#and not just the ones that were already covered in DARE

[oxbellows]

Welcome Home! Nothing Weird Happened.

Written based on @emilybeemartin's spectacular Boromir Lives AU comics, with permission. I might write more, who knows.

My whole thought process here is this: if Boromir lives and makes it back to Minas Tirith, he is about to receive an absolutely ludicrous quantity of bad news. And I for one think it would be both plausible and hilarious for Pippin to be the one who ends up delivering that news. So here we are!

Trigger warnings for that whole pyre situation from Return of the King.

 It was fitting, to Boromir’s mind, that the battle for Minas Tirith should be decided by dead men. So many had died for the city of kings already, their blood seeping into her soil like rain. Why, then, should her fate rest solely in the hands of the living? An unnatural justice rang out in the clang of steel against phantom blades, heralding the return of a hope long since given up for lost. 

“None but the king of Gondor may command me,” the wraith hissed.

“You?” Boromir had roared. “You, Oathbreaker? I am the heir to the Stewards of Gondor. Generations of my kin have died for an empty throne. None but the king of Gondor may command ME. Here stands the king of Gondor before us, and you will suffer him as I have!”

And suffer him they did. Sickly green washed over the last armored oliphaunt as the dead claimed more souls for their own. Boromir pulled his eyes away from the spectacle and spun his sword in his hand, scanning the area around him for the next foe. He found none. Only the backs of retreating orcs, and weary Men attending to their fallen brothers. That and, out of the corner of his eye, the strangest possible trio of a Man, a Dwarf, and an Elf. Finding no enemy to engage, Boromir instead turned his step toward the strange trio to embrace his friends in the wake of victory. 

Aragorn, king of Gondor, did not appear especially regal at the moment. He was covered in grime and gore, surrounded by the corpses of orcs left to rot in the open field. Gimli’s sturdy metal armor was slick with blood, and it dripped steadily off the edge of the axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Legolas, of course, was only as disheveled as he might have been after a short run, clean of the muck that covered the rest of them. His hair still fell properly at his shoulder, what witchcraft did the Elf use to maintain it? 

Boromir could only imagine what he himself must look like. He knew that he was damp and smelled like death, which did not bode well for a lordly appearance. Nonetheless, even in all his heavy armor Boromir felt lighter than he had since childhood. The battle was over, fought now only by those straggling beasts that had not managed to escape the field on foot. Boromir was still, impossibly, alive, and so were his companions. So was his king. 

The enemy may yet prevail, but Gondor would not fall before the White Tree bloomed again. It was more than his grandfathers had ever dared to hope. 

“Is that blood in your hair or just its natural grease?” Boromir asked his king, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and stepping over the body of a fallen orc to approach him.

Aragorn laughed, raising one dirty hand to skim his fingertips over the top of his head. “I cannot say, Captain. I only know that in either case, I would wash it before I present myself to your lord father.”

Boromir clicked his tongue dismissively. “My lord father’s not the one we have to worry about. If my brother hears that I’ve brought Isildur’s heir home in such a state, he’ll throttle me.”

He almost continued speaking. He almost added, if he’s alive. Aragorn heard the unspoken caveat all the same. His dark eyes had a softness in them when he spoke.

“The battle is over, Captain of the White Tower,” Aragorn said. “We must turn our efforts now to the dead and wounded. May we not find you kin among them.”

If the taste of ash settled on the back of Boromir’s tongue, it could be attributed to the smell of Mordor’s filthy army laying dead at his feet, and not to the terrible image that flashed across his mind’s eye of Faramir’s bloodied and unblinking face.

“My father will be well,” Boromir asserted, determined not to speculate on his brother’s wellbeing. “He is past his time as a warrior. He will have commanded our troops from a place of safety within the walls.”

Aragorn inclined his head in assent. His hair really was a sight- black blood had matted chunks of it together, and where they stood now in the open field, with the sun just beginning to peek through the enemy’s unnatural bank of shadow, Boromir could see that his clothes were in much the same state. Perhaps this was why Aragorn so persistently favored black for his travel clothes. Were he wearing any other color, it would be obvious that he was as drenched in the blood of orcs as if he had bathed in it. 

A warrior of staggering skill was this king of Men, but he preferred not to proclaim his deadliness to the world. He tucked it away into shadow until such skill was needed. Perhaps one day Boromir might look upon this man that he called brother and not be humbled by the mere sight of him. 

Perhaps. 

“I will search with a sharp eye, then, for Captain Faramir,” Aragorn promised. 

Boromir closed the distance between them to grip Aragorn’s shoulder in thanks. Aragorn returned the gesture with ferocity, digging his fingers into the mail covering Boromir’s upper arm. Gimli thumped Boromir’s back in a heavy handed gesture of approval, and Legolas bowed his head with a coy smile. A river of unspoken words passed between the four of them, about great and important things like love and fear at the end of the world, and then they released each other. Aragorn turned his stride towards the Citadel to lend his knowledge of elvish medicine to the House of Healing. Legolas and Gimli set out together to help carry the wounded into the city for aid. Boromir made for the rocky outcrop at the city’s outermost wall, the one that archers favored for its vantage point. There he was sure he would find rangers, and hopefully news of Faramir.

The walk carried him past countless dead orcs and uruk-hai, but also more dead men and horses than Boromir had ever seen on a single field. For every pair of comrades he saw embrace in giddy relief, another wail of grief reached his ears from somewhere else. His mail grew heavier with every step he took.

Boromir had scarcely made it halfway to the archer’s outpost before he was stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Captain Boromir!” a familiar voice shouted. “You live!”

Boromir stopped and whirled about. There, about ten yards from Boromir, close enough to the outermost wall to be half-concealed in its shadow, crouched a man in a forest-green cloak. His hands still hovered over a fallen Gondorian soldier, as if he had frozen partway through checking for signs of life. Before the man in green rose to stand, he brushed a hand over the fallen one’s face, coaxing his eyes shut before stepping away. Boromir felt a dull pang of grief in his already overburdened heart at the confirmation that yet another of his countrymen was dead. He had no time to acknowledge that pain, though, as the man in green righted himself fully. The green cloak, brown leather vambraces, and longbow on his back all sparked immediate recognition. 

Boromir knew this man, had met him before, but his weary mind failed to provide a name for him. It hardly mattered. The uniform he wore told Boromir everything he needed to know. Faramir had been clad exactly the same, the last time Boromir had seen him. This was one of the rangers of Ithilien, his brother’s own company. Hope swelled painfully in his chest. He hastened his step towards the ranger.

The ranger rushed to meet him and performed a quick, obligatory salute when they were close enough to speak comfortably. “My lord,” he greeted, breathless. “Your father thought you dead, but we in Captain Faramir’s company held out hope.” A wide grin split across his face. “You cannot imagine how sorely you’ve been missed!”

Seeing his smile finally dragged the ranger’s name to the front of Boromir’s memory. “Anborn,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you alive and well. Tell me, what news do you have of my brother?”

 Anborn’s smile dropped, giving way to a look of naked concern as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “I have no news, my lord, none that is not two days old at least.”

 "Then give me the old news,” Boromir pressed, trying not to snap. 

Anborn grimaced and nodded. “My lord,” he said, haltingly, “The last time I saw your brother, my Captain, was on the day he rode out to reclaim Osgiliath with a company of forty mounted soldiers.”

Boromir could only stare for a long moment, turning over Anborn’s words in his head to try and make them comprehensible. No clarity came to him. “My brother is- in Osgiliath?”

Another grimace. “If he is still there, he is dead.” Boromir’s lungs constricted and froze. Anborn continued, “Osgiliath was overrun more than a week ago. I’ve heard rumors that Faramir made it back to the Citadel, but I cannot say any more than that without inventing rumors myself.”

“The Citadel,” Boromir repeated. He forced breath into his uncooperative lungs. He would go to the Citadel, and he would find Faramir there with their father, incoherent with frustration after arguing strategy with Denethor. He turned on his heel and started walking. Anborn said something as Boromir strode away, but he didn’t hear it properly over the ringing in his ears. 

What he had heard of Anborn’s words clamored in his mind- it sounded as if Faramir had taken a company of only forty men to reclaim an overrun city. That would be absurd, though. Faramir may be prone to bouts of melancholy and brooding, but he wasn’t suicidal. And even if he did, for some reason, decide to seek his own death, he would never bring any number of Gondor’s defenders with him to do it.

 Your father thought you dead.

 Boromir broke into a run.

Faramir didn’t hold sway over all their troops’ movements. Faramir wasn’t the Steward. 

 He was moving too slowly. Stumbling to a halt, Boromir grasped at the leather straps holding his pauldrons in place and did his best to unfasten them with numb fingers. Denethor had not been the same in recent years. The shadow in the east had darkened his thoughts, day by day, and set him talking as if the end were already here. His gray eyes had glinted in a way that Boromir scarcely recognized when he’d spoken of the One Ring. He’d never favored Faramir, never encouraged him the way he deserved, but the cruelty that had colored Denethor’s every interaction with his secondborn in the year or two before Boromir left shocked him. 

Boromir’s pauldrons landed on the ground in a heap, and now he doubled over to escape the shirt of mail. It was a difficult task without taking off his sword belt, but he managed. He needed to be faster, but he could not bear to go unarmed. The chain links poured gracelessly down over his head, yanking his hair as they went, and then he was free. Boromir took off running again, now unencumbered. 

 Faramir would never plan a suicide mission. 

 Would he accept one, though, if he was ordered?

Boromir’s feet touched white marble bricks for the first time in months that had felt like decades. He did not pause. Shouts followed him as he went, calling his name or exclaiming surprise. Arches and edifices flew by overhead. Rubble littered the street. He caught glances of bodies crushed under great stones. 

Boromir made it to the stairs. His weary legs burned and protested, but he dared not slow his descent. He needed to know where Faramir was, now. He needed to know what had happened in Osgiliath, before any more ideas had the chance to take root in his head. If he finished the line of thinking that Anborn’s news had set off-

 Boromir might kill his father with his bare hands.

So, he would not stop, and he would not think, until he found answers.

 He reached the top of the stairs. 

 A small group of guards, maybe five or six, clustered together at the Citadel gate, all spoke over each other in urgent tones. Boromir could not hear most of their words over his own ragged breath, but he caught a few. He heard “Mithrandir” and “Witch King” and “wood”, and then, “Denethor.” 

“Where?” Boromir barked. Every one of the men before him startled and turned to him with unabashed fear written across their faces.

If Boromir had looked a mess back on the fields, by now he must appear absolutely deranged. Half his armor gone, hair wild, white shirt drenched with sweat and blood- he could hardly blame the unsuspecting guards for the shock and confusion they displayed so brazenly at his question. Nor could he blame himself for the urge to grab the nearest one and shake him until he spoke sense.

Fortunately for all present, the guard furthest to the left, a man of slight and youthful stature underneath his plate armor, spoke up.

“The House of Stewards,” he said, voice trembling. He pointed in the right direction. “In the tombs. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.”

 Boromir ran like he had never done in his life. 

