecstasy you’ve been promised

Your begging comes to a stop however, when his own movements halt entirely, hips stilling against yours as pauses, looking back into your eyes though his mind is obviously suddenly elsewhere

“What are y-”

“Shh.” He shushes you all too quickly, just in time for the faint ring of his phone to reach both your ears

“Simon, wait. No! Can’t we-”

“That’s gonna be work.” He grunts out, sweaty palms slipping down your thighs towards your calves to try and disentangle himself from you

“So? It can’t wait 60 seconds? We were about to-”

“Doesn’ matter.”

“Are- are you serious right now?” You question, stunned by his reaction. In all the months you and Simon have been falling into bed together, he’s never told you what his work is, and you’ve learned not to ask him anymore

He pays his rent on time and contributes to the grocery runs, how he earns his money hasn’t been any of your business thus far, but it’s certainly never gotten in the way of your escapades before

Simon’s apparently decided he doesn’t need to entertain you with a response, because he’s pulling himself out or your embrace without a word, standing off the bed and pulling his cell out of his haphazardly thrown pants before the ringer ends

“Simon! What kind of job-”

“Alrigh’?” Is all he says into the phone, nodding along momentarily to whoever is on the other line, before he’s affirming something or another and hanging up, tugging his pants back on without so much as a glance back at your naked form sprawled out on the bed in shock

“Simon-”

“See ye when I’m back, birdie.”

And with that, Simon is out of your room, out of the flat, out of your life for who knows how long, a reoccurring event you should have grown used to by now, but never has he left you high and dry like this before

That was the day you learned, as special as you might feel when Simon is grinding against you, caressing your skin and grunting sweet nothings into your ear, you were not Simon’s priority

You would always come second

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[tttabii]

— 심재윤 DEDICATION FOR YOU

JAKE SIM X READER

note: where he has his own instagram. fan!reader x idol! jake. word count : 2363.

YOU WEREN'T NEW TO FANSIGNS.  Living a short subway ride away from the venue made it simpler, but this time somehow felt... different. Maybe it was the white dress you got, simple, flowy, not revealing but just revealing enough to feel a little self-conscious.

Maybe it was the seven hand-made hoodies in your tote bag, customized for each Enhypen member based on every subtle detail you'd picked up over the years. Or, more likely, it was because you were going to see Jake. Again. Your day one bias.

As the line shuffled, your heart raced. And finally, it was your turn.

You took a step and walked up to Jake's table. You gave him the most genuine smile you could muster with how shaky your nerves were at this point. He quickly scanned you—respectfully, but still noticeably—and glanced over you again, his expression softening the second time. 

"Hi," he said in that low, friendly voice. "What's your name?"

"Y/n," you replied as you did a small bow. "I... have been a fan since debut. You've been my bias since day one."  

Jake's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, and you nodded shyly, placing your favorite album in front of him. "This means a lot. Thank you."

As he twisted the cap off the marker, you swallowed a little courage. "Um... Can you sign somewhere else instead?"

He titled his head to one side, looking confused. "Where?"

You reached your arm out a little. "Here."

Jake blinked. "Wait—your arm?"

You nodded. "I want to get it tattooed," you confessed, feeling your cheeks turn hot. "It means a lot to me."

Jake froze, surprised—eyes wide with astonishment, and then softened to something between admiration and awe. "That's... wow. That's real commitment," he said softly. Jake carefully made his way to your arm, always moving at a careful speed. "You're really going to tattoo this?"

"I am," you whispered.Suddenly, there was a blast of wind that rushed through the venue. Hair flew everywhere and stuck to your lip gloss. You cringed, trying to tidy up, embarrassed to look like a mess in front of him.

Jake chuckled a little. "Hey, hey—here." Jake reached for your hair and pushed it behind your ear, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His eyes were focused and kind. You felt like you couldn't breathe for a moment. Somewhere in the crowd your friend tried took a picture with shaking hands. Other fans nearby gasped quietly, a few squeals erupting.

You were flustered beyond compare, but Jake? He was composed. Calm even. As if this moment involved the two of you."There's," he said, smiling, "Much better."

Your time was almost up. You handed him the bag with the hoodies."I made these... for all of you. Custom. I paid attention to your styles."

Jake looked at the bag, then back at you, you could tell he was quite stunned. "You made them?"

You nodded. "Hope you like them."

"Y/n," he said, repeating your name softly like he didn't want to forget. "You're amazing."

You left the table on a cloud, the signed arm, the warmth of his fingers just barely grazing your hair, and how he said your name, played over in your mind like a favourite episode of a drama.

That evening, the fan photos began popping up.Your interaction was everywhere.

That same night, you sat on your bed in a cross-legged position, focused on your phone, and suddenly you saw a notification for Weverse Live. You didn't even have time to blink before you opened the app.

Jake was live. Wearing your hoodie.The same one you stitched yourself and designed to have (incidentally) his name just barely stitched in like a real hoodie would have it. The cozy, oversized, shade of a navy blue you picked just for him, knowing he once said dark blue was soothing.

And now, it was on him. On live. You could not stop smiling.You recorded the whole thing on screen record, took too many screenshots and even posted your favorite one on your small account on Instagram.

@yn__archive 🧵: i made the hoodie for all the members and they wore it 😭😭 im crying real tears  #enhypen #jakesim #fanmade

Within the hour you were flooded with comments.

"GIRL YOU WON IN LIFE"

"how does it feel to be God's favorite??"

"He literally looks like a boyfriend wearing his girl's hoodie"

"Petition for Jake to @ you himself"

"Drop the tutorial PLS"

You grinned, but had no idea that far away, Jake—the Jake—was also scrolling through Instagram.

On his personal account.

He had been curious ever since you gave him and the others the hoodie you made. 

And then he found it.

Your account.

He tapped your username, and there you were: a fan account curated to perfection, packed with little edits, photos, café visits, outfit shots, and the day you were all at the fansign. He swiped through a few, smiling to himself about how warm and sincere your big love for Enhypen seemed. Then he froze.

There it was, a photo from when you went to the café for his birthday last year. You were standing in front of a giant Jake banner, holding his photocard next to your face, smiling.

Your fitted off-shoulder top showed a little bit of cleavage, your skirt was pleated and barely hit mid-thigh, and you sat with your legs crossed elegantly.

You looked so pretty. So confident. So playful. Jake felt frozen. "Woah..." he said to himself.

He couldn't tell what he was drawn to first—your face, your outfit, or the way you held his photocard like it was the most precious thing. He double-tapped without thinking. Once he realized what he'd just done, he panicked—unliked. Then he hesitated and did something impulsive.

He shared your post from earlier. The one of him wearing your hoodie.

@jake.sim [Shared post from @yn__archive] "Thank you. This is so amazing. We loved them 🧵💙" 

Fans went wild.

You stared at your screen in shock. Jake had just shared your post. Your DMs flooded. Your notifications blew up. Your follower count doubled in minutes.

Some fans were excited, others playful:

"Girl he knows you exist now."

"If you don't marry him, I will."

"He SCROLLED through your page. He saw everything."

Including that birthday café post.

And yet... he still shared your post.

You swallowed hard, heart racing.

Somewhere across the city, Jake sat back in his chair, still on your profile. Yeah. He remembered your name now. And he definitely wasn't forgetting your face.

Times goes by fast, and somehow concert season was already upon us again. ENHYPEN's new Dark Blood era had you feral—the songs, the choreography, the visuals—and Jake's new blonde hair? Absolutely lethal.

So naturally, you dyed your own hair too. Soft blonde, not too bold but enough to be noticed.

Maybe it was dramatic. Maybe it wasn't.

But you didn't care. You were finally seeing them again.

Front row. VIP. With your best friend. And you were going to look hot. You went all out: black mesh sleeves, leather mini skirt, silver accessories, a little glitter by your eyes.

Your tattoo—the one with Jakes's signature—was peeking out of your sleeve on purpose. Your heart was beating out of your chest as the lights dimmed and screams rang out.

They were on. You basically lost your voice in the first 10 minutes. But then it happened. He saw you. Jake zoomed in on you like a 2-for-1 special the second he spotted the blonde. His eyes went wide for a split second, his mouth twitching at the corners like he was trying not to smile too big.  

Your fingers had already started to shake as you reached for your phone, even before you forming a heart with your fingers. Jake jogged over—while still singing—his mic still hot as he sang, quickly forming his hand into the other half of the heart with you. His hand brushed against yours as he held it for a second, and your heart just stopped when he lingered a second longer than necessary.

Then, in the most unbelievable moment in the world, he reached for your phone with one hand, and softly held your fingers with his other, and took two selfies.

One with a cute wink. One with a cute smirk. One with a cute peace sign. One cute smiling face where he smiled right into your soul. He handed it back to you with the most soft expression on his face, like he recognized you.

Like he knew who you were. Then he gently squeezed your fingers before continuing down the stage and interacting with other fans.

You were breathless, phone clutched to your chest as if it was a holy relic. Your ears were definitely pink.

Burning, actually. Jake saw.

Jake totally noticed.

Especially the peek of black ink curving around your upper arm—his signature. The one you got tattooed after the fansign.

He stuttered for just a second. Tripped slightly in his step. Luckily, he masked it by falling right into the next beat of choreography like a pro.

But his ears were red too now.

He was still thinking about you as the song ended. And he kept looking back throughout his performance, he was doing his best to not stare at you. That night, you posted one of the selfies on your fan account, with just three words:

 @yn__archive "He saw me." [photo: Jake and you, fingers making a heart, matching blonde hair, glowing under the stage lights]

Your comment section went off.

"NOOOO THIS IS A FANFIC IRL"

"THE HAIR MATCHING?? THE TATTOOS?? THE EYE CONTACT???"

"HE'S DOWN BAD MA'AM."

"I know he looked back. I saw it. We all saw it."

And back stage, Jake was still there. Still trying to breathe. Still replaying that second.

And when he was going through his tagged posts later... 

He smiled when he saw your post. Hearted it from his private account. Saved the selfie too. He wasn't going to let you be a fan anymore. 

The concert felt like a fever dream, not just because Jake had held your hand mid-song, or that he took selfies on your phone, but also because it wasn't just you who saw all of that.

By the time you and your best friend got outside of the venue, Twitter, TikTok, and fan accounts were already blowing up.

Someone had captured video footage of you squealing and bouncing with excitement talking to your friend after Jake's interaction with you.

You were gushing like an actual middle-schooler, "Did you see him? He smiled at me! I swear, he smiled at me like he knew me!"

You were laughing until your friend was fanning and waving you down like you were overheating.

What you had not anticipated too was the way the camera slowly panned, right to Jake on stage. Looking directly at you. The expression on his face was unreadable, jaw tight.

His eyes? Tracking every detail of you, from your dyed hair, to the fit of your outfit, and, yeah, the way your top sat too perfectly on you. He lingered for a moment before quickly turning away, but maybe a little too quick... like he just got caught.  

The fans were ruthless.

"Is no one gonna talk about the way Jake was LITERALLY checking her out while she was fangirling over HIM???"

"I SAW WHERE HIS EYES WENT. JAKE. BE SERIOUS."

"That boy is fighting for his life."

"I understand  you Jake, I would fold if I had a girl like that as my fan." 

You watched the video about seventeen times before throwing your phone down and burying your face in your pillow.

Wow. It was embarrassing. But the cute kind, where your stomach twists and your cheeks ache from smiling.

You shared a casual story with a few blurry concert photos and the caption: "Still can't believe all of this happened. Thank you for the best night of my life 🤍".

You didn't expect anything else. You thought it was over.

But it wasn't. About 3 am your phone lit up. A DM request. From an account with no posts, no profile picture... but one follower. Someone pretty familiar.

The username was vague, like a random sequence of letters, but as soon as you opened it you knew.

🐶: Is it ok if I message you here? I can't follow you because of... well, obvious reasons, haha. But I just- I couldn't stop thinking about what happened earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no profile picture. No real name. But you knew it was him. The way he typed. The emoji. The timing. Your fingers were slightly shaky when you replied. 

you: I mean, you did kind of steal my phone. I think that makes us friends now 😌

🐶: true. I don't do that for everyone, you know.

🐶: also, your hair. You really matched me?? That was insane. I thought I was imagining you for a sec.

You bit your lip. He noticed that? Of course he did.

you: of course I did. Blonde Jake? How could I not?

🐶: And that tattoo. Is it real?

Your fingers paused above the screen before you typed:

you: yeah. It's permanent. like my obsession with you.

🐶: wow.

🐶: can I tell you a secret?

You blinked. Fingers hovered.

you: only if you promise not to ruin my entire existence with it.

There was a pause. Then the next message came in.

🐶: you're the prettiest fan I've ever seen. Like, ever."

You stared at the screen for a full minute, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

This was happening. Jake Sim just called you pretty. Jake Sim who couldn't follow you but still found a way to reach you. Jake Sim who stared too long. Who tripped over choreography after seeing your tattoo. Who looked at you like you weren't just a face in the crowd anymore.

And you weren't dreaming.

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: ...

The Diasomnia students: *casts a stern glare in their direction, eyes narrowing as they meticulously evaluate and size them up with a sharp, calculating gaze*

MC: ...

MC: Good morning-

Diasomnia student A: I have no idea what the headmage was thinking, asking His Royal Highness to accept a stranger into our dorm. They seem weak—I doubt they can even protect themselves.

Diasomnia student B: You probably missed the Orientation. They came here with stab wounds and were on the brink of death.

Diasomnia student C: *chuckles* Is that right?

MC: ...

Crowley: Remember this: Night Raven College isn’t your ordinary school. Don’t count on the students here to be friendly. If they show you disrespect, you should know how to deal with it.

MC: ...Typical.

Diasomnia student A: Were you saying something?

MC: I was asked to meet Lilia Vanrouge. If you’re not him, then I have no business with you.

The Diasomnia students: !!!

Diasomnia student C: You don't deserve to meet Lilia-sama!

MC: ... *turns their head to the side*

Diasomnia student C: This little-

Lilia: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!

The Diasomnia students: L-Lilia-sama!

Lilia: Is this how you greet a newcomer?!

The Diasomnia students: *have gone silent*

Lilia: Seriously, these children... *shaking his head* *then turns to MC*

Lilia: Are you alright- *his eyes widen in surprise as he freezes in place*

MC: ...

Lilia: ...

The Diasomnia students: *are confused with Lilia's reaction*

MC: ...Is something wrong?

Lilia: ...

Lilia: Follow me.

Lilia: I’m sorry about the mess. I forgot to tidy up yesterday.

MC: It's fine. *can tell he's being restless*

Lilia: ...

Lilia: *decides to sit beside them and examines their face more closely*

MC: ...

Lilia: ...

Lilia: *begins to tear up*

MC: ...

Lilia: *gently cups their cheek with earnest eyes* MC... Do you remember Pépé? You used to call me that before— *his voice falters as he chokes on a sob*

MC: *unable to respond, stares at him in confusion, completely bewildered by what is happening*

Lilia: *wiping his tears* I should call Malleus. Wait- He doesn't know how to use his phone.

Sebek: Waka-sama!

Silver: Malleus!

Malleus: If it’s not something important, I’d prefer to be left alone.

Silver: I received a message from father.

Sebek: Lilia-sama is requesting that you return right away.

Malleus: Oh. Has the new student arrived?

Silver and Sebek: ...

Silver: Father said that... it's your child.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *stood there, visibly stunned, his eyes widening in disbelief* What did you say?

[200mark]

⌗ i know it’s not much but .. lee jeno

SCENE .. in which jeno turns his living room into a makeshift restaurant for a cozy at-home date.

꒰ DETAILS ꒱ boyfriend!jeno & fem!rea ⋮ ♯ file 001. established relationship, scenario, petnames && fluff ᵔⰙᵔ wc .. {929} 𓂃🖊

♡ entry .. hello again! i had this sitting in my docs for a while so i decided to kind of rewrite it for jeno, originally writing this there was no one in mind and just wrote it as “he” this idea was going to be like a full on date night idea but i like small intimate things so this was really cute idea that i had thought of mid writing. proofread but may still be errors! i apologize in advance.

more of nct dream

jeno had been planning this all week, he knew you were coming by his place all week, so he made sure he kept it tidy, even washing the dishes everyday. the faint smell of vanilla lingered in the air from the candle in his bedroom, he glanced over to his room seeing that it was the only room in the house that was a mess he rushed over and closed the door “well so much for lighting that candle,” he murmured to himself before walking back into the living room sighing running his hands through his hair.

he went out and bought a table and chairs, a white tablecloth that draped over the table which was too small but it’s the thought that counts he kept reminding himself. the table was round and black and it took him a few days to build only because he read the instructions step by step, the table and chairs had been built since wednesday and he left it all set up in the living room just going straight to bed when coming home from work, afraid to mess up his set up.

“should i light these candles now or wait,” he was referring to the candles placed on the table, he was definitely starting to over think this whole thing now maybe he went in over his head. “i’ll light just one since the one in my bedroom is still in there, and put the others away.” he quickly lit the candle and placed the candle in the center of the table, turning it slightly to face towards the chair you would be seated in. 

he rushed into his bedroom tossing the candles onto his bed, which wasn’t a smart decision since they were glass but he managed to get them both on his bed. he went back into the living room looking at the set up one last time before going into the kitchen checking on the pasta he was cooking. 

the knock on the door startled him, he looked at the door then down at his watch it dawned on him that you’re now here and he rushed to the living room straightening up pillows on the couch and adjusting the rug under the table with his foot behind letting out a stressful sigh, “i hope she likes this..” he mumbled to himself.

he makes his way to the door, “who is it?” he said jokingly causing you to laugh “maintenance!” you shout back and he opens the door, “maintenance be looking a little different here” you giggled and without a word, jeno reached out, gently pulling you into a hug—tight, warm, and exactly what he needed.

“you smell amazing,” you said, pulling away and making your way into his apartment. “wait wait wait,” he gently grabbed your arm, turning you around hoping you didn’t notice his set up in the living room. you looked up at him “everything okay?” and he nodded “i have a surprise,” he smiled covering your eyes “trust me, okay?” “of course, i trust you jeno.” 

“it smells great in here. are you finally burning those candles i bought you?” he heard the excitement in your voice which made him smile, and he nodded as if you could see him before saying yes. he’s guiding you to the living room one hand on your hip the other covering your eyes.

“okay are you ready…? i’ve had this plan in motion all week so if you don’t like it you don’t get to eat delicious food with me,” he lets out a little chuckle and you gently nudged him with your elbow he removed his hand from your eyes and placed it on the other side of your hip.

you open your eyes allowing them to adjust to the lighting before taking in the scene around you, “is this the surprise…?” you say attempting to sound disappointed but he could practically hear you cheesing behind your words.

“no yummy food for you then,” he removes his hands from your hips and walks into the kitchen, “baby i’m joking, i love it! very thoughtful and cute.” you wrapped your arm around his following him into the kitchen, “yeah, i know it isn’t much but-” you cut him off “it’s more than enough jeno.” you said smiling and he kissed your forehead, “i’m glad you like it baby.”

after a while you’re both seated at the table set up in the living room, eating your pasta, sharing a laugh and just enjoying each other’s company. “so you really had this table built basically all week?” and he nodded, taking a sip from his cup. “mhm, i usually sleep in the living room when i come home from work but i was afraid of ruining the whole set up so i was forced to sleep in my bed, very worth it though.”

“i almost forgot,” he said standing up from the table disappearing into his bedroom and you just watched him “i know you’re allergic to roses… and i still wanted to get you some flowers so i bought you some stargazer…? i’m not sure the lady at the flower shop helped me pick them out i just told her your favorite color and…” he kept rambling on he did notice you were standing in front on him smiling from ear to ear, 

“they’re beautiful jeno,” you laughed softly, clutching the flowers to your chest, eyes shining. when your lips met his, he was smiling—soft, giddy, and full of happiness. 

“well, beautiful flowers for an even beautiful woman.”

[hrts4-jay]

⑅☽⑊CONVENIENCE⑊☾⑅

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Reader (Nali)

cw: 1.6k ♡♡

A/N: here’s another Geum Seongje fic for u guys! This one is short :) I also want to thank y'all for the support from my first fic 🥹🫶

The fluorescent hum of the convenience store buzzed in Nali's ears, a stark contrast to the quiet grumbling in her stomach. Late-night cravings were her weakness, usually manifesting in a desperate need for ramen.

She scanned the shelves, the bright glow of the snack aisle momentarily distracting her. Then she saw him.

Geum Seongje.

He was leaning against the back wall, half-hidden behind stacks of discounted energy drinks. But even in the dim light, she couldn't miss it: Blood.

Blood painted his knuckles, splattered across his uniform, and dripped down his chin. Cuts and bruises blossomed across his face, A strange and dark expression appeared on his usually expressionless face, despite his glasses covering his beautiful eyes.

Nali's breath hitched. Seongje was known for his quiet strength, He’s powerful and influential at Eunjang High, especially after they took down the Union. He wasn't someone she expected to see crumpled and bleeding in a convenience store. But she wasn't scared at all.

She immediately took two packs of ramen.

He didn’t seem to notice her, lost in a grim contemplation of the tiled floor. He looked… broken—a mess.

He was zoning out.

Hesitantly, she slowly approached him. "S-Seongje? Are you… okay?"

He flinched, his head snapping up. Recognition flickered in his dark eyes, followed by a flash of something she couldn't quite decipher – maybe shame, maybe anger.

"Nali?" he mumbled, his voice rough. "Go away." He said.

He took a moment to pause, leaning against the cool surface of the wall as he gathered his thoughts. With a deep breath, he pushed himself away, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly as he stepped outside. Quickly pulling out a cig from his pocket, lighting it up with his silver lighter.

His words were sharp, but she could hear the tremor beneath them. He was trying to push her away, protect her from whatever mess had left him like this.

Ignoring him, she quickly gathered antiseptic wipes, bandages, gauze, and painkillers from the shelf. The cashier, a bored-looking teenager, didn't even glance up as she rang up the surprisingly large pile of medical supplies.

Running outside, she stood before him, holding out the bag. "Let me help you."

He stared at the bag, his eyes narrowed. "I don't need your help." He said, letting out a puff of smoke.

"Maybe not," Nali said, her voice unwavering. "But I'm offering it anyway."

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, The palpable tension simmering between the two almost suffocated her.

Finally, he sighed a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. He knew he couldn't win against her quiet determination. He turned, flicking his cigarette.

"Fine," he grunted, taking the bag. "But I'm not going to your dorm."

"My place it is, then," Nali said, a small smile tugging at her lips. She lived in a small apartment off-campus. Letting Seongje in was a risk, a violation of her carefully set boundaries. His rough appearance and the vulnerability in his eyes drew her in.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

The apartment was small, and sparsely furnished, but clean and organized. Nali pointed him toward the bathroom. "Wash up. I'll get some towels."

While he was gone, she quickly tidied the living room, shoving textbooks and manga under the couch. The anxiety was starting to creep in, a nervous flutter in her stomach. Nali was alone with Seongje, the quiet, intimidating Seongje of Eunjang High, covered in blood and who knew what trauma.

Why did he look so good despite looking like a mess?

He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, his face clean but still marked with bruises.

Nali gestured to the couch. "Sit. Let me see."

He hesitated, then sat carefully, as if afraid he might break the furniture. Nali knelt in front of him, her fingers light as she began to clean his wounds. She was surprisingly gentle, her touch careful and precise. She worked in silence, focusing on the task at hand, trying to ignore the way her heart was hammering in her chest. Trying to ignore the fact he’s staring hard at her.