 For what possible reason would his father and brother be in the tombs in the midst of battle?

 He threw himself against the door to the tombs of his forefathers. They gave way with no resistance, and as he stumbled through the opening, he noted that the floor was dusted with splintered wood. This door had already been broken through. There he stopped short.

He could not, for the life of him, make sense of the scene before him.

 In the center of the foyer, directly on top of Húrin’s memorial etching, were the remains of- a bonfire? Heaps of ash and charred wood covered the usually immaculate white marble floor, built up into a high, still-smoldering mound in the chamber’s center. The air reeked of smoke. Neither Denethor nor Faramir were in sight, nor was anyone else. The tombs appeared deserted.

  “Faramir?” Boromir called warily. 

A clang of metal and the scuffle of unshod feet on stone answered his call, and then-

“Boromir!”

A small form collided hard with his midsection, forcing him to take a staggering step back. Small arms wrapped around him like a vice, a familiar vice, and Boromir abruptly realized that he was in the embrace of a hobbit.

“Pippin?” he demanded, aghast.

The young hobbit turned his face up to meet his gaze and a fresh wave of panic seized him. Pippin’s face was coated in ash and streaked with tears.

“Boromir!” Pippin cried again. “You have to help, Gandalf said that healers were coming but nobody came, there was screaming in the halls so I dragged him as far as I could but he’s heavy and I don’t know where Gandalf went and just- just- come here!” 

The hobbit released his iron grip around Boromir’s waist in favor of clutching one of his wrists and started hauling him off to one side of the room, into a corridor of mausoleums. There, poking out of the nearest alcove, Boromir spied the lower half of a single black boot. 

Pippin pulled him onward when his own pace faltered. With each step he could see more of the body that Pippin had apparently tried to drag to safety. A small, or rather, hobbit-sizedsword lay carelessly discarded on the floor beneath the alcove’s arching entrance where Pippin had dropped it. That would explain the clanging sound Boromir had heard just before being tackled, then. Which would mean that when he called out, Pippin had been guarding this archway with sword in hand. 

Pippin’s relentless tugging finally forced Boromir to where he could see the stricken man on the floor.

It was Faramir.

Of course it was Faramir. 

A rough, strangled sound echoed through the quiet tombs, and Boromir only realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. Pippin darted from his side to kneel at his brother’s head, petting his hair and murmuring a soothing word. Faramir did not react in the slightest. He wasn’t dead; Boromir had seen enough dead men in his life to know with unfailing precision the difference between a dead body and a dying one.

No, his brother was not dead. He was only dying. 

Boromir dropped to his knees. 

In all this time that he had dreaded coming home and hearing that Faramir had fallen in battle, it had never occurred to Boromir that he might watch him die.

“He needs medicine,” Pippin pleaded, his little hand nestled in Faramir’s hair. Boromir now saw that the hobbit was dressed in the garb of the guards of Citadel, mail under a velvet tunic embroidered with the white tree. What had happened in his city? When had this barely-trained halfling become his brother’s last line of defense?

“Go,” Boromir rasped. He touched the hilt of his sword. “I will protect him now. Go to the House of Healing, down one level. Aragorn is there. He will listen to you.”

Without another word, Pippin took off at a sprint. Boromir and Faramir were left alone, together for the first time since Boromir had left for Rivendell. 

Boromir wanted to scream.

Instead, he maneuvered himself carefully to sit at his brother’s side. How Pippin had managed to stash Faramir away in this little nook, Boromir had no idea. He could only just find room for himself against the wall without jostling the motionless body beside him. He reached a tentative hand out to lay it on Faramir’s forehead. He paused before he touched skin, momentarily stunned by the radiating heat. When his fingers settled on his brother’s brow, it was like touching metal that had been left in the sun too long. Faramir burned. Boromir gently smoothed his hand over damp hair.

It wasn’t just Faramir’s hair that was damp, actually. It was everything on him. His short beard, the finely embroidered collar of his tunic, the silk of his sleeves. If his fever was so high, it was not so surprising to find him coated in sweat. The choice of clothes, though, was undeniably strange. There was no blood staining the fabric. Had he not been hurt in battle, then? Had he simply been taken by a violent illness? Was there a plague in the city? That might explain the lack of gore but not the presence of finery. Boromir had only ever seen Faramir wear this tunic for ceremonies. He wouldn’t have put it on before battle, and he would certainly have taken it off if he were falling ill. 

No, the only reasonable conclusion was that Faramir had not been the one to dress himself. A terrible, unspeakable suspicion wormed its way into his heart. 

Boromir almost regretted sending Pippin away without first asking him what had happened to create this bizarre tableau. Almost. His answers could wait until Faramir had been brought safely into the care of physicians. He lifted his hand to stroke Faramir’s hair again, but the slickness that clung to his palm bade him pause.

That wasn’t sweat in his brother’s hair, it was something else, something more viscous. Puzzled beyond words, Boromir brought his hand close to his face to inspect it. 

His palm was smeared with oil.

All at once, a dozen disparate fragments of information arranged themselves into nightmarish clarity.

Someone had dressed Faramir for a funeral. Someone had brought him into the place where the bones of their ancestors rested and covered him in oil. Someone had lit a bonfire in the center of the tombs. 

Not a bonfire. A pyre.

Someone had tried to burn his little brother alive.

 “No,” Boromir whispered, as if he could prevent his next thought from taking shape.

Only one person in Gondor could do any of this without being stopped.

In the tombs, the guard at the gate had said. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.

Boromir launched himself upright, out of the cramped alcove, and was sick all over the marble floor.

For the second time in a day, Pippin found himself running for someone else’s life. At least he didn’t have so far to go this time. He could not remember ever being so tired. It was also fortunate that he knew already where to find the House of Healing. Gandalf had insisted he memorize the route there as soon as he’d made his oath to Denethor, which was a bit insulting, to be honest, but turned out very useful in the end.

 The first time he’d entered the House, just a few days ago, he’d thought it was very full. Most of the rows of clean, simple cots had been occupied by rangers returning from outside the city. As he dashed through the sturdy oaken door now, though, he entered a different world entirely.

The cacophony of sound, smell and movement that surged up to meet him stopped Pippin in his tracks. The House of Healing was so crowded he could not see the far wall. He could barely see the nearest row of cots. Tall ladies rushed about in every direction, shouting orders to one another above a nauseating din of groans and cries. Pippin had been standing guard in a cloud of smoke for hours, and yet the onslaught of ugly and unfamiliar smells that accosted him here made him wish for the scent of smoke again.

His foray into the front lines of a battle had been terrifying. This place might be worse.

Boromir had said that Aragorn was here, though, and Pippin would walk headfirst into an army of orcs right now if it meant that Aragorn would help him. He never wanted to be in charge of anything, ever again, especially not trying to keep great lords and heroes alive. Aragorn was good at that sort of thing, he could take over now. Pippin took a deep breath and began forging a path through the chaos, calling Aragorn’s name as he went.

As he weaved his way through cots, ducking underneath outstretched arms and around long legs, Pippin heard questions following him that he had no desire to answer.

“How old is that boy? Who let a child in the guard?”

"Is that one of those halflings? The wizard’s pet or something?”

“Are you lost, little one?”

Some of these Men had the most terrible manners, clearly. Most of them were bleeding very badly, though, so Pippin could forgive them for their rudeness. He ignored them all and kept moving.

“Aragorn!” he shouted again.

A women that had been rushing by him paused for an instant to glare down at him. “Hush, you,” she scolded, in a voice that spoke of unquestionable authority. She wore a sort of veil with a nice brooch on it, so Pippin supposed she might be in charge here. “Lord Aragorn’s doing very important things right now and I’ll not have you disturbing him.”

Pippin’s heart jumped. “Where is he?” he asked.

The woman tsked and shook her head, making to continue along her original path. She held a bowl in her arms that Pippin was quite sure he did not want to see the inside of. Whatever it was sloshed unpleasantly when Pippin lurched after the women and grabbed a handful of her skirt to prevent her from leaving.

“The Steward has ordered me to fetch Aragorn! Show me where he is!” Pippin declared. He didn’t think it was a lie. Denethor was dead, so that made Boromir the Steward in his place, probably.

The woman gasped in surprise. “Lord Denethor lives?” she asked. “Wondrous news, we thought lord and son dead already.”

 Pippin avoided the question about Denethor by standing up as straight as he could. “Lord Faramir needs medicine,” he said imperiously. “He needs Aragorn’s skill. Take me to Aragorn.”

With a quick hand gesture to follow and not another word, the woman took off walking at a brisk stride deeper into the crowded hall. Pippin had to run to keep up with her. After what seemed like a dozen maneuvers around clumps of people and cots, a figure clad all in black finally came into view.

“Strider!” Pippin cried with relief. 

Aragon knelt at a young man’s bedside with a wet rag and bowl of water in his hands. He turned his face at once toward the sound of Pippin’s voice, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he did. Some of the panic that had been driving Pippin these last several hours faded away at the sight. If Aragorn was here, then surely things would get better now.

His relief faltered a bit when Pippin noticed that Aragorn was simply ­covered in blood- both red and black, and sweat, and grime that Pippin could not begin to identity. The Men gathered round him didn’t seem to mind Aragorn’s state, but then, most of them were splattered with blood as well, probably their own. Even Aragorn could not dispel the somber truth hanging in the air, that unimaginably many people had died today.

Faramir would join the dead soon if Pippin didn’t get a move on, so he marched past all those tall, bloodied Men to stand right at Aragorn’s side.

“Faramir’s dying,” he hissed, hoping he was quiet enough for none but Aragorn to hear. He didn’t especially want to deliver more bad news to the people in this room. “Boromir is with him, but he needs medicine, now.”

If Aragorn found this news distressing, he did not show it. He just nodded thoughtfully, and asked, “Can he walk?”

Pippin shook his head. Aragorn hummed an acknowledgment and rose to his feet. He handed the bowl and rag he’d been holding to another woman that Pippin hadn’t noticed before, murmuring something that sounded like instructions. He then spoke to the lady that had led Pippin, the one who seemed to be in charge.

“Ioreth,” he addressed her. “We have need of a stretcher.”

“It will be done,” she said, and turned on her heel to vanish back into the crowded hall.

Aragorn wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Pippin suspected he made them dirtier in the process. “Pippin,” Aragorn said. “Will you please lead me to Boromir and Faramir?”

“Yes, this way,” Pippin answered quickly. He was eager to be out of this terrifying place. He found it easier than before to navigate through the throng. He realized after a few moments of uninhibited movement that people were stepping aside to make way as soon as they saw Aragorn following him.

Had Aragorn already gotten around to being crowned while Pippin was busy? These people were certainly treating him like a king.

“Did you already become the King?” Pippin asked without thinking.

Aragorn chuckled dryly. “No, and I don’t think the lady healers would much care if I had. They care only that I know how to draw out the poison that covers many orcish blades, and that I’ve shared what I know.”

“Oh,” said Pippin, feeling queasy.

Finally, the door came into sight, and with a quick burst of speed, Pippin flung himself back into fresh air. Mostly fresh, anyway, permitting for some lingering smoke. The smell of blood and death that lingered in his nostrils seemed even more vile when contrasted against another, cleaner scent, and it made him gag. Aragorn placed a sympathetic hand between his shoulders.

“The battle to save the wounded is the hardest and the bloodiest,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in being shocked by it.”

Pippin couldn’t quite speak yet, so he bobbed his head in a jerky, shaking nod. He allowed himself two deep breaths before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Right. Faramir. Shot full of arrows and nearly burned to death, currently stashed in a mausoleum, actively perishing of fever. He had to bring Aragorn there, and then maybe he could sit down for a moment. He set off again at a jog.

Aragorn, being unfairly long-legged, could follow him with a brisk walk. Pippin was growing weary of these big people, he really was.

Back over the same cold marble stone he went, retracing his steps to the tombs. Two men carrying a stretcher had started following them at some point- Pippin hadn’t noticed exactly where they came from, but the stretcher they carried was already stained with red, so he suspected that they had been going back and forth from the House of Healing for a while already. Aragorn let there be silence between them for several yards, but began asking questions as soon as they crossed under a crumbling archway.

“What happened to Faramir to leave him needing medicine?”

“He was shot at least twice, I’m not sure when. Sometime yesterday.”

"Where has he been?”

“Well, he got shot when he was fighting in Osgiliath, and then the horse dragged him back, and that probably made it worse, actually, but then Denethor put him away someplace for a day or so and then brought him into the tombs and tried to burn him alive.”

Aragorn froze for a moment. “What?”

“Denethor lost his mind just before the battle started, he tried to burn Faramir alive on a pyre. And himself too, I think. He thought the world was ending.”

“Where is Denethor now?”

“He jumped off the wall.”

Aragorn took up walking again, now at a faster stride. “Boromir is with his brother now?”

"Yes,” Pippin confirmed, doing his best to keep up with Aragorn’s pace.

“Does he know what happened?”

That was a good question, actually. Had Pippin explained the situation at all? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember most of today, to be honest- it was all a blur of screams and fire.

He remembered the blinding panic he’d felt when heavy footsteps had entered the tombs. He remembered clutching his sword with sweaty hands and bracing himself to get torn to shreds by uruk-hai, and then abandoning his sword to hurl himself at Boromir once he’d heard the man’s voice. What had Boromir said, though? Anything? Had Pippin said anything?

He remembered Boromir dropping heavily onto his knees. The look on his face had been awful. He looked sad and scared and sick all at once. Pippin had never been sure what the word anguish meant, but he was sure now.

“I don’t think so,” Pippin finally answered.

 Aragorn muttered something to himself, a string of elvish words that Pippin had never heard before. It sounded like what Legolas said when he missed a shot, though, so Pippin could wager a guess at what it meant.

At last, they reached the door to the House of Stewards. Pippin darted through, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Aragorn was still following. Through the foyer, around the smoldering remains of the pyre, down the corridor on the right, and there they were. The lords of Gondor. Not quite as Pipping had left them.

Boromir had extracted Faramir from the alcove where Pippin had dragged him to lay his brother out in the open. The fine silk tunic Faramir had worn lay in oil-soaked shreds scattered about the floor, and the mail shirt he’d had on underneath was similarly cast aside, half-obscuring a puddle of vomit near the entry to the alcove. Pippin was sympathetic- being in this place made him want to retch, too.

Faramir lay on his side in his undershirt. The fabric had been white once, Pippin knew, but blood, oil and ash had colored it through. Boromir knelt at his back, holding him steady by the upper arm with one hand and gently tearing the cloth of the ruined shirt with the other. The cloth didn’t move the way it should when Boromir tugged it. It stuck stubbornly to Faramir’s scorched upper back and shoulder, like it had been glued there.

Pippin gasped in horror as the realization hit him. Boromir couldn’t get Faramir’s shirt off because it was stuck to his burnt skin, fused in place by the heat of the fire. Had his skin melted? Could skin melt? The thought alone sickened him.

Boromir must have heard Pippin gasp, because his head snapped up to fix the hobbit with a wild stare.

Pippin didn’t usually think of Boromir as frightening. Fearsome, of course, but not to his friends. Certainly never to Pippin.

He looked frightening now. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were tiny pinpoints. His lips were pulled back into an animalistic expression, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl, showing just a hint of teeth. His shoulders curled forward, hunching slightly over Faramir’s still form, and through his thin, damp shirt Pippin could see he was shaking with pent up energy.

When Pippin was younger, one of Farmer Maggot’s dogs had gone missing. They’d found the creature hiding under a shed, nursing a bleeding paw, growling and snapping at any hobbit that tried to approach. Boromir did not make a sound, but Pippin swore he could hear the same wounded dog’s growling all the same.

Pippin felt rather than heard Aragorn approaching from behind him, and it was a great relief when Boromir’s gaze flicked up off his face to fixate on Aragorn instead. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, Boromir opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Denethor?” he rasped, voice shaking.

Aragorn took a cautious step forward, moving in front of Pippin. He held his hands up, fingers splayed open, the way he did when trying to settle a spooked horse. “Boromir, my brother-” he began, voice soft and steady.

Boromir interrupted before he could take another step. “Tell me where my father is, Aragorn,” he croaked. “Tell me so I can find him and gut him.”

“He’s dead,” Pippin blurted. “He set himself on fire and then he went off the edge of the wall and died.”

Aragorn stiffened. Boromir’s jaw went slack. He heard gasps from the men carrying the stretcher behind him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken. Gandalf was always telling him something to that effect.

Boromir let out long, low groan and slumped in on himself, bowing his head so low his forehead grazed Faramir’s hair. He released the firm grip he’d been maintaining on his brother’s upper arm to grab fistfuls of his own hair instead.

Aragorn moved swiftly to kneel beside Boromir. He wrapped one arm around Boromir’s shoulders and pulled him into a lopsided embrace. Boromir went without protest, deflated and boneless against his king. Aragorn spoke to him, too softly for Pippin to hear, and coaxed him to shuffle backwards just a pace or two to create space at Faramir’s side. The two half-forgotten men with the stretcher between them seized their opportunity and swept in to gather Faramir up. Boromir twitched forward when they lifted his brother, but Aragorn held him back with a hand on his chest. With quick, synchronized steps, Faramir was taken out of the tombs.

Louder now, so Pippin could hear again, Aragorn spoke with real regret in his voice. “I must follow them. I promise I will give all the skill I have to make Lord Faramir well.”

“I’m coming,” Boromir stated.

Aragorn fixed him with a hard stare. “It will be ugly,” he warned. “I’ll have to cut the shirt off his back, and I expect much of his skin to come with it. If he wakes it will be to scream.”

“I know,” said Boromir.

“I would rather not find your blade shoved through my heart while I work.”

Boromir flushed. “I would not.”

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. “All the same, if you wish to follow, leave your sword at the door for my peace of mind.”

Boromir opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and simply bowed his head in assent. Aragorn hauled himself to his feet and offered Boromir a hand up, which Boromir accepted without hesitation.

“Can I help?” Pippin asked, surprising himself.

Aragorn eyed him up and down. One corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, Pippin, I think you can help us all very much by staying at Boromir’s side and keeping him calm. If you have any more news to deliver, however, perhaps you could share it beforewe enter the House of Healing?”

Pippin recognized the admonishment for what it was and ducked his head, chastened. On the other hand, now that he mentioned it-

“Gandalf’s staff is broken,” he announced.

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Pippin. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. If you think of something, take Boromir out into the hall and tell him.” Aragorn turned to Boromir and spoke sternly. “Boromir, if Pippin takes you out into the hall, I forbid you to pick up your sword until we have had a chance to speak.”

Boromir huffed out something very close to a laugh. “Wise council, my king.”

#@emilybeemartin #lotr fic #Boromir Lives AU

[042502]

Little Kiss // M. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: Trouble in paradise, don't worry, your lover Matt will give you a good time so you can forget your husband.

WARNINGS: Infidelity, married reader, manipulative Matt, obscene language, juicy sex, lovers, among others

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :)

MASTERLIST!!

"Bye Emmett."

and hung up. She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed by the fact that Matt saw her crying and just cried silently. When suddenly he felt Matt's hands on his face, removing his own. You didn't make any effort and when he looked ahead, you meet Matt's eyes that were looking at her with concern.

"Dont cry please. He doesn't deserve your tears" he mentions, as he ran his thumb over his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"Take me Home. Please" she asked.

Matt opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. He shook his head and nodded.

"Okay. Let's go."

It had been two days since you last spoke to Emmett. And although with each passing day she felt even more hurt by the fact that he had been unfaithful to her, He couldn't deny that he was partly grateful that he was away from her. This way I could spend more time with Matt and enjoy his company.

Matt was smiling as he watched you cook. Yes, she could definitely be the perfect wife. Today he was with her. Since you invited him to lunch at your house, he didn't think twice and went.

"May I help you?" Matt asked, intending to help.

"Yes. You can set the table, I'll finish preparing lunch here."

Matt nodded and disappeared into the main dining room. Some time later, they were both having lunch together and enjoying a pleasant conversation.

When your cell phone started ringing and you stood up to answer it somewhere else, Matt took the moment to get up and walk around the house. He entered a room which he deduced was where you slept. She frowned when she saw a double bed. An image of you with a man who would be Emmett making love came to mind. Without meaning to, Matt growled loudly. His jaw was tense. He shook his head and an image of you sleeping in bed, alone and suffering from your husband's deception flashed through his mind. He clenched his fists. How she wanted to take Emmett's place, to let him know she wasn't alone, and to be able to make love to him again and again...

A ray of light came straight into his eyes when he tried to take a step, and only then did he realize that in the same room there was another door that gave access to some other room. The door was ajar and when he entered, his jaw dropped. It was your painting studio. There were paintings everywhere, some hanging, while others on the tables. Brushes and paints were on the floor. Everything was messy, but the paintings gave joy to the place.

Suddenly, he heard the door close. Matt turned around and saw you leaning against the door.

"I finally find you" walking towards him. "What are you doing?"

"I was just looking at your paintings" as he turned his gaze towards the paintings. "They are great."

"Thank you. The only thing I hope is that they are good enough to win the contest." smiled.

"They are. Believe me, I have faith that you will win.

Matt looked at her and took the moment to study her profile. His lips were parted and he had an immense desire to eat her with kisses. Biting his lip, Matt tried to control the urge to kiss you again, but he just couldn't and against his will, he found himself reaching out towards you, framing tentatively. You watch him and realizing his intention, you instinctively step back.

"No" you responded. "I'm married."

He growled.

"I swear if I hear you say that one more time I will fuck you without mercy and I won't care what you say."

Your face turned pale. A cloud of lust passed through Matt's eyes.

"You would not dare" you stutter.

"Of course" smiled wickedly. "But now, I want you to do me a favor."

"Which?"

"I would like you to make a portrait of me"

You bite your lip, and unconsciously, your eyes roam over Matt's body from head to toe.

"Do you want me to draw you?" you ask, staring at his shirt that hid killer abs underneath.