Each cut told a story, each bruise a testament to the violence he'd endured. She imagined the fight, the brutal, unforgiving world he navigated, and a wave of protectiveness washed over her. She felt so bad for him.

"Who did this?" Nali asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn't answer, his jaw clenched tight.

"You don't have to tell me," she said, seeing the darkness gathering in his eyes. "But you don't have to do this alone either."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and Nali felt a jolt, a sudden awareness of the space between them, the intimacy of the moment. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with a pain that resonated deep within her.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low and rough. It was barely audible, but Nali heard it.

As she finished bandaging his hand, she caught his gaze and held it. In that moment, the convenience store, the blood, the violence – all of it faded away. There was just Seongje, broken and vulnerable, and Nali, offering a haven in the storm.

She glanced at the clock: 11:48 PM

“You should stay for a night here. It’s dangerous to go out at a time like this; You might get hurt again.” Nali said, holding his bruised wrist, and looking up at him.

He pulled his wrist from her grasp. “No, it’s okay.” He mumbled.

“Please, I insist.” Nali smiled at him. “I have an extra mattress, don’t worry.”

She moved towards the corner of the room where she kept the rolled-up mattress. As she worked, she could feel his eyes on her, making her move awkwardly. She set the mattress in her room right beside her bed. Bedsheets, pillows, and blanket—all set up. She completely forgot about the ‘Enhypen’ posters sticking to her walls. “Shit.” She quickly covered the posters with bond paper. “That’s gonna be so embarrassing.”

Dusting her hands, she sighed. She can’t fathom the fact that Seongje is literally sleeping with her. She bit her bottom lip from the thoughts filling in her head. Changing into her pj’s, she decided to wear a cami lace top and pj pants. Simplicity is the best.

“Seongje, come inside, the AC is on!” She called out to him.

Seongje slowly walked into her room, the cold fresh air hitting him.

“Oh, I have my friend’s hoodie and pants, you can wear them. Here you go.” She smiled brightly handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹

Gently cradling her head in her hands, she rested her forehead against the soft surface of the bed, focusing her gaze on Seongje. As her eyes locked with his, she noticed him lying back comfortably, his hands resting behind his head.

“Hm? Is there somethingon my face?” he murmured with a smirk, tilting his head slightly to the side, a curious glint in his eye.

She stared at him longer — deeper. A soft sigh escaped her lips. She found herself lost in the simple sight of him, the relaxed curve of his smile, the way the lamp light caught the edges of his dark hair.

"It's just..." she began, her voice barely a whisper, the words catching in her throat. She pushed hereelf up slightly, her hands now framing her face as she continued to gaze at him. "It's just... you.” She said, giving him a slight smile.

A warmth spread through hee chest, a tender feeling that pleasantly made her heartache. She yearned to reach out, to trace the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, but for now, simply looking felt enough. She wanted to touch him, feel him, so bad.

Seongje's gaze softened, the curiosity in his eyes melting into something warmer, something that mirrored the emotions swirling within her. He propped himself up and reached out his hand, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek. The simple touch sent a shiver down her spine.

"And what about me?" he murmured, a smirk played on his face. His voice a low rumble. His thumb traced a soft circle on her skin, his eyes never leaving hers.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she savored the connection. When she opened them again, her gaze was filled with an unspoken affection.

"Everything," she breathed, the word hanging in the air between her. "Everything about you. I want to know you more.”

A soft smile touched Seongje's lips, a genuine, unguarded expression that made her heart skip a beat. He lowered his hand from her cheek, his fingers trailing down her neck, sending another wave of shivers through her.

"Then ask," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with an invitation. "Ask me anything."

A thousand questions bubbled to the surface of her mind, a torrent of curiosity about the man before her. What made him like this? What were his intentions with her? Why did he join the Union? What does he want from her?

But in that moment, under the soft glow of the evening light, with his hand warm in hers, she found herself drawn to something more immediate, more personal.

"Tell me," she began, her voice barely a whisper, her gaze locked with his, "what makes you... you?"

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⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹

[elixirfromthestars]

Dancing Embers

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader

Summary: A cozy cabin, the love of your life, and the warmth of a fire. What more could you ask for on a cold winter night?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. slight insinuation at the end. female reader.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> a crackling fire sets the mood

a/n: This piece is written as a standalone. However, I will link below the pairing this fic is based on in case you want to read more of them. For context, this timeline is one where Bucky made it back from the war safe and sound and is enjoying his life now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

how their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

The hum of the radio travels through the air and finds its way into the kitchen where you’re placing tonight’s dinner in the oven. A puff of hot air caresses your face as you close the oven door, the casserole dish cocooned inside by a blazing heat. You pick up the small timer from the counter and twist the dial, setting it for thirty minutes. 

Now, you have to find something to do to pass the time…

You look around the unfamiliar kitchen, its rustic woodsy furnishing a cozy contrast to the one in your apartment in the city. A smile makes its way to your face as you recall how Bucky surprised you with this weekend getaway. It was after you came home from a shift at the children’s clinic—exhaustion heavy in your bones. An exhaustion he eased with a homecooked meal and a plethora of loving kisses. All leading up to the surprise of a weekend trip just for the two of you, presented to you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a handwritten note.

You started packing right away after that. 

While still ruminating on the joy of the memory, you begin to tidy up the mess in the kitchen—the one left from your dinner preparations. There wasn’t much to clean up—bits of leftover ingredients here and a few prep dishes there���but at least it gives you something to do while the timer counts down in the background. 

Out of the blue, a frosty air embraces you from behind. You let out a small squeal as the arms that usually radiate warmth are bitterly cold against your skin. A sharp intake of breath escaping you at the contact.

“Bucky, you’re freezing!” you say with concern and caught off guard by the piercing chill of his hands. How long had he been out in the cold? 

“Not anymore,” he mutters a response as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his icy lips pressing kisses into your skin. A shiver goes down your spine as the frost on his lips melts away into a heat that you’re used to. 

You twist in his arms to face him, pulling him even closer by his wool jacket to kiss the tip of his reddened nose, hoping to bring warmth back to it. Bucky grins at you with a gentle adoration, even more so when you brush off the remnants of winter from his hair and shoulders. His eyes take in your every feature like he wants to commit this moment to memory. 

When it comes to you, he always does. There’s never been a moment with you he doesn’t hold dear in his heart. His time at war taught him to treasure every second he gets with those he loves most. And of course, as the love of his life, that includes you. 

“I’m going to need more than that to warm up, doll,” he claims playfully, before connecting his lips to yours, pulling you flush against him by your waist. Your arms eagerly wrap around his shoulders, melting into him faster than the snow on his body does. The kiss is sweet, yet profound as if the hour spent apart had been entirely too long for the both of you. 

When the kiss has restricted enough air from your lungs, you both pull away only slightly and out of breath, smiling from ear to ear. You collect yourself enough to say, “Dinner should be ready soon.” Bucky, however, has his attention elsewhere as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips once more. 

“Sounds. Good. Doll,” he mumbles the words between kisses that leave you in a fit of giggles. A sound that almost drowns out the grumbling of his stomach. 

“Someone’s hungry.”

“Mm, chopping lumber will do that to you.”

“Chopping lumber?”

“For the fireplace. I should probably go and get it started.”

Bucky lets out an exaggerated sigh, not entirely keen on going back out into the cold night. He presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before reluctantly detaching his arms from your waist as he heads back outside. He spends the next few minutes hauling in pieces of wood into the living room where he tends to the fireplace. Meanwhile, you get the dining table ready for your dinner for two. 

As you are on the brink of finishing setting up, you notice the radio gets louder—a slow song replacing the previous hum. It’s not long before Bucky comes back into the kitchen, however, this time he’s swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as his hands outstretch to beckon you to him. 

“Dance with me,” he says, taking hold of your hands and placing them on his shoulders. You laugh softly, looking at him with fond mirth. “Maybe later, sweetheart. Dinner’s almost ready,” you mention, glancing at the mechanical timer that would go off in a few minutes.

Bucky shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down from his shoulders, but before they can go anywhere, he swiftly intertwines them with his own. He uses this small leverage to begin coaxing you out of the kitchen and into the living room with gentle tugs. “Dinner can wait, doll. I want to dance with my best girl first,” he replies, his expression full of pleading affection. 

You can never say no when he looks at you like that. 

You throw the image of the timer to the back of your head and follow Bucky into the center of the living room. To your right, the fireplace crackles beautifully with bright embers, cascading the room in an amber glow. To your left, the coffee table, handcrafted in oak, is pushed up against the sofa, giving you enough space by the fireplace to dance. 

Bucky’s hands find purchase at your waist as he anchors you closer. Your hands settle against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Soon your hips and his gradually sway in sync, letting the melody of the song guide you. 

You hold each other close for what seems like a lifetime, the heat of the fire amplifying the warmth that radiates between you. Its flames flicker alongside you as if slow dancing themselves. The serenity of the moment forever engraves itself into your heart. 

“I love you, Y/n. I can’t wait for the rest of our lives to start,” Bucky’s voice is full of devotion, bringing your left hand up to his lips to kiss the spot right where your engagement ring is. You look at him as if he hung the moon for you, “I love you too, Bucky. Forever can’t come soon enough.” Your hands snake up to wrap behind his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss, the kind that consumes as quickly as a spark catches fire. However, before the intensity can reach a boiling point, a loud ringing suddenly breaks it. The timer in the kitchen signaling whatever desires were igniting would have to be put on pause until after dinner. 

“Dinners ready,” neither of you are ready to break apart when you whisper this. A beat passes and Bucky lifts your chin gently with his finger, so your gaze locks with his adoring one.

“One more kiss.”

“The casserole is going to burn.” 

“Just one more?”

There he goes again with that pleading expression you can’t resist. 

“You know it won’t be just one more, James Buchanan Barnes,” you point out and he lets out a hearty chuckle. 

“You know me so well Mrs.Barnes-to-be.” 

He kisses you again anyway—short and sweet—leaving you with a promise for more to hold onto. Your laughter mixes with his as you lead him back to the kitchen. He hugs you from behind one last time as he whispers an enticing promise into your ear. 

“After dinner, I’m having you for dessert.” 

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After Bradley finally breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything.

Warnings: Fluff, language, breakup angst

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had his duffle bag open on his bed, tidy stacks of his uniform components, flight suits, and underwear lined up next to it. He had his checklist in front of him. He liked to be as organized as possible.

"Are you even listening to me? I thought we were going out to dinner."

He looked up from his partially packed toiletry bag into the annoyed eyes of Vanessa where she stood on the other side of the bed. He was seven months into this relationship, and sometimes he wondered why either of them still bothered. She knew his routine by now. She knew what his deployments were like, but she had absolutely no patience for any of it.

"Ness, I'm leaving in four days. I just need to focus on this for a few minutes so I know what I need to buy before Wednesday, and then we can go out and eat."

"It's already seven o'clock. I thought you'd have finished packing by now," she replied with a pout and a glare. "Every nice restaurant is going to have a long wait now, because I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you didn't make a reservation anywhere."

He took a deep breath and let it out before pressing his lips together. What he really wanted was to order something for delivery, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie and have the first round of hot, goodbye sex. But she'd never go for it now. Apparently he'd already fucked up for the night. 

"No, I didn't make a reservation," he said calmly, and she rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I really don't even feel like going out. I'll be gone for months, stuck in a tiny bunk or a loud mess hall. I'd like to stay in tonight where it's quiet. Just me and you."

But she wasn't listening at all. "Let me see if Woodmere has any tables left," she muttered. "If not there, then I can try The Landmark." She looked as beautiful as she always did, but he couldn't even stand the sight of her right now.

"Ness. I want to stay in."