"Yes. I think you could make a good portrait of me" He smiled and for a moment you felt seduced by his smile.

"Mmh... Ok. I will try to draw you."

You walked over to the windows and pulled the curtains aside to let the light flood into the room. Then he moved an armchair, somewhat worn, and placed it in the middle of the room.

"Sit here" You point your finger at him.

Matt obeyed and sat where you indicated. While I tied your hair in a ponytail, you walk and take out your easel that was leaning in the corner to position it in front of Matt, far enough from him to see him clearly. You take out all your paints and a new canvas to set out to paint. Once ready, you look up and meet Matt's eyes looking at you carefully.

"Place your elbow on the edge of the chair and lean firmly on the backrest."

Matt obeyed.. You frown.

"Adjust your hair well to one side."

"Thus?" asked, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it.

"No" You shook your head. Then you walk until you are in front of him and bend down a little to sink your fingers into his hair and comb it. Closing the eyes, Matt hissed in pleasure and enjoyed the sensation of being caressed by your soft hands. She wondered where else on his body she could touch him, but quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. You remove your hands from his hair and for a split second Matt had the impulse to ask you not to stop touching him. "Just like that" you whisper "Do not move."

You move away to resume your previous posture. Matt’s eyes followed you. Raising one hand, slide the brush over the canvas and start painting. Matt reached out and rested his hand on her chin, rhythmically stroking her bottom lip with his index finger. You frown at him.

"Don't do that. It distracts me."

Matt's lips trembled and you knew he was fighting the urge to smile, but he finally caught himself and lowered his hand from his lips.

Some time later, you were almost finished. It was dusk, and the light was coming straight at Matt from the window, illuminating his handsome face.

"I'm almost done" she spoke, looking up to see him. "Aren't you bored?"

"Baby, I could stay here all day watching you."

You blush, and then return your eyes to the canvas to finish the painting. Ten minutes later, you sigh contentedly and set the brush aside, stepping back a little and admiring your painting approvingly.

"I've finished now" still with his eyes fixed on the painting. Matt got up from the couch and walked over.

"It turned out great on you" He reached out towards the painting, intending to touch it, but quickly pulled it back when you knocked. "Ow! What?"

"Do not touch her. The paint is still fresh" You glare at him.

He snorted. You are laughing.

"I'm sorry, I just don't want it to get ruined." you smile. A smile so damn perfect it made even Matt cringe.

Matt locked his eyes on your lips, for like the umpteenth time that day. They tempted him.

"All I want is to kiss you" admitted. "Is it too much to ask?"

"For a married woman it is."

"But he cheated on you."

"I know. But please don't repeat it to me again." you ask and suddenly your voice broke. "It hurts me to hear it."

"I'm sorry" He apologized. "It's just that I'm jealous. You don't know how much I envy your husband having these lips just for him." He reached out his hand and caressed your lip with his thumb. You smacked your lips and Matt moaned. "Baby, wouldn't you be able to share, even for a second, these lips with me?"

You look it. You wanted to kiss him too. Very much.

"Alright. But just a small kiss" You agree, suddenly blushing.

"A little kiss" he repeated. "That was enough for me."

And before you could speak again, Matt leaned in and kissed you. You close your eyes and receive the kiss by wrapping your arms around his neck. Matt grunted as your tongue caressed his, and unconsciously, he found himself clinging closer to him and kissing her desperately.

Matt's lips never left yours as he began to walk, forcing you to back away and fall into the chair where he was sitting seconds ago. You straddle him and break the kiss, moaning as Matt's hands slide to your ass and squeeze it, bringing you closer to his hard erection. And damn, how much it turned him on to have you on top of him, with your sexes rubbing against each other.

"Oh, shit" Matt growled.. "If you make me that hard with a simple kiss, I don't want to imagine what it will be like when I fuck you."

And he kissed you again. Your hands moved down to his chest and you heard Matt moan as you caressed him, cinching each of his muscles. He was very strong, and as you kissed him, you wondered how hard he could move if you had him inside you.

Matt's hands slowly moved up from your hips to your waist, framing each of your curves. He felt you shudder as he went up and he liked that.

"Do you like me touching you, sweet honey?" he asked with a rough voice.

You moan in response as his hands rested on your breasts, each hand on each breast. He caressed them over the fabric of your shirt and your nipples reacted instantly, hardening. You throw your head back, enjoying his touch and suddenly doubt arose within you. Were you doing the right thing by subjecting yourself to this? Would you be capable of being unfaithful to your husband?

Only then when Matt's hand slipped under your shirt were you able to react and you placed both hands on Matt's shoulders, pushing him away from you.

"Fuck, Matt, It was supposed to be just a little kiss..."

"It's not my fault you make me like this. Come on, I know you want it just like I do."

"I can not do it, im sorry." He tried to lift me up, but Matt stopped me by firmly grabbing my hips.

"Why not?"

"I am married."

Suddenly, a fury flashed through Matt's eyes that you had never seen before and it scared you. You stand up, but quickly find yourself trapped by Matt's arms that kept you cornered between the wall of the room and his body. Swallowing, you look up, meeting Matt's eyes staring at you with an anger that froze you.

"I'm sick of hearing that damn excuse" he complains through clenched teeth "Understand, your husband does not love you. If he really loved you he should never have been unfaithful to you."

Bile rose in your throat as you heard his cold words. You swallow, in a failed attempt to untie the knot that had formed in you.

"That is not true." you murmured "He loves me."

"No!" He slammed his fist into the wall, right on the side of your head. You startle. "Answer to me, Has he called you again?"

You shake your head, unable to articulate any words.

"You see it, If he really cared about you, he should already be here with you, and not on his fucking business trip. He does not love you."

Your eyes watered. You purse your lips, trying not to burst into tears, but before you could think clearly, you found yourself throwing yourself into Matt's arms and crying into his shoulder. Matt rubbed your back, and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, still not letting go.

"You're right, Matt" you cry. "I'm a stupid. It's the truth, he doesn't love me. Oh, Why did this happen to me? Am I that bad of a wife?"

"Don't say that, you... you are perfect. You are not to blame for anything, it is your husband who is the idiot. you're just in love..."

You pull away from him a little, enough to look him in the eyes. Your eyes were filled with tears and Matt's heart sank.

"Please make me forget it. Help me forget it."

And that was just what Matt wanted to hear. A smile formed on his lips.

"Baby, I'll make you forget it and much more than that." He grabbed your chin and brought his lips closer. "I'll make you enjoy it as much as I do."

And he kissed you again with the same desperation as always.

You sigh as Matt set you down on the bed and started kissing his neck. Raising his hands to your neck, he buries his fingers in your hair and clenches his hands into fists, caressing him in a way that makes him moan with pleasure. Matt moved away a little and kissed you with a demand that left you breathless, while Matt's hands went down and unbuttoned the buttons of your shirt in an agile movement, one by one. He licked his lips as his eyes focused on a pretty white bra, which hugged and hid large breasts. Unable to take it anymore, Matt slid his hands behind your back to unhook her bra and capture one of her breasts with his mouth. You close your eyes, moaning and throwing your head back.

"You are so beautiful, sweet honey." his hot breath hitting her hardened nipple. "You drive Me crazy."

He said it in such an intimate way that it made her moan with pleasure, asking for more. You lower your hands to Matt's hips and grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off of him to reveal his torso. You rest your hands on it, each hand on each shoulder and you go down slowly, caressing. Matt's muscles tensed.

"Jesus ." he moaned. "I would like to know what other things your hands are used for besides painting..."

You smile at him and bite your lip, then undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants. You gasp when you see his huge erection, covered by the thin fabric of his boxers. Tentatively, you reach out to touch him and the moment your fingers brushed against his erection, he groaned.

"Baby, I really wish you could do that again, but this time without anything in the way."

You laugh and Matt sighs as you yank his boxers down, freeing his member. You gasp again. How could you describe it? His erection was imposing, demonstrating masculinity and authority in any direction he pointed. With your index finger, you touch the tip of his penis and hear him grunt. Then you take it with a closed fist and begin to, very slowly, slide it up and down, along its entire length. Matt parted his lips, moaning.

Matt looked down and watched as your small hands masturbated him. You increase speed. He growled loudly and with eyes dark with lust, he watched as you smiled and leaned over. Matt pulled away instantly, gasping.

"No. If you suck me, I'll end up cumming and I don't want to do it without you." I confess to you with a hoarse voice.

And he kissed you again. Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss and pulled you closer to him. It was a demanding and wild kiss, showing him how much he wanted you.

Suddenly, a noise. Someone was calling the house phone. Matt growled against your lips.

"ignore it." Matt ordered.

You nod and kiss him again, while the phone didn't stop ringing. Oh, What did that man have that every time you kissed him, he made you forget everything.

The phone stopped ringing, but it didn't take long for the answering machine to answer.... and Emmett's voice will be heard.

"Dear. I can't wait to see you again, I have so many things to tell you" sigh. "Anyway, I just wanted to remind you that I'll be back home next week. Don't forget that I love you despite everything... goodbye."

Matt stepped away from you and stood up abruptly. She looked. His teeth were so clenched that you were even afraid he would hurt himself.

"Do not believe him" his voice comes soft from his lips. "Please don't believe him."

"I already told you that I don't care about Emmett. He is the one I want and need right now."

Matt looked at you, his eyes shining with something that looked like joy.

"Really?"

"Yes. Now come here and show me when you want me."

He kissed you once again, testing with his own tongue the characteristic flavor of your mouth that every time he tried it, he felt that it drove him more and more crazy. Pulling away from you a little, Matt placed his hands on your hips and pulled your jeans down, out of his sight. I look at you. She looked beautiful with only the thong on.

"You have a beautiful legs." He flattered you, sliding his hand up your thigh, up and down, and so on.

Shivers ran through you as you closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the sensation of being caressed by Matt's warm hands. Only then do you open them when you feel Matt start to pull down your panties. You look down, meeting Matt's lustful eyes.

"I love you so much" he whispered eagerly. "I'll fuck you until you can't stand up."

Matt caressed your thighs once more. He placed his hands on your hips.

"Open your legs..."

You obey instantly. Matt positioned himself in the middle of them, his erection rubbing against the entrance to your vagina. Your mouth opened in a perfect 'o' when Matt thrust in suddenly, and instinctively, you arched your hips. He parted his lips, remaining still inside you.

"You have a delicious pussy." Matt growled. "Someday I'll try it with my own mouth."

You moan and very slowly, Matt began to move. He groaned as your tight pussy enveloped him, hugging him around him.

"Shit" Matt moaned. "I'm crazy about you."

Matt looked down and watched the exciting scene of his member disappearing into your pussy as he pushed deeper into you. An expression of pleasure appeared on your face and you ran a hand over your forehead, in an attempt to remove the excess sweat. He leaned down and kissed you, then buried his nose in your hair and inhaled.

"You smell so good." Matt sighed, letting the scent take over. "Roses and jasmine."

Grabbing your thighs, Matt sank completely into you. You scream, not caring how it sounded and dig your nails into Matt's arms. Narrowing his eyes, he hissed in pleasure.

"Faster" you ask. "Please, I need it."

Matt growled and increased the speed of his attacks. His hips moved from front to back, in the same rhythm that made you go crazy. The bed creaked and hit violently against the wall of the room. And Matt couldn't help but roar out loud, when he felt you tighten your grip around him.

"That's it baby" He moaned, feeling how your wet flesh began to hug his penis tightly. "cum for me..."

You came instantly, saying Matt's name in a scream that echoed in his ears. Closing his eyes, Matt threw his head back and growled once more.

Matt collapsed on top of you, his nose buried in your hair and breathing heavily into your ear. He moved and lay down next to you. She turned her head and looked at you, caressing your cheek with a strange tenderness that touched you.

"Your husband is a lucky man. I envy him." admitted.

"Please, I don't want to talk about him right now. I just want to think about you right now."

You snuggled into his side, resting your head on his bicep and closed your eyes. Matt put his arms around your waist and placed a soft He kissed your forehead, and then brought you even closer to him and fell into a very deep sleep.

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver

#໒✦⋮ 𝟬𝟰𝟮𝟱𝟬𝟮 ༄ ˀˀ #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo soft #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

[anotherpapercut]

people acting like there isn't still very much an active stigma against cannibas and cannibas users is going to be my joker origin story

when i go to the doctor they still put cannibas use under the tab "substance abuse". not even just substance use. it is fully assumed that people who use cannabis, even as a prescription medication, are abusing it. just because you're friends with a couple of dumbass stoners doesn't mean that we've abandoned the idea as a culture that weed is a bad and scary and dangerous and highly addictive drug that will ruin your life if you use it once

#idk what its like in other countries but in the us and especially in red states fear mongering about weed is alive and well #'it ruins lives' -direct quote from a library board member making it so we can be fired for testing positive even w a prescription #i just take umbrage with posts about addiction that go out of their way to mention weed which we all learned in 6th grade is addictive #but dont also mention that this true of all prescription drugs and that a person can be dependant on a drug for health reasons??? #yeah i get anxious and cant go a day without weed. because i use it to treat my anxiety and pain. i also get anxious without my wellbutrin #but people arent lining up to make posts about it?? and like you CAN obviously become addicted to prescription drugs its super common! #so i kind of feel like it would be far more useful to say 'this is true of ALL drugs. including weed caffeine and prescriptions' #you should always research ANY drug you take. prescription or not. find out about addictiveness + side effects + other drug interactions #and you should talk to someone if you feel anxious about your relationship to drugs. prescription or not #there have been many times where i was prescribed way too many drugs at once and it made me feel anxious and uncomfortable #so i talked to my doctors and consolidated several and it actually made them work a lot better #locked reblogs because i KNOW people are going to read this is 'so you should never ever talk about negative consequences of weed' #and im pretty sure the people who follow me will be able to understand thats obviously not what im saying #but as soon as it leaves my blog whos to say. but anyway like. I think we should talk more about addiction to all substances #and not just the ones that were already covered in DARE #I feel like at this point everybody has heard all of the negative possibilities with weed use at least once #and that's not necessarily true of caffeine and even like. benadryl lmfao #I might delete this in 10 minutes if I psych myself out akbdjznsjf

[marmotsomsierost]

Advocating for your family and their medical care is incredibly important.

Being upset that you didn't get an explanation of exactly why your family was discharged is understandable. Even if it is clearly written in the discharge paperwork. It can be legitimately difficult to decode the papers, especially if there is a language or cognitive concern.

Like i will even grant that raising your voice and using demanding language is not necessarily the incorrect choice. Something sucks, you shouldn't have to be sweet and deferential about it.

However.

Loudly berating every single person in scrubs that you see and stating how you are advocating for your family, that you just want them to get the care we would want for our own family, we all are terrible and not doing our jobs because we don't care about our patients, we don't care about someone being in pain and how are you going to discharge a patient without running (test not usually done in the ED in a nonemergent situation) or (test you have already had because your doctor ordered it and we have literally nothing to do with in the ED because we neither performed it nor interpreted it) AND you are 'documenting who i talk to and when and what they say and i need everyone's name who says anything to me' AND after spending six hours sitting in the lobby stewing because the doctor hasn't come talk to you yet while loudly calling everyone you know to talk shit about us and rehash all of the above you say - with absolutely no sense of shame -

that you have been taking photos and video of 'people sitting on their ass' not doing anything

And when i say "You cannot take pictures in here" you say "it doesn't say i can't" and when i say "it is very clearly posted several places that it is not allowed" you say "well i don't see them" and security chimes in pointing out exactly where they are you pause and then say - again, with absolutely no shame -

"Well as much as you all haven't been doing your jobs, i clearly didn't read it"

AND THEN

And THEN you say 'i don't care, i have been documenting all of this because my lawyer told me to because this is (reiteration of entire rant from beginning)'

...THIS IS NOT ADVOCATING FOR YOUR FAMILY MY DUDE

and you are fucking lucky that you got the charge nurse and doctors that you did get because if you had a problem with doc A's attitude holy shit would you have gone ballistic nylon batshit pants if you'd had doc B. And if you'd had a different charge or a different house sup you would have been physically removed the second you said word one about taking pictures. Patients have been removed for taking pictures or video, and you're not even the patient!

"I've been here for five hours and the doctor STILL hasn't come to talk to me. That's how much this hospital is worth. They don't treat the patients right."

We have one doctor. One. If the waiting room is standing fucking room only...maybe, JUST MAYBE, he hasn't come talk to you FOR THE SECOND TIME because HE CAN'T.

...

Anyway. Fuck this day, i'm going home and i'm gonna be just this side of blowing my speakers out on some marcus miller to try and regain an iota of patience.

#just #the absolute rotten radioactive fake maraschino cherry on this fucking day #flashbacks straight to that one fucking family member of one of our regulars on the rig #you're acting like a fucking child and it is actively impeding further care to your family like what the fuck bro #and #AND!!! #one of the things they were harping on about how dare we discharge them without (doing thing) #BECAUSE THAT THING IS MUCH RISKIER FOR THE PATIENT THAN WHAT THEY ALREADY HAVE #like it SPECIFICALLY SAYS on the FUCKING INFO PAPER FOR THEM that that is a CONTRAINDICATION FOR USE #B R O #i have such a fucking headache if i didn't need to save my pto i would be like no fuck y'all i'm done #i got on shift and i didn't even get to my ASSIGNED STATION until THREE HOURS because the charge kept having me do shit in the back #YOU HAVE A MAIN TECH FOR THIS #i don't mind pitching in! i don't mind covering for breaks or if the shit has hit the fan #but when the shit has hit the fan up front or i go on my break nobody covers for me #so i come back to four ekgs and a splint and a charge nurse demanding i room three patients and there's four to be triaged still #and sometimes that's just the way shit goes #but when i i'm running laps doing shit and i see a bunch of people not doing shit #it's not a great vibe! #i am using guy williams gifs because he is very pretty and i loved watching that show as a kid #and when i opened to look for my usual picard facepalm there was one on the suggested menu

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

It had been years, almost a decade since the last time Simon Riley had sex. It wasn’t as if he was sexually inexperienced, but sex was just never something he thought about.

Until you.

You were a vixen, a muse, and Simon’s undoing. A simple smile from you would have the 6’4 soldier on his knees for you.

Never in a million years would he have imagined he’d be here, his cock buried inside of your tight little pussy as you called out his name. That he was the one making you feel this good.

It was as if the gods made you just for him, your arms molding perfectly around his neck, your legs just the right size to circle his waist, your pussy just the right fucking fit for his cock.

His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open as he threw every ounce of concentration he had into holding off his orgasm. Every fiber of his being was begging him to release, his hands shaking around your head as his cock twitched yet again inside of you.

Simon dared a glance at you, and felt his stomach tighten tenfold at the sight. You were so fucking beautiful, covered in sweat, your hair a mess, your eyes darkened with lust as soft mewls fell from your pretty lips.

Jesus.

He just couldn’t wrap his brain around how he ended up here, balls deep in the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. A woman he’d silently loved for years now sprawled out naked below him, taking his thick cock like it was fucking meant for you. Maybe it was fucking meant just for you.

Simon fisted the sheet above your head, a growl escaping his swollen lips as he felt you clench around him. “Love, please, you gotta stop doing that.”

You moaned in reply, letting your head fall back further into the pillow behind you, your legs tightening around your lieutenants waist. The angle allowed for Simon’s cock to hit deeper within you, your pussy yet again clenching around him. “Feels so good, sir.”

Any ounce of self control Simon had vanished in that moment, between the glorious sight of you naked beneath him, the way your tight pussy was clenching around him and the way you just fucking called him sir? Simon was a fucking goner.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening, his cock was pulsing inside of you, his thick white cum painting your already soaked walls. Simon let his head fall slightly, burying in the crook of your sweaty neck as he let out a low groan. “Fuck!”

It took him a moment to catch his breath, and he hesitantly opened his eyes, expecting to find you looking at him with disappointment.

But when he looked down at you, he found you beaming up at him, a languid smile on your lips, your eyes still blown with lust. He watched as you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes locked on his.

He felt you grab the back of his head, pulling his lips down to yours in a heated kiss, full of tongue and teeth. You let out a whine into Simon’s mouth, causing his cock to grow impossibly hard once more inside of you.

Simon pulled away with a breathless smile, his eyes locked on yours as he braced both his hands on either side of your head.

“Now I believe it’s your turn to cum, good girl.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #female reader

[ickadori]

++ 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈/𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

[summary] during a playful fight between you and yuji, sukuna decides to make an appearance and air out yuji’s dirty secrets.

[cws] fem reader. dubcon. lewd use of sukuna’s tummy mouth. exhibitionism -> you’re in public but no one is around. one mention of a misogynist comment from sukuna. yuji thinks about you a lot. unedited.

“Do you …hah, do you give up yet?” Yuji pants as he has you pinned underneath him, sweat dripping off the ends of his hair and landing on your forehead.

You’d cringe and shrink away if you weren’t so determined to win this mock fight (never mind that you were drenched in your own sweat, as well).

“Absolutely not.” You grit out, hips futilely bucking up to try and get him off you. He barely budges, even having the nerve to laugh as he watches you struggle. You can hear Nobara booing quite enthusiastically, while Megumi grumbles about being late for class and having to hear ‘Gojo’s annoying mouth’.

“Ya know you’re not gonna win, so just give up already and agree to hosting movie night in my dorm this time!”

“Never! No one wants to stare at pin-up posters all night, plus your tv is too small, and your bed always smells like Doritos, and—”

“Geez, just say you hate me, why don’t you.” He rolls his eyes, going to sit back on his haunches as he stays straddling your waist. You kiss at your teeth, trying once more to buck him up while simultaneously bringing your hands up and shoving at his stomach. “And my bed does not smell like Doritos! Does it?” He snaps his head over to look at Nobara and Megumi.

“The cool ranch ones.” Nobara says, and Megumi nods in agreement. “Aka, the nastiest flavor.” Yuji gasps dramatically.