She groaned and looked him in the eye. "Of course you do. You always want to stay in. You always want to decompress or read a book. That's not healthy, you know that, right? I shouldn't have to force you out of your comfort zone all the time."

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. His job was demanding, both mentally and physically. He usually preferred quiet over loud, because his own thoughts started to buzz when she dragged him out all over the place. And now she was glaring at him again. "Are you even going to miss me?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer. "You haven't said so one time since I told you about this deployment."

She heaved a deep and annoyed sigh. "You're deployed so frequently, Bradley, it's like you're the government's bitch. And if the Navy is going to insist upon eating up taxpayer money, the least they could do is pay you more."

His skin started to crawl as she went off about his career like always, but he'd honestly had enough. He raised his voice louder and asked once again, "Are you even going to miss me?"

Vanessa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I'm going to miss you. What kind of question is that? I'll be bored every weekend, waiting for you to get back, like usual. I almost never go out when you're deployed."

Bradley's heart started to pound in a way that made his palms sweat and his stomach turn. "Jesus, Vanessa. I asked if you're going to miss me. Not miss going out every weekend."

When she hesitated for a beat, he reached out to brace his hand on his headboard. "Yes, Bradley. I am going to miss you. Okay? Happy?"

"Fuck, no. I'm not happy Vanessa." And that was the bottom line right there. The absolute truth. And it didn't hurt to say it, rather he immediately felt better. He knew he would miss the sporadic emails and the phone calls and the dirty pictures and the reunion sex. The upcoming weeks would be harder without those things to look forward to, but at least he'd come home to his own place where he could do what he wanted instead of what he was told. He wouldn't have to listen to her negativity. "I think we need to break up."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "Excuse me?"

Bradley let go of the bed and ran his hand over his face. "You heard me, Ness. This isn't working. For either of us."

"Don't call me Ness," she snapped, immediately turning toward his bedroom door. "You're not my boyfriend anymore." She paused briefly, just long enough to say, "Fuck you," and then she was gone. 

He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple minutes, but it didn't take long to sort through his feelings. The immediate sense of calm that he felt had him convinced he'd done the right thing. There was no shared living space. There was no ring. There was no real commitment. Maybe he'd always known why that was the case. 

So he packed up his bag and made a shopping list, and when his stomach started to growl, he ordered dinner for himself from his favorite restaurant. He didn't cry, and he didn't worry about having to do anything he didn't want to do.

------------------------

The first few weeks of his deployment were great. He spent a lot of time in the air, and he flirted a bit with some of the women who approached him in the gym on the aircraft carrier. He jerked off while he thought about whomever he fucking wanted to. He didn't spend very much time reflecting on his relationship with Vanessa other than to acknowledge that it wasn't much of a relationship at all. In the moments where he thought maybe he missed her, he realized he just missed the idea of having someone who cared about him.

He was about a month in when he realized the attractive woman who always touched his arm in the gym was actually married, and he was not all about that. He was also maybe kind of getting tired of masturbating which was a depressing thought. He was bored, and he was lonely, and other than randomly hooking up with someone, he figured his best bet was finding a book or something to read. 

When he made his way to dinner, he heard everyone talking about the helicopter that had landed on deck less than an hour ago stacked full of containers of mail. There was a line of officers trailing down the hallway adjacent to the mess hall, everyone waiting patiently to pick up parcels from their loved ones. Since Bradley had basically nobody who would think to write to him, he made his way toward the food instead. 

His tray was piled high with everything he could get his hands on, and when he looked for somewhere to sit, he had to deftly avoid that stacked lieutenant who had a husband at home. He found a table off in the corner and devoured his dinner alone. When he stood to drop off his empty dishes and tray, some petty officers entered the cavernous room to drop off unclaimed mail. 

"Harper, Jonathan! Pauley, Vincent! Dixon, Jennifer! Sutter, Wesley! Bradshaw, Bradley!"

He was more than a little intrigued as he made his way up along with a handful of others, and then a white envelope and a small cardboard box were thrust into his hands. The envelope was addressed to him by name in familiar chicken scratch that made him smile. He shouldn't have counted Natasha out, especially when his birthday was in a few days. 

He tore into the envelope as he made his way back to his bunk. It contained a very short letter along with a coupon for buy one get one free steak dinners at her favorite restaurant with a post-it stuck to the back. 

This is your birthday present. Now when you take me out for my birthday when you get home, you only have to pay half as much. You're welcome.

He snorted as he unlocked his bunk door and tossed everything from Nat onto the small nightstand. And then he examined the box. It wasn't addressed to him. Not really. It was addressed to 'A Deployed US Naval Aviator' in tidy handwriting. Then he noticed the return address was from an elementary school in Mira Mesa, and his curiosity got the best of him.

Bradley sat on the edge of his bed and tore gently into the packaging to find the box was jam packed with items and overflowing with envelopes. He tipped the box, and everything went cascading out onto his narrow bed. There were a lot of snacks, and a pack of trail mix caught his eye, making his stomach growl.

"I just fed you," he muttered but ripped into the snack anyway, dumping half of it into his mouth in one go. He was eyeing the envelopes carefully, each one distinctly unique. Some had names written on them, and some had little doodles or pictures, but they definitely seemed to be from a class of kids who went to the school. He sifted through them until he found a slightly larger, more official looking envelope which once again said To: A Deployed US Naval Aviator.

He finished his snack, silently thanking the class of kids and their teacher, and then he opened the big envelope. He pulled out a typed up letter which was folded around a few photos that slid onto his lap. Then he started to read.

Dear United States Naval Aviator,

First of all, thank you for your service. Second, let us introduce ourselves. We are one of the fourth grade classes from Mira Mesa Elementary School, and we have been learning all about aviation for the last month or so. We have combined our science, math and social studies classes into one unit all about flying, and we have learned so much. We really wanted to share some of what we learned with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us learn even more!

Each student in the class has included a letter filled with information and some questions. If you have some free time and are inclined to do so, we would love to hear back from you. (No pressure!) There are plenty of thoughtful questions that my students would appreciate more information about. (Once again, only if you want to!) And I for one would love to give them the chance to show off what they learned to a professional. (I'm just a proud teacher!)

Thank you very much for indulging our curiosity thus far, and we hope to hear back from you. I'll include my email address just in case you have any questions or would prefer to reply that way. Otherwise you can send mail directly to the address for the school along with my name, and it will get to us. We hope we are about to dazzle you with our letters, and we wish you well on your deployment.

Sincerely,

The best fourth graders you will ever meet along with their teacher

Bradley was chuckling as he finished reading. Of course he would take the time to look at all of the notes from the kids and send back a response. It wasn't like he'd be tied up talking to Vanessa. This little project would keep him busy when he had nothing else to do, and besides, this was the kind of shit he would have thought was outlandishly cool when he was a fourth grader himself. 

He read and reread the name and accompanying email address at the bottom of the page. This teacher sounded charming, and he'd only read three paragraphs from her. He flipped the page over to double check that she hadn't written anything more, already wishing she had. Then he picked up the photos that had landed on his thigh and started to flip through them.

First he saw a group of kids outside in the bright San Diego sunlight, lined up and throwing paper airplanes. Then he flipped to one where some of the kids were sitting at their desks building more elaborate planes out of pieces of foam. There was another photo of the class on some sort of field trip, but it was the last photo in the stack that had him sitting up a little taller and taking a closer look.

"Damn."

The kids were all lined up once again, wearing a rainbow of colors, some making silly faces. But his eyes caught on their teacher. On you. Smiling back at him from the photo like you had an amusing secret. Like you wanted to share it with him.

"Fucking gorgeous."

----------------------

And, we're off. Oh, he thinks we are cute. Oh, he is about to be charmed even more. Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit with this one, and thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[sunday-bug]

Can you write something about Bucky and reader having a pillow fight?

Light as a Feather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Content: maximum fluff

Synopsis: While babysitting Sarah’s boys, AJ & Cass, you meet the famous Uncle Bucky. Cue the giggles.

A/N: Thank you for this sweet request, anon! I hope you enjoy the featherlight fluff.

Whomp! You’ve been hit across the back of the head with yet another pillow. Sam’s nephews, AJ and Cass, were wild ones, but easy enough to babysit if you let yourself join in on their shenanigans. Tonight’s mission - a covert pillow fight. And you? You were losing. Painfully.

Another pillow smacked you in the chest and you heard a small tear as feathers exploded out of the side and littered the room. Oh no. Before you can assess the mess, you hear the back door lock click and the door open.

“We’re in here, Sarah! Don’t look at the mess!” You shout from the living room, but no answer returns. She must have called it an early night with her date. Footsteps creak on the floorboards and you wait expectantly to see her smiling face, but you are met with a strange man holding a crowbar. You immediately square your shoulders, shielding the boys behind you. The man smiles and waves, and the boys erupt in giggles, running to him yelling “Uncle Bucky!”

Oh thank God. They knew him. The boys are climbing his legs like a tree and hanging from his left arm. Ah, this must be the guy Sarah was telling you about.

“Hey,” he waves with his free hand, swinging the crowbar in the air. “I’m Bucky. Sorry, I thought Sarah would be here. Just need to grab a few tools for the boat.”

“Bucky. Yeah, Sarah has mentioned you. You’re Sam’s friend, right?”

“Yeah,” he clarifies, looking at the mess in the living room. Feathers, paper mache, Legos, and an empty pizza box complete the babysitting aesthetic you have going on.

You introduce yourself and smile sheepishly, ”I know it’s a mess, but I always tidy before I leave.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Were you guys having a pillow fight?” He directs the last question at the boys and they squeal in delight.

“Yes, Uncle Bucky, we were winning too!” They yell, continuing to barrage him.

Bucky sets the tool down on the kitchen counter and walks to the living room. He absentmindedly removes a feather from your hair like you hadn’t just met moments ago. “I can see that, boys. But it was two against one. How is that fair?”

The boys look at each other and shrug. “Uncle B, will you be on my team?” Cass asks with a smile that’s missing a front tooth. AJ groans, “Aww man, but she stinks at pillow fights!”

“Hey, let’s give her a chance for a rematch,” Bucky says as he hands you a couch pillow. You accept it as he pushes the coffee table out of the way, making room for a proper fight. You try not to watch the way his back muscles flex under his t-shirt. Cass and Bucky square up on one side of the living room, and AJ is on your side, using a pillow as a shield just like his Uncle Sam.

“3… 2… 1… go!” Bucky yells, and the chaos ensues. You hit Cass in the leg, he gets you back in the stomach. Bucky lets AJ pin him to the ground and smack him repeatedly in the chest and face.

“Man down!” AJ exclaims through giggles before standing up, triumphant. “I got you, Uncle B!”

Bucky fakes some heavy breathing and dusts the feathers off his shoulders, “You sure did, tough guy.” Bucky has a glint in his eye before he takes the pillow and whacks it into AJ’s side. The boys start to laugh again and start going at each other with the poor couch pillows. You plop down on the couch and watch, the night’s busy activities starting to catch up with you. The boys and Bucky form a huddle and start whispering so you can’t make out what they’re saying. Before you can make a move all three of them are coming toward you, pillows raised above their heads.

The attack is painless, and you can’t stop genuinely laughing as the boys giggle. You get a peek of Bucky between barrages and see a huge smile on his face. Your cheeks heat and you look away. You pretend they’ve killed you and lie limp on the couch.

The boys start to yell your name and shake you, still laughing. Bucky whispers to them, loudly enough for you to hear, “Maybe if you tickle her, she’ll wake up.”

You feel two sets of tiny hands on your arms and sides, digging in and tickling and you can’t help but open your eyes and laugh. Bucky is seated on the other end of the couch, watching you. You get up and get the boys both a glass of water and look at the clock.

“Ok, guys, time for bed,” you say. “Upstairs and in pajamas!” Thankfully they never fight you at bed time. They run upstairs and you turn to Bucky before walking up yourself, “It was nice to meet you. I see why Sam and Sarah speak so highly of you.”

He smiles and looks down, “Yeah, you too. I’ll let myself out.” You nod and walk up the stairs, feeling a bit unsatisfied.

The boys get into their pajamas and into their beds. After a quick story, you turn out the light. AJ is already asleep and Cass is drifting after your fun evening. You pad back down the creaky stairs slowly, ready to clean up the aftermath in the living room. You do a double take when you get downstairs. The Legos are picked up, now in the Rubbermaid container on the floor. The paper mache lions you made are sitting nicely on the coffee table which had been pushed back into the center of the living room. There wasn’t a feather in sight. You hear a creak and walk to the kitchen to see Bucky putting the pizza box in the recycling.

“Hey,” you say quietly, looking around. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No need to thank me. Want to catch the last few innings of the Mets game?” Bucky grabs two beers from the fridge and gestures to the TV. You take a beer.

“Um, yeah. Thank you,” you say with a slight blush. He makes his way to the couch and sits down, resting one arm across the back. You sit down in the middle, not too far but not too close. He turns the game on and you bring your feet up to rest underneath you. You didn’t realize how much the A/C was blasting when you were so warm from the pillow fight earlier.

“Cold?” He asks, taking a sip of his beer.

“A little,” you say, and he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and hands it to you. You smile and wrap it around yourself, feeling better. A few trapped feathers float out of the blanket, one landing on Bucky’s chest. He picks it up gently and holds it in his palm.

“Make a wish,” he says quietly, holding it up to your face. You smile and look at him, surprised by the sweet gesture. As you close your eyes to make a wish, you hear familiar giggling and your eyes snap open. Cass is standing at the foot of the stairs, peeking his head between the railings.

“Cass,” you say, “I thought you’d fallen asleep, kiddo.”

“Uncle Bucky, can I make a wish?” He asks, walking over to the couch.

“Sure, buddy,” Bucky chuckles softly, offering him the feather.

Cass closes his eyes and says his wish aloud, “I wish that Uncle Bucky would make you our Aunt.”

You and Bucky both look at each other, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks yet again, but Bucky doesn’t stop looking at you. You turn your gaze to Cass and smile, “It’s time for bed, buddy. You need me to tuck you in again?”

“No,” he says, shuffling back up the stairs. “G’night.”

“Night!” You both say in unison. You turn your eyes back to the baseball game, willing the blush in your cheeks to disappear. Bucky mutes the TV and turns to you.

“Some wish,” he mutters with a smirk.

“Kids. They say the darndest things,” you joke as Bucky puts his arm around you. “What’re you doing?” You ask as you lean into him, relishing in his warmth.

“Working on making that wish come true,” he whispers, turning the game back on and pulling you close.

🪶

[lizzy019]

𝒲𝑒'𝓇𝑒 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈.

Sub!Johnny Cade x Soft Dom!Fem!Reader

cw -> best friends to lovers trope lol, masturbation, underweight mentioning (Johnny), panty smelling :((, voice kink?, dub-con, cunnilingus, THIS GIRL STROKES HIS COCK! (yes pls on my knees)

Word Count -> 3.9K

I LOVE THIS WHAT

Consider your friendship to be a little too closely knit together. 

Johnny spent long, consecutive hours at your place, often being the reason why your food and snacks were gone. You couldn’t blame the poor teenager, his family wasn’t ideal, but at least yours could afford food.

By the time you two were done hanging out in your living room, watching some random show that you two eventually got bored of, you found yourself serving him whatever leftovers you had in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you knew damn well that Johnny was the most un-picky dude ever to exist. He’d eat rat poisoning if he didn’t know it was rat poisoning. 

But you couldn’t help but feed him whatever he wanted because you knew he’d like himself with more meat on his bones and less bruises on his back. You couldn’t control what his parents did, but you sure could offer him the pleasure of eating a proper, healthier meal than takeout.

So now it was just you and Johnny sitting at your dining room table under the dim but soft light from over your head with two ceramic dishes filled with warm food in front of your torsos. It had a slightly concerned but slightly adorning expression as you watched Johnny eat with such vigour. You were concerned because it seemed like he hadn't eaten since the dawn of time, but it warmed your heart knowing you were giving him something he couldn’t access often.

“Slow down, you’ll choke yourself and I don’t have room to finish your meal.” You chided softly, smiling when you saw the tiniest pink flush engender onto his cheeks. 

Those shy brown eyes that could make anyone like him, he just seemed so sweet on the outside. “Hey, I’m hungry and I’m gonna eat! Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been to the hospital before, they’ll know me for sure.” Johnny muttered, slowing his eating pace to a reasonable speed. 

Ah right, the church incident.

Johnny probably hated how his back and shoulders looked now too, and with all that physio? You felt a little sympathy for him.

Your plates were soon empty after a decent chunk of time, and you pushed him a napkin to clean the mess from around his mouth with a kind smile. It wasn’t to be rude, as you’ve learned that being rude towards Johnny chips away at your friendship.

He takes it graciously while you scoop the dirtied dishes into your hands for cleaning. But after a second or two, you left the dishes in the sink. They could be cleaned later, and it was already somewhat late. So the ceramic plates coated in a sheen of leftover food residue were left in the sink while you tidied up the kitchen to appease your parents’ expectations. 

Johnny just watched you, eyes soft and the lovely brown irises being held by the sockets trailing your movements to exact perfection. Why did you have to be so elegant with how you moved, so effortless and perfectly postured? Poor boy was swooning.

“Alright, do you wanna go get ready for bed? We don’t really have a guest room or anywhere for you to rest, but you can take my bed while I take my parents’ bed?” You offered politely, that sweet benevolence lingering in your tone while you led him down the corridors of your home.

Pictures and paintings littering the walls of the hall, the occasional piece of work that caught Johnny’s attention until you opened a door leading to your bedroom. It reeked of your scent, something that had his insides tingling out of joy. He got to sleep in your room? Fuck yeah!

“Y-yeah, I can stay here for the night. Sorry for.. bargin’ into your home so quick, I just needed somewhere to stay and Dal was drunk outta his mind.” Johnny muttered softly, walking into your room with caution while he looked around.

Clothes scattered all over the floor, the countertops somewhat messy except for the desk you seem to barely use. Your bed, unkempt but oh so cozy looking, even the curtains which were halfway closed from rushing. Shoes just chucked about anywhere there was room, a bra littered near your hamper which he could only assume was you trying to take it off late at night before heading to bed.

But he could smell you everywhere in this room, and it sent his senses ablaze.

“That’s alright, Dally does tend to have some poor habits. Anyway, I’ll be in the shower tidying myself up, you holler if you need anythin’, y’hear?” You smiled wide, toothy grin making him smile too.

Johnny nodded, watching you leave and close the door behind you. Your soft pitter-pattering footsteps that trailed down the halls until you closed another door which he presumed was the bathroom door.

The hardening sensation being squeezed within the confines of his denim pants was getting hard to ignore, but he felt so wrong for it. But good lord, he could smell it. Smell you. The redolent, fragrant smell of you that seemed to linger no matter where he stuck his nose just drove him up the wall to pure heaven.

Meanwhile, you were just having yourself a warm shower, washing off the grime from today as well as the bit of grease you used to slick your hair out. That took the most time, you had to scrub with such authority that you were sure you had lost enough hair to re-fur a hairless cat.

The soft soap you used was being lathered onto your skin, cleansing it and replenishing what it had lost during the day. You couldn’t lie, night showers were some of the best showers after a long day.

It didn’t take long for you to finish washing your body before you hopped out of the shower to dry off. The towel now warm from the steamy, hot shower was practically a cherry on top when you patted yourself dry with it. All the little uneven droplets being soaked up by the towel’s fabric to leave you dry and soft afterward.

Johnny was hiding away in your room, stripped down only with his boxers while his hand greedily pumped at his cock, a hand grasping at the pair of panties he managed to snag from your room and stuffing them at his face to get a whiff of what your pretty cunny smelled like. He felt so wrong for doing this, he was your best friend!

Johnny instantly stopped when he heard the soft tip-taps of your feet trudging towards your room, and he used the blankets to half cover himself so his boner wouldn’t be too prominent or easy to see. He also stuffed the underwear beside his thigh away from view before muttering a medium decibel, “Come in.”

You did just that, scurrying yourself into your room you found Johnny relaxing in while you scavenged your closet for proper night clothes such as a pyjama or even an oversized shirt with some shorts. Poor Johnny was just about to go insane when he saw you bend over, the sweet sight of your ass peeking through to his line of sight.

You had to have been tempting him, right? Right?

Once you had selected what you planned on wearing for the night, you looked back over in his direction to properly wish him a good night and good dreams until you paused to look at him further.

His ribcage was in full view, the bones prominent but you couldn’t find it in you to be disgusted or revolted by the sight. The soft brown skin of his, perfect in its glory asides the bruising and scarring which you’d come to understand was his insecurity. But he seemed tense, almost fearful and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Johnnycakes? Are you okay? You look stiff, is something wrong?” You asked sweetly, innocently.

How was he not supposed to nut to just that benevolent tone you held?

Johnny gave a hesitant nod, shooting one of his sweet grins that displayed his teeth to you. You could only smile back, finding his little radiant expression to mirror onto yourself and make you do the same. But it was late, you shouldn’t stay up for chit-chatting.

“Alright, you know where I am if you need me, right? Down the hall, last room. Knock if something’s wrong.” You hummed, scampering off with your clothes in hand.

The soft click of the door when it closed rang through the silence, emitting a pitch that resonated and lingered far longer than it had to, followed by the tippy-taps of your feet against the floorboards as you rushed to your parents’ room. 

Finally!

He dug his hand back under the blanket, finding his hardened cock growing a bit flaccid, and he frowned. Poor Johnny had a good rhythm going too! He fisted his cock once again, pumping mercilessly as the echoes of your voice from that simple moment when you waltzed your way in.

It wasn’t long until he was fighting himself to not make any sounds, but he began to lose his control as soon as he gained it when the muscles surrounding the base of his cock began to twitch and tighten to signal his release was upcoming. 

The dim lights from the midnight blue sky shone through your half open bedroom curtains, pushing past the glass to shine into the room Johnny sat in. This was all the light he needed to see the pair of panties in his hand, and that dirty, filthy mind of his began to simply picture you in them and nothing more.

The lovely shape of your body, its colour and form, the little markings that made you so individual and unique. Perfect set of tits, nicest ass that looked just about sculpted by angels. You were just so perfect, how could he not want you? How could he not want to have you?

Meanwhile, you were sitting with a disgusted look on your face as you heard the soft but audible noises Johnny was making from down the hall, but once you heard your name tumble from his lips, everything seemed to fade into a realization which led to hope. Did he like you like that too?

Soon enough, your own hand drifted to the soft pair of lips being freed from the confines of your panties, rubbing your unhardened clit with vigour. The tingling sensation burned in between your thighs, and you too found it hard to remain silent, but you managed. Johnny’s sounds from your room simply added fire to the ever growing flame building within your lower stomach.

Poor Johnny was clawing at the fabrics of your bed’s sheets, gasping and heaving while soft whimpers and groans seemed to slip his closed, pursed lips. It aggravated him, but he still thought you were asleep and he didn’t wish to wake you.

Boy, was he wrong.

By the time Johnny had set off his load onto whatever fabric you had around —which you couldn’t bear to think was now stained by his cum—, you hobbled your uneasy legs out of bed and down the long corridors of your home. Your steps were as silent as you could make them, but the skin on the soles of your feet now warm from staying under the blanket made the softest sticky sound that alerted Johnny.

He sat upright in a flurry of panic, inevitably settling on stuffing himself under your blankets when he heard the door slowly creak open. Maybe you’d leave?