“That’s the best flavor! How dare you…” As he bickers back and forth with Nobara, you focus a little cursed energy into your hands. “…says the girl who eats pickles with whipped cream like she’s pregnant or someth—!”

In the blink of an eye you’ve got Yuji on his back as you straddle his stomach, a triumphant grin on your face as you keep your hands on his shoulders to keep him pinned flat against the ground. “Aha!”

“That’s cheating!” Yuji frowns up at you.

“No, it isn’t! It’s called strategizing.”

“Cheating!”

“I’m going to class.” Megumi begins to walk off, hands stuffed in his pockets, and you shout after him.

“Movie night is in my dorm!”

“Hey!” Yuji interrupts.

“Bring good snacks only!” You finish, and then Nobara is the next to go, jogging to catch up with Megumi as she flashes the both of you an amused grin.

“Cheater.” Yuji grumbles once it’s just you two, and you snicker as you let go of his shoulders and sit up, not bothering to stand up just yet. “Using cursed energy against your friend… you should be ashamed.”

“You literally threw a spear at me yesterday and it almost killed me.”

“That’s different! We were training, and I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.” His expression turned sheepish as he avoided your eyes, and you pursed your lips as you tapped his nose with the pad of your index finger. He wriggled it in response, and you softly laughed as you did it again.

“It’s fine, just know that you had it coming when I try to kill you in the future, mkay?” He blinks up at you.

“You’re creepy, you know that?”

“Says the boy with a third eyeball on his cheek.” This time you do cringe, watching as the red eye blinks open before settling on you.

“Wha—Sukuna!” Yuji snaps, hand moving to slap over the eye and cover it. “You should probably go now before he fully wakes up … you know how he is.” A pink hue bleeds into Yuji’s cheeks as he averts his eyes, and you feel your own face warm as you nod.

“Yeah,” you agree. Sukuna had always been insufferable from the moment you befriended Yuji, always piping up with mean, critiquing comments that bordered on being cruel. The comments had started with him bashing your fighting skills during your trainings with Yuji, quips of ‘you’re so slow - it’s a wonder you aren’t dead yet’, or ‘women on the battlefield is a bad fucking joke - hasn’t anyone ever taught you your place’, or ones that had left you teary-eyed and which you refuse to repeat.

Yeah, Sukuna was an asshole, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone, and you’d rather not have your day ruined before you even made it to your first class.

“I’ll see you tonight, Yuji.” You place your hands on his chest, about to use him to push yourself up to your feet, but a low, raspy voice has you stopping in your tracks.

“You’re sitting on my mouth.” Sukuna abruptly says, and you blink in confusion, your eyes flitting between Yuji’s and where you’re sitting.

“What?”

“Y-You should go now,” Yuji tries, but Sukuna is talking again and drowning him out.

“Your pussy, that hot thing between your legs, it’s on my mouth. See?” Something moves underneath you, and you flinch at the sound of fabric tearing before a yelp is leaving your mouth when something thick, damp and warm is pushing up between your legs and pressing against your clothed cunt. “You should be careful where you put that thing, y’know.”

He talks through the mouth on Yuji’s hand, and your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as Sukuna swipes his tongue against you again, his saliva wetting the fabric of your underwear.

“Sukuna, st—”

“Sit back and shut up.” Yuji falls silent in an instant, and a wave of panic washes over you when you see his eyes gloss over and his head fall back against the grass, black markings etching their way onto his face. A grin stretches across his face, and hands move to lock around your hips, fingers pushing into your flesh as he makes sure you can’t go anywhere. “That’s better.”

“Y-Yuji?” You sound breathless, and you gasp when his tongue worms its way past your panties to swipe in-between your folds. “Yuji!”

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, “the brat is still here. Watching and listening, he’s not gonna miss a thing, don’t you worry.” You don’t know if that’s worse or better—Yuji being aware of what’s happening, being able to see your face contort each time that tongue flicks at your clit, being able to hear the noises you try and fail to subdue.

“Stop,” your voice sounds weak to your own ears, and Sukuna guffaws, tongue forcing its way up into your cunt, the action eliciting a lewd squelch as he rubs against your walls.

“Stop.” He parrots back at you, hands tightening around your hips, and you duck your head down when his tongue leaves your hole to instead focus its attention back on your clit. “I don’t know what the brat gets all worked up about—yeah, you’ve got a sweet pussy and a nice pair of tits, but you’re a real fuckin’ tease. Rolling around with a boy in that flimsy little skirt and grinding your cunt up against him. Tch.”

“I wasn—Sukuna!” You jump when his teeth graze against your folds, the thought of him possibly biting you making a shiver of fear run up your spine.

“He wants to fuck you.” He couples the reveal with a harsh suck. “Fuck this cunt that I’m tonguing down - the pervert can’t go five minutes in a room with you without thinking about it.” Your ears burn as a fresh wave of slick rushes out of you, thighs trembling where they rest around his thick waist. “He’s too worried about scaring you off to do anything about it, though… but I don’t think he has anything to worry about, does he? Look at you.”

A whimper leaves your mouth, and you quickly sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not succeeding in blocking out the slurping, tacky sounds coming from between your legs. You want to stand up, get his mouth away from you so you can think straight, because your mind is all jumbled and fuzzy and screwy, and his words, his crude words that always made your skin hot and your stomach churn, is making it churn for another reason now.

“Won’t you give him a show, hm?” You barely register his words, and you yelp when his hand makes contact with your ass, fingers kneading at the doughy flesh as he repeats his earlier words. “Take your tits out.”

“No,” you warble, your hands weakly pushing at his wrists, a poor attempt to get him to stop moving your hips back and forth, forcing your cunt to side back and forth over his flattened tongue. “Sukuna, please.”

“Take ‘em out yourself, or I’ll do it for you and leave you to walk back to your dorm with nothing on.” You hesitate, eyes wet as you nervously lick at your lips, and when he makes a move for your shirt, you quickly begin to undo the buttons, fingers clumsy as they fumble repeatedly. “Good pet.”

Your blouse falls open as you undo the last button, revealing the pink bra you have on underneath, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you pull the cups of your bras down, fully exposing yourself Sukuna’s eyes .. and Yuji’s, too oh God.

The reminder that Yuji can see everything that’s happening sends a fleet of butterflies to your stomach, and you kick yourself mentally when you find yourself jutting out your chest just a bit. Does he like them, the thoughts zips through your mind, and you don’t have time to question where the hell it came from before hands are roughly squeezing at them, calloused fingers pinching and twisting at your nipples.

“Are they as good as you imagined, kid? Cause you imagine them a lot.” Sukuna smirks, and then he’s snapping his eyes up to yours. “You wanna know what he thinks about doing to them?” His tongue lazily laps at your folds, occasionally parting them to venture down to your clenching hole and take a dip inside before repeating the process.

Sukuna doesn’t wait for your answer.

“He thinks about putting his cock between them, pushing them together so it’s nice and tight and fucking them.” He demonstrates, hands pushing your breasts together, and you can’t help but watch his hands as they grope and fondle you. “Thinks about how they’d bounce when he’s got you riding his cock.” His hands leave your breasts to instead grip your hips, and you gasp when easily lifts you, just to drop you back down onto his tongue, the appendage sliding into your cunt and reaching deep.

“Sukuna!”

He continues to lift you up and down, forcing you to ride his tongue, and his eyes stay locked on your bouncing breasts, lips still fixed in that same smirk. “You gonna come?” You feel as if his words are directed at more than just you. He moves you faster, nails biting into your skin, and your face contorts into one of bliss as you hold onto his wrists as tight as you can, eyes fluttering shut as your pussy clamps down.

He pulls you down for the final time, mouth latched onto your cunt as you come, greedy gulps and sucks sounding as he swallows down your slick, his hands moving from your hips to your back. He roughly pulls you towards his face, and a whimper-y moan forces itself out of you as his lips wrap around a stiff nipple, teeth sinking in before he’s soothing the sting away with his tongue.

You sag against him, ragged breaths disturbing tufts of pink hair, and the aggressive sucking on your breast morphs into softer, gentler sucks, the nails that had been scratching at your back replaced with gentle caresses, and the tongue and mouth that had been abusing your now puffy and sore cunt is gone.

“Yuji.” You sigh, and he hums around you before his whole body goes stiff, tongue pausing its gentle swipe against your nipple, and hands slowly moving away from you. The heat against your chest is sweltering, and you push yourself up on shaky arms, tiredly blinking down at his red face.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know he would do that or say those things! I-I don’t even know why he said all those things, I don’t think about you like that, I swear!” He goes off into a tangent, eyes darting between your face and your breasts, and you sigh again before leaning back down to push your lips against his.

The kiss is chaste and quick, and when you pull back your face is as hot as his, and you become acutely aware of your state of dress, hands fumbling to fix your bra and redo your shirt as you avert your gaze.

“What was that for?”

“You… you wouldn’t stop talking.” You defend as you fix the last button, and then you’re struggling to your feet before Yuji finally frees himself from his stupor and helps you. He pulls away from you and takes a few steps back, the both of you staring at each other in silence for a bit, and your eyes widen when you see his shirt has been ripped away around the stomach, the skin there wet from you and his happy trail glistening with your juices.

“I-”

“You-”

“Sorry, you go.” You both interrupt each other again.

“He-”

“We-”

You heave out a breath as he groans, and when he goes to say something else to wave your hands back and forth, stopping him short. “Let’s never talk about this again.”

“Oh… okay! Yeah! Okay! Lips are sealed.” He motions to lock his lips and throw away the key, and you can’t help but smile just a bit.

“Okay.” You nod, hands twisting together, and there’s another uncomfortable silence before he speaks up again.

“I can, um, walk you to class?”

“Oka—oh, your shirt.” You gesture to his ruined uniform, and he looks down as his eyebrows raise.

“How’d that happen—oh, yeah.” He looks at you, and you roll your lips into your mouth. “I guess I should change then.” You nod. “I’ll see you tonight then, right? For movie night?” Could you really sit through a movie with him after what Sukuna just did, after what he told you? An ache starts as you recall what he had revealed to you, and your eyes meet Yuji’s as you nod again.

“Yeah. Tonight.”

#yuji x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujitsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

[iicarused]

##most desired

y!vox x reader // y!alastor x reader // y!adam x reader

synopsis: two overlords and an angel who are insufferably in love with you. // she / her pronouns

beware: DARK THEMES // obsessive behaviour, heavy yandere aspects, stalking,

notes: the most y/n thing i ever made

you were one of the first overlords of hell that remained in the same rank to this day. everyone knew of you and dared not whisper your name in fear that you would come for them. they saw you in the streets or at downtown bars, sometimes at a corner table of ozzie’s. you were a mystery that preferred bringing misery.

little to no people knew of your background. it was swept under the rug to never be looked at again, and maybe lucifer helped with that. you were an angel before, way back when the rules were more strict and heaven was nothing more than a guarded kingdom.

“just one chance, y/n!” adam urged. “one date — that is all i ask for!”

you scoffed at his antics, growing used to his advances of being asked for your hand. “how many times do i have to say i’m not interested? i have work. get going before sera is on my ass.”

sera. your old boss and best friend — everything you worked towards was being at her level — instead came crashing down when you disagreed with the exterminations. adam watched you fall, but sera was the cause.

downstairs, lucifer helped cover it up. it was big talk around hell for quite some time until it was thrown under the rug and you could live in peace. while your power cannot compare to the rulers of hell, it comes close. you’re just careful of not showing that.

the radio demon always shown great interest in you — not that he knew you personally — but enjoyed your story like an old tale. while he isn’t sure which story is the real one, he enjoys the theories that you were just a hellborn that came up.

it was rosie who connected you both. she was a friend of yours, and one of the best cooks you’ve ever known.

“oh my stars! alastor! you have to come meet one of my good friends, you are going to love her!” rosie beckoned. “she is such a pumpkin and the cutest thing! oh, there she is! y/n!, over here sweet pea!” she strides towards your seated area.

you watched your friend gleefully place a hand on the man’s arm, her signature grin tugging at her lips. “this is alastor. alastor, this is y/n.”

it was nice to finally place a face to the name! he had a fondness to you from the start: sat with you at the small of your booth and chatted until nightfall, completely in awe of your welcoming personality.

but why wouldn’t you be welcoming? you are one of the main overlords, what is there to fear when nearly everyone is below you? alastor felt a sort of connection, a relation that you are no different than him.

his admiration only begins to grow from here and continues the more you interact. slowly, he becomes a part of your daily life and starts showing you off to the world that you are an “acquaintance.”

now it was no lie that your name started to spread around hell like a wildfire, especially to know your hiatus is officially over. back to the present of downtown bars and corner table at ozzie’s for dinner — your face was back up to being recognizable — and it was a wonderful change

it would not be until recent years when you would finally meet vox at an overlord meeting: his personality nearly matched yours. if not, then you both had a click that had you both in deep conversation right after.

you could imagine alastors dislike towards that interaction

“so you’re the big talk of hell, huh?” the host approached you with confidence inside and out. “my, what a pretty face! it’s practically made for television, how about we do something about that?” the moment brought your hand to shake his, vox brought you to his side with an arm over your shoulder as he walked you to your seat.

“what do you have in mind?” now, normally you don’t condone this behaviour — but he really piqued your interest. “it’s not like my face isn’t already noticed on the streets, for what reason does it need to be on billboards?”

“stunning features like yours should be shown off, and not just for the streets,” he emphasized. “here’s my card, we could talk more later, dear.”

alastor had a full front view of this interaction and a perfect angle of vox’s smug expression when he watched you tuck the card in your pocket.

now don’t get me wrong, adam has been watching.

he couldn’t let his sweetheart just go to hell like that! littered with sinners and demons and— you get the point. it was hard to recognize him with the mask he now wore, especially since he never made the effort to show himself to you.

what if you were angry at him? he seen your face fall when the topic of exterminating these wretched souls came up. he made a point to his angels that they do not touch a strand of your hair.

he can’t keep himself away from you though, not when there’s no bastards that are getting too cozy with you. his plans of coming back into your life needing to take a charge and fast.

coming down as he pleases to just see you, often keeping his mask on so no demon can see how he looks like. whisking you into the sky so you won’t be able to get away from him

he has your wings on display in heaven, don’t worry about it.

vox and alastor coming to find out someone from the heavens is coming to see you? this is by far the first time in history they will ever come into an agreement of something: no angel hands should ever touch your skin.

alastor makes it a point to constantly whisk you to the hotel, or sometimes his radio station to hide. “they won’t find you here, sweetheart! i’ll keep you safe.”

the way all three of them would become more and more possessive the more time you are with one or the other. you can’t say no, there is denial when wanting to just stay home alone. someone is always at your hip.

there is only so much time where you either kill one of them or they take you and hide forever: but forever isn’t long when adam has his angels searching for you each year.

“c’mon babe! we could go back up to heaven, i’ll pull some strings!” adam often confides.

“we could rule over hell with no one to undermine our power if we took the chance!” vox would persuade.

“we could hide forever and live however you desire if you just take my hand.” alastor chimes.

having these 3 men after you is something you do not want, especially when their obsession levels keep rising. at this rate, murder is an option. it’s only the matter of time.

#ᥫ᭡. #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #vox imagine #vox x yn #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox #alastor x yn #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel yandere #hazbin hotel adam x reader

[ridingthatd]

₊˚₊‧⁺˖ ITADORI AND HIS OLDER BROTHER

₊˚₊‧⁺˖ itadorixfem!reader, sukunaxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, fucking him and his brother, choso is fucked up, stalking

itadori was such a puppy coded type of boyfriend, he was such a sweetheart, he was the type of boyfriend who would pick you up playfully and spin you around just to earn a giggle from you in return, he's the type to insist to take a shower with you, he had a rule that both of you should always bath together- whenever you plan to shower, yuji is already taking his shirt off, revealing his chest covered tattoos, getting ready to join you. he's the type to cuddle you all day whenever you had period cramps-

but he was also the type to fuck you through it, insisting that filling you with his warm cum would make you feel better, insisting that him sucking on your sore boobs would relief the pain, insisting that him licking your blood-soak pussy would make you both feel good- he wasn't lying, a thing that always set you off that yuji acted differently in sex, whenever he would fuck you, it wasn't a sweet love making type, it was the type that would almost make you pass out from being to stuffed with his monster of a cock, that would have you drooling, crossed eyed, out of your mind, that would leave bruises-marks on your body the next morning.

itadori was the type to love you with all his heart, to do anything for the people he loves, the people he care about, and the only people he cared about was you-

and his older brother choso, he looked nothing like your boyfriend- while your boyfriend held such a nice, approachable era around him, his brother was quite the opposite.

his whole era screamed not approachable, a cold glare was always painted on his face, he had a long dark hair that he would usually throw in a bun, he was tall a bit taller than yuji was, and of course he had tattoos, their gang tattoos- yea your boyfriend was in a gang, to be honest you already knew quite awhile before yuji decided to tell you, it was because your boyfriend always had difficulties in lying he made it so obvious that you weren't surprised once he told you.

both of them had the same exact tattoos, but choso had one tattoo itadori didn't have- it was the tattoo on his face, a straight line painted on his nose.

choso have always wanted you- more like him and his little brother have always wanted you. they been stalking you for a year, ever since they saw you in the club where they had a gang meeting, you wouldn't leave their mind, so they stalked you, they both were fucked up in head, loving the feeling of watching you, your every step, everything you do without you knowing, loving the feeling of watching you moan, and whine in the shower as you use your little fingers to get off.

choso insisted that his little brother should get with you first, claim you first, before anyone else gets to do that before them- he knows he wouldn't let that happen, he would shred whoever dare to lay as much as a finger on you expect him and itadori.

choso sit on the guests bed, he was in the apartment of his little brother, staying in for a little, he always do his causal visits. loving the way you try so hard to hide your attraction to him, staring at him with your fuck me eyes, so tempting.

what would it feel like? to have your warm, wet pussy clutch around him, have the tip of his dick catch at the tight entrance and not let him go, demanding him right back in until he’s sheathed balls deep, his throbbing shaft engulfed and secure and feeling so good. and the day has finally come-

tears and hick ups falls from your lips, as your boyfriends brother, tease you, not letting you cum for the 3rd time. drool leaves your lips connecting your tongue to itadoris tongue as he pulls back, after he spat inside of your mouth, that was half opened the whole time not being able to stop your whines.

"aw look at her, such a pretty little baby, you wanna cum on my brothers tongue? you wanna squirt on his face?" yuji darkly speak out, as he harhsly twist your nipples between his thumb and index finger, rolling it.

you glance down between your thighs to see choso already hungrily staring at you, groaning and slurping on your pussy as if he's feasting on his prey, his huge thick fingers roughly going in-out of your cunt making loud wet noises.

"cum" this is all choso needed to say before you arch your back, your thighs shake, and clear liquid comes out squirting, gushing his whole face with it, choso opens his mouth and let it land directly in his mouth as if he's drinking from a fountain of a goddess. yuji couldn't help but groan at the sight, mouth watering wanting to taste your juice too.

as you limblessly lay down, not having the energy to move a muscle after all the teasing, your boyfriend pick you up and make you lay down on his chest, as he coo at you, showering your face with kisses- you were about to relax into his embrace but you feel his huge cock, rub on your pussy and make it's way inside of you- you whimper.

"shhh it's okay, it's okay leme keep my cock warm and good inside of your pretty little pussy yea?" itadori whispers next your ear, sucking on the tender spot on your neck, you feel chosos huge hands grab your ass and roughly lift you and slam you down his brothers cock, you gasp- he didn't leave any room for you to breath as he keep repeating the process, shoving you up-down, as he lean in, his chest on your back.

"you like that? is my little brothers cock filling you good?" he whispers next to your right ear, trailing his nose down your neck, as yuji suck on your bouncing nipples- clearly to lost in your pussy to keep on what his brother is doing.

you stiffen once you feel a cold metal on your asshole, not quite sure what it is, you don't realize what it is till you feel the warm, twitching cock of choso- it was a piercing, choso had a piercing on his cock. he slowly spread your cheeks, and circle your hole with his cock, before he gently start making his way in, tearing through your ass.

"fuck she got even more tighter fuck fuck fuck" you glance down at your boyfriend he was rocking his hips up your pussy, fucked out his mind, this sight of him was such a turn on that you lean down to suck on his lips, while making clear access for choso to shove his entire cock in.

you choke not being able to breath, " to- to much to much to much" you cry out crawling your nails on yuji chest trying to escape his brothers cock that teared into your ass. choso laughs darkly- it was the first time you heared him laughing before he grabs your hips and shoved you towards him.

"you can't run little pet, now you're finally mine i won't ever let you go" he roughly grabs your hair and slams into you, ignoring your cry out, itadori grabs your chin, leading your lips to his, as he keeps humping up your pussy.

you were so filled that you think both of their cocks might come out your nose, your mind was fuggy to much pleasure on your body, all you could think about was their massive cocks, thoughts only circling around dick, dick, dick, dick.

"we going to cum inside of both of yours holes baby, fill you in so so so so good" itadori whine, as he spills his warm white liquid inside of you- you can feel his thighs shaking, eyes crossed so fucked out. just like you were.

"now it's my turn" choso groans out before he fills your tight ass, not stopping till every single drop was inside of you. you soon follow him squirting on yujis cock helpsly being sandwiched by both of them.

"round 2?" itadori grins.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ end ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ

#itadori x reader #choso x reader #itadori smut #itadori yuji x reader #itadori x y/n #itadori x you #jjk itadori #itadori yuji #jujutsu itadori #choso #choso smut #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso x you #choso x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujtsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader #gojo saturo

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Corporate Rivals

Bruce is really excited to hire a boy genius from a small time town. He found him by accident while scrolling through some creative writing competition past winners on various school sites. He originally wanted ideas for his own contest for the annual Wayne Young Writers Scholarship when he stumbled up Amity Parks Youth Authors.