“Johnny?” Your whispery tone got his focus, even though he tried hard not to shuffle or move around to alert you. “Johnny, are you awake?” You tried again.

When you finally thought that he was asleep and wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, you hobbled yourself beside him under the blankets and tenderly rubbed at his back. Your nimble fingers grazed the skin of the burn scars and bruises oh so gently, his heart filling with warmth that made blood pump down in between his thighs.

You were oblivious to it, moving yourself to use his thigh as something to grind against for purchase and friction. It was selfish, it was improper, but you needed it. Lord, you could feel yourself soaking his boxers from some simple grinding against him.

Poor Johnny didn’t know how to tell you he was awake, and in all honesty, maybe he shouldn’t. If he told you, or moved even a bit, you’d become startled and embarrassed to the point where you couldn’t speak and you both knew of this well. You weren’t great at handling your embarrassment.

Those soft moans tumbling freely from your lips were like a tease, something to tempt him to see if he would break. His cock was chubbing up at your dulcet noises, and he didn’t know whether they were somewhat soothing or a bit too erotic for his liking. Regardless, he tried to subtly move his hand to that aching spot between his legs for release.

You assumed his movement was involuntary like any person would do in their sleep. Adjustments to get comfortable weren’t uncommon, so you paid no mind to it and just kept at it. Surely you had stained the hem of his boxers with your arousal juices. But you weren’t focused on that!

But it wasn’t until the movements became consistent and they weren’t your own that you began to grow nervous. Had you made him uncomfortable? Was something hurting him? Maybe he had woken up? Oh, that thought sent a sharp shiver down your spine. You were scared that he had woken up and had gotten all flustered, maybe even trying to move away with the inability to wriggle you off.

So tentatively, you moved your weight off of his body, using what little arm strength you had in you at the moment to see what was happening below you. Johnny stopped almost instantly, trying to play it off like he wasn’t just jacking off to the way you were using his body. Would this be considered non-consensual? No, he liked it very much, so why were you hesitating on continuing?

“Johnny, I know you’re awake. Did I bother you? ‘M sorry, Johnnycakes, jus’ needed you..” You hummed, nuzzling your cheek to his boney shoulder to feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of his tanned skin. “Oh, but what’ll the others think?”

When you jostled him to show you knew he wasn’t asleep, Johnny allowed himself to turn over to face you and sighed happily. There you were, all pretty with your embarrassed pink cheeks and your pouty expression. Did you even understand how gorgeous you were to him? Even when he first met you, he swore you were sent from the heavens.

“Sugar, don’t worry ‘bout the others. Dal’s secretly been tellin’ Two that we were a thing anyway. I don’t mind it, would your family be okay with it?” His serene voice that wafted tobacco to your nose had confirmed just about everything you were thinking. So he liked you back, and the glances at your breasts during visits wasn’t just because he couldn’t make eye contact with you.

“I don’t care what my parents say, but your parents.. what’ll they do to you if they find out? You know that keepin’ it a secret won’t do us any good.” You murmured, a hand of yours gently holding his hip and caressing the skin while tracing the outline of protruding bone.

That had Johnny’s eyes forming hearts. Did you really think ahead of everything just to make sure he was gonna be alright? Good lord, he knew he was making the right choice.

“Ah, what’s a couple more bruises? I’ll be able to ditch them eventually, maybe move somewhere with you. How ‘bout that? We’d move far away from Tulsa, maybe somewhere warmer. No more Socs, no more fights, hell, I’d love to get rid of my cigs. I hate my teeth all yellow.” Johnny hummed at the thought of doing everything he listed off before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

It started intimately, just two idiots mindlessly kissing with smiles mashed together while fingers entangled into each other’s hair. Soft and meaningful, purposeful movements that were well thought out and calculated until Johnny moved his hips to show you what you had started. That hardening length slick with some pre-cum, and you moved your hand down to grip it and stroke it while adjusting.

Your body was now hovering over his, lips still intertwined while you wriggled off whatever clothes acted as a burden to what you were seeking. The hindrances you considered fabric to sheath your body were off of you in mere seconds, your body pulling away from his to throw your shirt off. Soon, your mouth found purchase against the soft muscle of his neck, desperately suckling some little hickeys into his flesh.

Painless bruises that expressed your affection. What was more beautiful than that? 

The soft little squeaks of moans that tumbled freely from Johnny’s pretty mouth just egged you on. Your hand fisting his cock mercilessly, milking him for all he’s got while showering him in soft praises. He deserved this kind of love, soft and sweet with just enough roughness to have you craving more.

“Yeah, baby? Feels good? You can take it, you got it.” You lulled him, pressing innocent kisses to wherever you could reach your lips, listening to the sheets rustle beneath you as Johnny wiggled around.

Sprawled out while desperately grasping the blankets and sheets below him, he found himself teetering off of that perfect ledge of ecstasy that was exposed to him. He was so close to that pleasurable place of heaven on Earth, and he was worried you wouldn’t let him cum. He hated edging.

But you didn’t. Your expression seemed to anticipate his climax, and that further had the coil connecting his lower stomach and the base of his cock to tighten and tighten until he simply couldn’t take it.

A cry that was so obviously forced to be squeezed quiet had alerted you just a few seconds before his climax that he was cumming. Sure enough, his pretty, pearly cum trickled down from his urethra and onto your soft skin, the liquid creating a thin sheen over your flesh.

The aftershocks of his body instantly made you become more sweet, hands resting on either side of his waist while gently caressing the warmed brown skin of his. Poor Johnny was rattling more than a damn Mexican maraca. Shudders made him all electric, but he soon found your hands gently holding his hips, and that grounded him.

“W-wait, I don’t think I can go again, sugar. Maybe.. get on toppa me?” He asked so sweetly, so pleasantly as if you’d say no.

You were practically stunned speechless at his words, pondering for a moment before inevitably answering his plea. Johnny adjusted instantly when he saw the soft nod of your head, and you could only giggle at his ecstatic expression. Happy, just like how he deserved to feel.

Your legs were quickly situated over his head, and with nervous hands, you combed through the soft locks on his scalp. Ungreased and silky, it soothed you enough.

“What if I’m heavy? I don’t wanna crush you.” You smiled shyly, and Johnny simply shrugged while caressing your hamstrings with tender fingers. For a greaser, you still questioned how his fingers were delicate and smooth. 

“Then I’d die happy. C’mon, it’ll be okay. How ‘bout this? If you hurt me at all, I’ll swat your legs lightly.” He offered, charming you with that devilishly sweet glint in his doe brown eyes.

You could only nod after he spoke, and you hesitantly lowered yourself onto his awaiting mouth. Nervousness caused your fingers to jitter sporadically, but you pushed through before sitting yourself onto his face. The warmth of his tongue caused a rattle to zoom up your spine like a racecar on a speedway, electrifying you.

The moans that were pulled from you just made Johnny all the more eager to please you, and he began to greedily feed off of your sweet nectar. The tangy taste of your juices were simply too addictive, could you even blame him? He didn’t know which he preferred, nicotine or your delicious wetness.

You were beginning to grind on his face, his nose nudging your clit every time you missed or got too careless. The mess of your arousal was smudging onto his chin and upper lip, but you were too dazed out to really notice anyway. Poor Johnny was about to bust again from your desperation to get a climax, but he knew cumming twice was enough for him.

His tongue slurped up any drops your cunny managed to spurt out for him, the overstimulation of your labia and clit being teased had your toes curling. You were becoming sheen with sweat, but you didn’t cease being quiet. Johnny was simply slurping you up like a snack, and you took it.

The coil within your lower abdomen threatened to snap, but you couldn’t sum up the strength to get off of his mouth to save him from mess. His hands groping your ass or caressing your hammies didn’t seem to let up either, in fact encouraging you to continue.

Johnny’s tongue kept hitting all the ooey gooey spots inside of you that set all the nerves in your body ablaze, and it wasn’t long until you were teetering over the thin line of release.

“Johnny! Johnny- I’m gonna cum..! Baby, I-” Your orgasm had cut you off, your legs seizing and stopping all their movements while you thrashed about from the sheer intensity of whatever pleasure Johnny gave you.

Poor boy’s face was squished to mush, but he was so happy.

Soon, you found yourself coming back to reality, your control over your legs and you used this newfound control to get off of his face. The last thing you wanted was to crush him or suffocate him!

When you got yourself seated beside him, legs still a bit shaky, Johnny licked off whatever fluid you managed to spunk onto his face with a gleeful smile. How gross! But.. somewhat hot too. Johnny grinned at you, his teeth all crooked but so sweet on his face.

“Feel good, sugar?” He asked you, smiling all happy and pridefully. Making you cum was a big deal for him!

You chuckled softly to yourself at his words, they were suave in how he spoke. You couldn’t admit to him that it was probably the best head you’ve ever received, his ego would get too overinflated and the gang already had an overconfident Dally.

“Yes, it felt good. Thank you.” You smiled, tucking yourself under the warm blankets of your own mattress. The duvet covers felt nice on your burning skin, even if it was a bit too hot for them.

Johnny beamed, getting under the blankets with you as well before throwing his lanky arms around you. It scared you for a second as it was unexpected, but you laughed and wholeheartedly accepted his hug. Warm arms encased you, and yours wrapped around him in return.

Giggles were shared and kisses were peppered all around, even some tickles to make everything seem more lively. Johnny also wanted you to feel like you weren’t just there for some sex and nothing more.

God, you were so fucking in love.

Shoutouts to:

@outsidersstuff16 @raycravens116 @johnnycadesslut @johnnycadesmuse @johnnycakesswitch

[archangeldyke-all]

Hmmmmmmmmmm

Reader waking up to Sevika having a wet dream about her? I’m so normal about her

love this. gonna combine it this ask another ask and make it ceo sevika:

CEO SEV CEO SEV CEO SEV

men and minors dni

neither you or sevika are morning people. if it were up to the two of you, work would start around one in the afternoon. unfortunately, with sevika's job, neither of you get to sleep in often when both of you have to be at work two hours before the day starts to get ready for everyone.

once you moved in with her, you and sevika came up with a nice system to allow each of you some time to sleep in a bit on weekdays.

mondays, wednesdays, and fridays, sevika wakes up at five in the morning to make the both of you breakfast, pick out your outfits and pack your briefcases, and tidy up the house from whatever mess the two of you left behind after dinner the night before. and then, when she can put it off no longer, she'll gently wake you up at six fifteen with sweet kisses and bribes of coffee to get you out of bed.

you do the same on tuesdays and thursdays.

this morning, when the alarm blared, sevika grunted and kicked you awake.

you chuckled as you slammed the alarm, then kissed her head, snuck out from her grasp, pulled the blankets back up around her, and headed to the kitchen to start the day.

you made breakfast, brushed your teeth, dressed yourself, then picked out a nice outfit for sevika that not-so-subtly matches your own outfit.

and now, you're balancing a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of coffee in one hand as you tip toe back to the bedroom to wake up your wife.

"babyyyy..." you sing, setting the food down on her nightstand table.

sevika's responding grumble is not the typical responding grumble you get most early mornings. it's... needier.

you gulp as you turn back around to study your wife where she lay, blankets tucked under her chin, body obscured beneath the mountain of fluffy blankets on your bed. there's a little furrow between her brow, and her eyes are moving rapidly under her eyelids, her eyelashes twitching against her cheek.

suddenly, sevika gasps, her whole body going taut-- and then she sighs a pretty "ahh" as she relaxes against the mattress again.

oh, fuck. sevika's having a wet dream.

you stare in disbelief, not sure what to do with yourself. do you wake her up and not mention the tiny whimpers she's letting out right now?

"sh-shit, baby." sevika whimpers.

well, now you can't ignore it. it's not just some random wet dream, she's dreaming about you.

you bite your lip, then reach out and grab the corner of the blankets, slowly peeling them away from her body.

sevika slept shirtless, clad only in boxers beneath the covers. she shivers, goosebumps popping up on the surface of her skin, her nipples hardening. you chuckle, then bite back your own whimper when you see the tent in her boxers.

"oh, honey." you coo, sympathetic. sevika's face scrunches in recognition of your voice, and you chuckle, reaching forward to gently push a few strands of her hair off her forehead. you don't want to wake her up just yet. you just want to watch her for a while.

still, you can't help but hum happily when sevika subconciously nuzzles against your hand on her face. the corners of her lips twitch up happily for just a moment at the sound, and then she's pulled back into her dream, huffing and smacking her lips at something.

you giggle again and press a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. then, you slowly straddle her waist, sure not to shift too abruptly and wake her up. you hover over her on all fours, just watching her shudder and shift beneath you. sevika grunts.

"h-harder!" she suddenly whimpers, her eyebrows pinching. you giggle.

"not even touchin' you baby." you whisper. sevika pouts in her sleep at this, and you chuckle.

"but i wan' you." she whines, her eyes still closed, her mind still off. it seems like she can hear you in her dream, though. you giggle.

"well then wake up an' you can have me. but i gotta tell you, baby, i'm happy to just sit here and watch you cum in your sleep."

sevika scowls, suddenly angry, and her hips shift enough for her cock to graze your ass. you both gasp, and then sevika growls. "wanna cum in you."

your plan to simply watch flies out the window then. now you have to touch her. "wake up." you whisper, ducking down to kiss her lips. she hums against you, but her lips remain unresponsive. "wake up sevika, don'cha wanna touch me baby?" you whisper, trailing kisses down her throat. she shivers underneath you.

you look over at the clock on your nightstand. you've got forty minutes before you need to leave for work, and if you account for the ten minutes of post-coital cuddles sevika insists upon, you need her to wake up now in order for the two of you to get to work on time.

you've only got one option.

you press one more gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, grinning at the sweet way her face scrunches and memorizing the sweet, sleepy grunts she's letting out with each intermittent twitch of her hips under you; and then you reach forward and pinch her nipples as you sit down and start grinding on her cock.

sevika bolts upright the second you do, gasping and wrapping her arms around your waist as she blinks awake. you burst into giggles.

"goodmorning." you laugh, pinching her nipples one last time before letting them go and wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

sevika's still hazy with sleep, blinking at you with wide, owlish eyes as she tries to catch up with what's happening. you give her a second to collect herself, then start grinding on her again. she growls.

"you were havin' a dream about me. i was just gonna dream-land-me get you off and watch you cum in your pants, but you two started havin' too much fun and i got jealous." you explain.

sevika's lips twitch up at the side as she starts to understand, and her hands find your hips, starting to grind you against her cock. you both moan.

"how long do we got?" she asks, her voice still raspy with sleep. your cunt pulses at the sound of it.

"ten minutes to fuck, ten minutes to cuddle, ten minutes to get ready and ten minutes to eat." you say. sevika grins.

"i can work with that." she chuckles. then, she flips both of you, pinning you to the bed and quickly stripping you of the clothes you'd just put on. you giggle, reaching up to thread her finger through her hair.

"tell me about your dream." you request. sevika grins.

"can't remember it all. one second i was eating you out on the conference table in the middle of the meeting, then you were fingering me in some underwater cave?" she asks, scrunching her face as she tries to interpert her dream. you giggle. "i think you were a mermaid." she says, her face pinched as she tries to recall the quickly fading memory.

you laugh, lifting your hips to help her pull your bottoms off. when she's got you naked, she starts kissing up your legs, headed toward your cunt. you sigh, relaxing against the mattress. "how does mermaid sex even work?" you ask.

she chuckles against your thigh, then pokes her head up from between your legs to speak. "you were fingering me, babe, it didn't matter." she explains. then, she dives face first into your cunt.

you gasp, and sevika wastes no time getting you soaking wet and ready for her cock.

you guys fuck on a time-crunch more often than not, and sevika's got working you up down to an art. she's slobbery and messy, groaning against your cunt like this is her breakfast, sucking your clit so hard it makes you see stars, and only letting go when your legs start to shiver, just to duck down and start fucking your hole with her tongue.

"sevika, c'mon." you whine, tugging her hair. she giggles, pulls away and pops two of her fingers in her mouth, smirks at the way you whine, and then shoves them both in your cunt with no warning.

you gasp. "fuck!" sevika finds your g-spot with no effort, pressing against it on each pass as she slurps at your clit. "fuck, sev, get inside me baby, i wanna cum on your cock."

sevika shivers at your words, and she presses one final kiss to your cunt before pulling away and shoving her boxers around her thighs. you make grabby hands at her as she crawls up your body and lines herself up with your cunt.

you reach down and help her find your hole, and both of you gasp when she starts to push in. "fuck." sevika curses. "shit, thank you for wakin' me up baby." she whines as she waits for you to adjust and give her the go ahead. you giggle, and sevika smiles at the sound.

"better than the mermaid?" you ask. sevika barks a laugh, then swoops down to kiss you.

"much better." she whispers against your lips.

"good answer. gonna fuck me now?"

sevika gives you one quick harsh thrust and you squeak. she smirks cockily down at you. "sure you're ready?" she asks.

you snort, then smack her ass. "c'mon babe, we got five minutes. get to it."

sevika kisses you one more time, and then starts fucking you like her life depends on it.

the gentle sounds of morning birds singing outside are quickly drowned out by wet squelching noises, the rhythmic smacking of sevika's hips against your thighs, and your shared moans.

"fuck fuck fuck, baby, 'm not gonna last." sevika whines in your throat. you reach between the two of you to pinch her nipple, giggling when she jolts. "fuck off! don' make me cum!"

"you're my wife, baby, that's like, half my job." you tease, nibbling her earlobe like you know she loves. she whines.

"cut it out! fuck are you gonna do when i cum before you and we gotta get to work before you can finish?" she asks. you consider this, then shove your free hand down between your bodies to rub your clit, your hold on her tit not lessening as you do. sevika half-laughs half-growls. "fucker." she says fondly.

you grin up at her. "come on, cum inside me, i wanna feel it, sev. fuck, i'll put my panties right back on, keep your cum inside me all day. you can clean up the mess when we get home--"

sevika growls, sinks her teeth into your throat, and cums deep inside you. it tips you over the edge.

you gasp at the feeling, giggling as you cum around her cock, satisfaction flooding your body as you fall apart to the feeling of your wife falling apart inside you. "fuck, sev, just like that, good girl, i fuckin' love you!" you laugh.

sevika's tiny thrusts die down as your shaking thighs settle, and she collapses on top of you sighing. you nuzzle against her hair, kissing her scalp. "i love you too." she mumbles. you smile.

"ten minutes, babe. then we gotta go." you remind her, knowing she's tempted to fall asleep. she grunts.

it's quiet for a while, just the gentle sound of your fingers scratching her scalp and the birdsong outside. you wordlessly pass sevika her plate, feeding her bites of eggs as she rests on your tits. she kisses your chest in thanks between each bite.

and then: "were you serious about keepin' my cum in you all day?" she asks. you giggle.

"sure was. when you pull out, if you're quick, you can pick which panties i use to soak you up all day." you bribe. sevika growls and then looks up at you with sparkling eyes.

"we should do this every morning." she says.

you burst into laughter.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

[m00nchildwrites]

Idk if this is a hot take, but it is definitely an unpopular opinion in the fandom, but...

Rafayel Wants Kids

A drabble, think piece.

Rafayel would want to be a father. Not right away. But, once him and MC finally FINALLY are able to get married again and everything is fine. The world doesn't crumble, and she isn't stolen away from him again.

And they have their honeymoon. The first one ever. And it's perfect and filled with love and passion and- she is still there. The next morning, he awakes to see her sleeping, hair a mess from their love making the night before. His heart flutters in his chest. His breath sputters as relief fills him because... he was almost expecting her to not be. Because there was this horrid fear that laid dormant in his chest, still, had since he first lost his beloved bride, that told him that he'd never truly have her- or at least- not for long. But, she was still there.

And she was there again the next morning. And the next. And even after the honeymoon, she was there at their home after work, and on their shared off days, and on days when his inspiration dried like the ancient seas, and a happy days. Oh, those happy days. They seemed more and more like happy days. Days filled with laughter and kisses and popcorn nights and cuddles and laundry days and- that monstrous thing in his chest loosened it's coil just slightly. It quieted it's hissed warnings, just barely. And Rafayel breathes deeply.

Months pass. They go to see his aunt perform in Paris, the city of lovers. Perfect for them. Perfect for her, his beloved bride smiling as she twirls under his arm as they stop to dance while street performers croon lyrics of love. And that night, after the show, maybe Talia would ask if they are planning to have children soon. A seemingly harmless ask, but MC sees how Rafayel stops breathing and that distant pained look flickers in his eyes, so she intertwines her fingers with his and gives Talia a smile, "Not yet. We want to enjoy each other for a while first." "Smart girl," Talia winks. And that's the end of the question for a while.

And Rafayel breathes, the coil in his chest unwinding a bit. Still, it watches quietly, waiting still. Prepared, just in case. But then his eyes and ears and hands and lips are full of her, her, her, as they tangle in the hotel sheets, and she whispers, "I love you, my husband, my Rafayel," into his ear. And that coil loosens once more, shrinks from a great big, scary thing to a shadow, a whisp of what it once was.

When their 1 year anniversary rolls around, to his amazement, MC is still there. She still greats him when he wakes each morning. Her guns still grace the dresser top in their shared bedroom. Her singing still fills his home- their home- when she busies herself cooking a meal for the pair of them or tidying up a few of their coats left like a trail from the front door. She is still there.

And he is so damn happy. So happy, he feels like his chest could burst because this is the most he had ever gotten of her. The most they have ever gotten at a forever. It makes the coil in his chest- that always laid in wait for the pain and agony to come- relax a bit and slip into a slumber.

And then, a few months later, a coworker of MC's at a work party makes a comment. The kind of comment people often make of happy, young, handsome couples, "You two are going to make the cutest kids!" He freezes as they continue. "It was so smart waiting a while, enjoy being together first. Do you think you'll try soon?"

He feels MC step slightly forward, in front of him, an unconscious move on her part. Always protecting him, his eternal Miss Bodyguard. His heart swells, and he wraps an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. She looks up startled with her big beautiful eyes, questioning, hesitating, but he sees it. That glimmer. That swirl of hope of a future she must have always kept hidden from him. A secret longing. And suddenly, he can see it too, as she must have pictured in her mind secretly. A little pudgy version of her and him looking up at him with those same eyes MC is staring ip at him with then, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat because, by the seas, he never allowed himself to dream that far ahead. Never dared to hope they'd get here. But they are.

And he loves her so fucking much. And he desperately wants to give her it all. Hell, he'd give her a whole brood of kids. A whole school of guppies, if she wished. Whatever she wanted. Whatever she'd allow. Little hims and little hers running around, making finger paintings and collecting shells and filling their home with squeals of laughter-

"Raf?" Her angelic voice calls him back.

His breath is shaky, but his smile is blinding as he answers the question at last, never taking his eyes off the love of all his lives, "Perhaps, we will."

The way MCs eyes lit up and she raises to press a kiss to his cheek hits him like the sun on a perfect beach day.

And that coil that lived in his chest for 30 millenia? It turned to dust, washed away in the sands. In it's place, peace settled, warm and serene.

He had finally done it. He had made it through the storms, had reached the shores, with her hand in hand. Their footsteps would leave a matching pair off into the perfect pink of the setting sun. He and his beloved bride, and maybe soon, a few little guppies by their sides.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘌𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader | Sinister!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Violence, abuse, language

Genres: Angst with an inkling of romance and hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2,489

Synopsis: You’ve been in a relationship with Sinister!Mark for years, coming with him from his original universe into the main timeline along with all the other variants. Since coming to this universe however the dynamics of your relationship have changed, Sinister!Mark becoming more distant and cruel, not showing you any form of affection or appreciation outside of rough sex. Mohawk!Mark was in love with the you from his own universe, but in his timeline you died as a casualty of war (a similar fate to the you from the main timeline). Now that he sees you again in this new, main universe he’s captured by you but also unsure of how to handle things since you are with Sinister. After catching Sinister with two other women, you call Mohawk Mark for some form of comfort. The comfort turns to sex and Sinister Mark finds you two the next morning.

a/n: when i started this series i was imagining it to be ending by part seven but it seems like there’s still some story left to tell, hope y’all don’t mind if i just keep cooking 😶

ALSO M.U. Mark is referring to Main Universe Mark and as a reminder M.Mark is Mohawk Mark while S.Mark is Sinister

→ Part Seven ←

S.Mark's steps were heavy as he approached your house. His mind had been a whirlwind ever since he left that club with those two women, but there was no way he could focus on any of that right now. No, the one thing consuming his thoughts was you.

He had tried to call, sent texts, but you hadn’t answered. The silence on the other end of his messages had gnawed at him more than he'd care to admit.

He stood on the porch for a moment, fingers flexing around the door handle. There was an unfamiliar stillness in the air, and something felt... off. His instincts were telling him to be cautious, but he shook it off and knocked sharply at the door. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time, a slight frustration building in his chest. Where were you? Why wasn't the door opening?

In frustration he gripped the knob harder, twisting it until it broke and the door swung gentle open.

His eyes scanned the dimly lit interior. The mess was immediate—empty wine glasses scattered across the floor, discarded clothes tossed carelessly across the furniture. His brow furrowed, and his pulse quickened. This wasn’t like you. You were always tidy, always put together. The place was in complete disarray.

He entered slowly, the tension in his body palpable as he stepped further into the living room. He could smell the faint odor of alcohol in the air, a sign of the way you had likely spent your night. But where were you?

He stepped deeper into the house, following a trail of discarded things as his senses began to sharpen. He could hear the faint thrum of two heartbeats, distinct and steady, echoing from the direction of your bedroom. His muscles tensed.

He didn’t need to think twice. He was already halfway down the hallway before he even realized what he was doing. His heart hammered in his chest, a primal instinct kicking in as he reached the door.

Without warning, he pushed it open.

And there you were.

You were asleep in the bed, but you weren’t alone. Another man—another man—was curled beside you, tangled in the sheets, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. S.Mark’s blood ran cold.

A growl of disbelief escaped his lips. His eyes locked on the mass of a body hidden beneath the covers as he felt a wave of rage flood over him, sharp and searing.

The anger roared inside him. How fucking dare you?

Sinister Mark’s breath came out in a low hiss as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His pulse pounded in his ears. What the hell was this?

You stirred just then, your body shifting beneath the sheets, and S.Mark’s eyes snapped back to you. He saw your face, peaceful in sleep, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside him. His gaze flicked back to the man—the intruder—and that was when it happened. The rage surged, taking control. He didn’t think, he just acted.

S.Mark crossed the room in a flash, yanking the man up by the throat and slamming him against the wall. He stood frozen for a moment, his chest tightening as he realized who the other man was: M.Mark. That motherfucker. The one who always seemed to just be around, lingering in the shadows of your life. And now here he was, in your FUCKING bed, with you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my bed?" he growled, the words dripping with fury as his hand tightened around M.Mark's throat.

M.Mark, his eyes still clouded with sleep and confusion, swung a punch, hitting S.Mark’s ribs. The blow didn’t do much, but it was enough to snap him out of his bloodlust for a second.

“Get off me!” M.Mark grunted, gripping onto S.Mark’s wrist so tightly it was a miracle it wasn’t crushed.

The fight erupted in an instant. S.Mark snapped back into motion, launching a vicious punch towards his face but M.Mark was too quick, ducking low and using the momentum to push him back.

You jolted awake at the sound of the crash, your heart racing in your chest. You blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding before your eyes. The room was spinning.

“Stop it!” you screamed, pushing yourself out of the bed, your legs weak beneath you. But your voice was lost in the storm of fists and curses. You watched in horror as they collided again, throwing each other against walls and furniture.

S.Mark's eyes were wild, his gaze never leaving M.Mark as he lunged again, narrowly missing his target. “You think you can take my place? You think you can just waltz in here like you fuckin’ own the place?!” His voice was low, menacing, filled with pure, unrelenting rage.

M.Mark gritted his teeth, wiping the blood from his lip, and lunged back, shoving S.Mark against the doorframe. “I’m not the one who left her crying!” he shot back, his voice full of accusation.

S.Mark growled, but he didn’t have time to respond before MMark shoved him again, sending him crashing to the ground.

You felt yourself trembling as the scene unfolded in front of you. The two men you cared about the most were fighting like animals, driven by a blind rage, and you had no idea how to make it stop.

“Please—stop!” you shouted again, your voice breaking as you stumbled toward them. Just as you came within touching distance S.Mark whipped around and, with no hesitation, knocked you back with a brutal swat of his arm.

You crashed onto the bed with a sickening thud, your head spinning and your breath stolen from your lungs. You gasped for air, trying to recover, but the pain hit too fast. Your body felt like it was made of glass, shattering under the weight of everything happening around you.

S.Mark didn’t even look at you as he turned back to his counterpart. But the sight of you on the bed—hurting, helpless—seemed to snap something inside M.Mark. A primal fire ignited in his eyes, overwhelmed with a guttural rage.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” M.Mark roared as launched himself at S.Mark, the room shaking under their impact. Their fists collided in total brutality, the air splitting and collapsing back in on itself from the force. They were no longer just fighting—they were fighting for their pride, for you, for everything. They had crossed the line. This wasn’t just a fight; it was an all-out war.

S.Mark’s fury was unbridled. He fought with the same wild determination that had pushed him to tear down everything in his path in his own universe. But M.Mark was every bit his equal—stronger than he’d ever expected, with a rage that seemed to rival his own.

The room was a blur of movement. Punches, kicks, bodies crashing into furniture, each strike sending shockwaves through the walls. The fight was a hurricane of violence, with no sign of slowing down.

You tried to push yourself up, but your body refused to obey, your limbs heavy and useless as you watched them tear each other apart. Your heart shattered as you realized: this was all your fault.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like hours, a never-ending torrent of rage and violence crashing down around you. But it was more likely only a few minutes—minutes that felt like a lifetime. Every sound, every crash, every grunt of pain hit you like a drum, each beat reverberating through your chest. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, not even as your heart pounded in your ears.

S.Mark and M.Mark were no longer just two men fighting. They were forces of nature, clashing like gods. Their rage had taken on a life of its own, and you could do nothing to stop it. You could barely think straight. The pain, the anger, the chaos, it all swirled around you like a whirlpool pulling you deeper. You couldn’t make sense of it. All you could do was watch in horror.

Then, in the midst of it all, you heard it. A voice—familiar but calm—cut through the chaos.

“Enough!”

It was this universe’s Mark. The moment he spoke, everything seemed to freeze. The air went still.

Before S.Mark or M.Mark could even process what was happening, Omni-Mark was there too—faster than either of them could react. He moved with precision, grabbing S.Mark by the arms and pulling him back, restraining him with an iron grip. S.Mark snarled, thrashing against his hold, but Omni-Mark was unyielding.

“Stay down,” Omni-Mark said, his voice low but commanding. He was a force of calm in the storm, and it was enough to get S.Mark to stop resisting—at least for the moment.

Simultaneously, Lensless Mark appeared, swift and almost seeming thrilled by it all. He was on M.Mark in a blink, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him away from the fray. M.Mark was still seething, his fists clenched and eyes blazing with fury, but Lensless Mark’s grip was like iron. He didn't give him an inch.

“Damn dude! I didn’t think you’d do all this,” Lensless Mark laughed, but his hold on his counterpart still unwavering.

The room fell into a tense silence. The fighting had stopped, but the air still buzzed with the aftermath. Your heart was pounding, your whole body shaking from the adrenaline and the fear of what you’d just witnessed. You felt a weight in your chest, an overwhelming sense of guilt and sorrow that pressed down on you. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how to make sense of any of it.

It was then that this universe’s Mark seemed to notice you, his eyes softening the moment they locked with yours. And despite the chaos around him, he moved toward you with a grace that was all his own. He kneeled beside you, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing over your trembling arm. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at anyone right now. You felt too broken. Too responsible. This was all your fault.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracked and small. “I didn’t mean for this. I never wanted this to happen... It’s all my fault.”

M.U. Mark’s eyes softened with understanding as he leaned closer to you, his warm hand gently cupping your face. His touch was soothing, grounding, like a lifeline in the storm of your emotions.

“No, it’s not your fault,” he said firmly, his voice quiet but full of certainty. “None of this is on you.”

But the guilt kept gnawing at you. You couldn’t let go of it. You shook your head, trying to push him away, even as you felt the weight of his touch comfort you. “But I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve... done something before it got this far. I—”

M.U. Mark placed a finger gently over your lips, silencing your self-blame. “Shh. You don’t need to apologize.” His voice was calm, steady, like the eye of a storm. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

He pulled his hand away to place two fingers to his ear piece, his voice still steady despite the obvious turmoil in the room. “Cecil, we need medical attention here, immediately. She’s hurt.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, your breath hitching as you clutched at his sleeve. “Please,” you whimpered, “I never wanted any of this. I never wanted anyone to get hurt I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry….”

“Don’t apologize,” M.Mark interjected, his voice rough but his eyes filled with pain. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t need to apologize for a damn thing.” Your stare darted to him, vision still blurred from the tears.

“I love you,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”

You felt your chest tighten as you processed his words, the sheer honesty of them sinking deep into you.

M.U. Mark gave a soft, understanding look toward M.Mark before turning his attention back to you. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze. "You just need to relax," he said softly, his voice calm but filled with warmth. "Everything’s going to be okay, I promise."

You felt like you were sinking under the weight of everything, looking at M.U. Mark who’s expression was gentle yet reassuring, trying to give you a kind of smile that said everything would be okay.

And then there was M.Mark. His eyes were filled with a desperation, a longing that made your heart ache. His expression was open, raw—he only wanted to hold you. You could see it in the way his hands twitched, the way his muscles tensed as he strained against Lensless Mark’s hold. He was fighting himself, fighting the urge to just rush to you, to make everything okay again. And it wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about possession. It was about love. True love.

Finally, you glanced toward S.Mark.

He stood across the room, his body stiff with rage, but his eyes weren’t on you. He wouldn’t even look at you. His entire focus was fixed on M.Mark, the sheer hate in his gaze making it clear—this was his world, his possession. You were just a prize, a thing to be controlled, to be owned.

And that’s when it hit you.

In this universe, you had an option. You could be loved. Truly loved. Not owned. Not controlled. Loved for who you were, for everything you were.

You looked back at M.Mark, and for the first time, you thought you understood what real love felt like. The kind of love that didn’t cage you. The kind of love that gave you freedom, the kind that made you feel whole instead of broken. His words, his actions—they spoke louder than anything S.Mark had ever done. It wasn’t about possession. It was about care. About wanting to be there for you, not trying to control you.

You met M.Mark’s gaze and felt something inside you click. You could feel the tenderness in his eyes, the sincerity that wrapped around you like a protective shield. This was what love was supposed to feel like.

M.U. Mark gave you another soft smile, but it was M.Mark’s gaze that anchored you. And as you looked back at S.Mark—his unyielding coldness, his refusal to acknowledge you—you knew, deep down, what your heart had been trying to tell you all along.

You didn’t have to settle for a love that didn’t let you breathe. You didn’t have to stay in a place that only saw you as an object.

For the first time, you felt free.

And it was terrifying. But it was also beautiful. And real.

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→ Part Nine ←