Daniel Fenton's science fiction had won second place, and Bruce thinks he only lost due to the judges not realizing all the science of the gadgets his charaters used were real. Real, well explain and proper research. Daniel obviously knew his stuff and knew it well.

He had reached out to Daniel with a science scholarship opportunity, wanting to see what he would come up with. He gave him a basic assignment asking him to fulfill a prompt "Software or Hardware development for disabled" in either theory or model. If he created something worthwhile, Bruce would send him ten grand.

Daniel did not disappoint, not only doing the theory paper but also sending back a prototype of a pocket ASL translator. It would be an app on a phone that would have an AI watching through a camera of the person doing sign language and say out loud what the person was saying. It had a few bugs here and there, but for a high schooler, those were very impressive accomplishments.

Bruce found himself sponsoring the boy for early high school graduation. The young Fenton boy was a genius just like his parents, but he lacked proper motivation. Bruce suspected it was due to his school not challenging him enough much like Tim.

When Daniel got his diploma Bruce offered a few rid to Gotham University with the condition he would be a employee at WE. Daniel agreed under the condition it was as a proper employee and not a unpaid intern. A little daring for a kid getting already a amazing deal but Bruce liked his moxy and agreed.

Daniel Fenton was to be a worker in the RD department for WE tech in one week.

He couldn't wait to introduce him to Tim. Two young geniuses would get along swimmingly with their shared brain prowess!

______________________________________

Tim hated the new guy.

They were the same age, but everyone acted like he was amazing for finishing high school and starting university while also being a top WE reseacher and Devloper at such a young age.

Oh Tim was CEO, but as many people have whispered, he didn't graduated Highschool or have a GED so the only reason he got to be CEO was because of nepotism. Danny on the other hand got his position through hard work.

Which was ironic, seeing as the company has never done so well since Tim came on board. Their sales, PR, and production numbers all tripled because of him. Danny, on the other hand, was a sloth with little to no ambition. He didn't even work well with others! He mostly did solo projects and everyone seemed fine with that since genius "need their own space"

Tim has been networking since he was three years old, and failure to do so had always reflected badly on him and his company. He spent his entire life careful choosing his words and his actions. Even his appearance, what he wore, his hairstyle even the hand gesture when he talked, were planned before hand.

Then comes Fenton, who avoids crowds, dressed in the worst formal wear Tim has ever seen . Black jeans were not formal!- and acted like this important office was just a after school hang out spot. Now Tim was much more laid back than his board co-workers, who were all in their fifties or older, and even more relax then the mangers or superiors of lower stations but even he could not understand Fenton blaring music, bags of chips lingering everywhere and his ordination skills were none existing!

Not to mention the fact Daniel didn't believe in using computers unless he had to. His office was covered in towers of paper that he scribbled and work on! It was such a waste!

And yet, despite all of that, Daniel was rapidly becoming an asset to WE. His ASL translator app wasn't finished, but it had everyone buzzing with excitement and would be well received when it was released with Wayne Phones as a built in app.

Tim tried to avoid him as best he could least he get offended by his lack of work proper behavior

Daniel Fenton did not understand what it meant to put your all into something that you lost yourself along the way. Best to ignore him.

________________________________________

Danny couldn't stand his company CEO. Timothy Drake reminded him a little too much of the A-listers but without the bulling bit. Somehow, that made it worse.

Timothy was popular because he was well liked. He didn't need to relay on his good looks or aggression to make other yeild to him like Paulina or Dash. Even if he was ridiculously good looking to the point, Danny confused him for a siren when he met him.

He had the ability to walk into any room and take command if it. Timothy didn't even need to speak, his very presence commanded attention and awe. Not to mention how great he was at his job.

WE had always been a popular corporation but under Timothy's command they rose to one of the most important corporations in the world. Bruce Wayne was raised to run a company, Timothy Drake was born to run it. There was a large enough difference between the two that anyone could see Timothy was superior at running things.

Danny was nothing like that. He couldn't talk to people, couldn't make them like him, and often he was overlooked for his sister or his wacky but loveable parents.

He was the other Febton. The one that was there and nothing else. A few months ago he was even considered the dumb Fenton, who somehow was skipped over for intelligence.

Then he wrote a little story and everything changed.

Danny turned out to be a proper Fenton, after all, having gotten the attention of Bruce Wayne for his mind. His parents haven't been so proud of him in a long time, and he found himself accepting the job position after graduating high school early before he knew it.

Along with the job came a move to Gotham city. He went after debating it a great deal with his family and friends, but the deal was too sweet to turn down. Now he was in Gothem and he knew absolutely no one.

Danny didn't know how to make new friends here. Tucker and Sam had been the ones to approach him at the beginning of their friendships. He also was scared of getting close to his co-worker less they suspect his Phantom powers.

He knew that Metas was not welcome, and he thought Batman wouldn't care that he was technically dead and not with a meta gene.

So he focused on his work, avoiding large crowds and keeping his head down. He would turn on music to help pass the loneliness and would gater papers to write down his thoughts less they made him mad by running around his head all day.

This anxious insecurity was something Timothy Drake would never understand. He just shone like a fallen star, dazzling the masses with his neat press suits, easy charisma, and intelligent bedroom eyes. Best to ignore him.

________________________________________

Dick never really ventured to WE now that he moved out. He made a habit of trying to visit Tim every two weeks for lunch to fix this. He also really wanted to spend more one on one time with his little brother now that they reconsidled from Bruce's timeline fiasco.

He was still well known by the employees, even new ones, so when Dick arrived to the lobby he was waved in by security. The receptionists were all huddled together muttering to eachother and missed his entrance since security didn't call out to him.

Dick could tell the gossip they were talking about was juicy based on the way Lola was wiggling her eyebrows and Stacy and Isaiah's reaction.

He creeps closer to the front desk, hoping to hear something good.

"Isn't that against the rules?" Isaiah asks.

"WE doesn't have anything like that. Not since Thomas Wayne married his old PA and had Bruce. I think it's cute that Mr.Drake is following in his adoptive Grandfather's footsteps."

Dick paused, shocked. Tim liked someone at WE!?

"They aren't even dating yet, Lola"

"Yeah but you can cut the sexual tension with a- Mr. Grayson! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. How can I help you?"

Dick blinks. "Oh I'm here to see Tim for lunch. But what was that about Tim you were saying?"

The woman pales as the other two quickly become busy with some email or another.

"Oh, um, I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn't have -"

"It's fine I don't mind a little chat between co-workers. I'm just curious"

Lola stares before nervously blurting "Rumor has it that um, Mr.Drake has a thing for Daniel Fenton"

"The new boy genius?" Dick thinks about it considering what he knows of Tim's type and his past preferences in partners before nodding "That tracks actually"

He says his thanks and hurries away to Tim's office unaware he may have confirmed a relationship between Tim and Danny.

The gossip circles in WE exploded with the news everyone careful not to let the two subjects hear a whisper.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Corporate Rivals #Dead Tired #Danny and Tim are jealous of the other #but also kind think the other is hot #Bruce just wanted a play date for his smart boy #Dick is a gossip past it on #Part 1

[midnightarcheress]

cowgirl

a little bar challenge characters: simon 'ghost' riley, john 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick, john price cw: nsfw, fem!reader, tf141 lusting for their teammate, idk there's nothing much

"i'm not going on that!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms at the man in front of you.

the buzzing of a bar after a successful mission was a familiar sound for the task force. the glasses clinking, the chatter of old and new friends, the horrible background music, and the abhorrent pick-up lines would, weirdly enough, calm your nerves after days covered in heavy gear and harboring pent-up stress. or maybe the source of your mind's serenity was just the alcohol already flowing on your bloodstream, courtesy of the three tequila shots you were - willingly - forced into drinking.

"come on, bonnie, it will be fun!" Soap said, pointing at the sign propped above the mechanical bull, "besides, ye can win the hat for us."

you scoffed, glancing at the direction the scot referred, right after seeing another contender fall to the bouncy mat under the bull, followed by a string of boo's from the watchful horde. bold red lettering stated 'break the bar's record and win a cowboy hat!', tempting drunk custumers into fooling themselves for a measly prize.

"i bet she's scared," Gaz prompted, adding fuel to Johnny's pleas, "don't wanna be mocked by the crowd."

you rolled your eyes in response, "i'm not scared, Gaz, i just don't see what all the fuss is about. why don't you do it?"

"nuh-uh, don't turn this on me, missy. you're the one being challenged here," he retorted, earning a soundful hum from Soap, "tell you this, if you manage to stay there for a full minute, i'll pay you a twenty. don't even have to stand the whole three minutes of the record."

Ghost and Price stayed quiet during the whole exchange, unimpressed by the trio's shenanigans. they had endured too many drinking competitions, bets, dares, arguments and blatantly stupid ideas coming from the youngsters of the squad over the years, so nothing fazed the two superiors. underneath their apathy, however, lied a real sense of entertainment, illustrated by discreet smirks after particularly dumb comments - usually dropped by Soap's mouth.

"make it a fifty and we have a deal." you smirked, sipping from your beer pint. if you were gonna humiliate yourself in public, it better be for real cash.

"fifty if you break the record, how does that sound?"

after a second of pondering and a few too many glances at the machine's movements, studying it meticulously to engrave how to properly react when the controller jolts the apparatus from side to side, you uttered a hesitant yes, winning a cheerful chant from your friends and some whistles from the audience. 

you stepped on the mat and quickly hopped on the mechanical bull, adjusting your legs around the fake saddle. it shouldn't be that hard, right? the initial movements were easy - just holding on the chord and letting the laws of motion do the work. you didn't want to admit, but it was actually pretty fun.

eventually, the controller decided he was being too gentle and started picking up the pace, making your body rock back and forth on bull, decision that knocked the air out of your lungs for a split second, before you composed yourself and tightened your grip on the handles like your life depended on it. the crowd shouted gleefully, encouraging you to push through, despite a few snarky comments preying on your fall, just the expected.

what you didn't expect - and neither realized - was the way your teammates were reacting.

Gaz stood there with his jaw almost reaching the floor, being impressed not only by your sturdy grip, but mostly by the way your back arched when the machine tilted forward, defining your muscles through the skin-tight fabric of your shirt. even if you didn't endure the whole minute from the initial bet, he was willing to give you his entire wallet, just to watch you ride it again, and definitely not to imagine you bouncing on his lap for a little longer.

Soap, who has always been aware of your beauty, suddenly had to sit down after feeling his pants tighten at the sight of your plump ass jiggling due the repeated impacts on the bull's back, in desperate attempts to grind yourself. in addition, the tiniest bit of your lacy underwear peeking out of the dark jeans that hugged your hips flawlessly wasn't helping with his situation.

the daring smile that painted your lips, juxtaposing the concentrated frown of your eyes as you tried your best to not fall during an exceptionally wild movement, only supplied Ghost's cock with an overflow of blood, twitching at the view of your plush thighs clenching around the bucking machine whenever it defied your determination by leaning too much on the sides, shaking to make you collapse on the mat.

Price, however, acted as gentleman the whole time, just admiring your ability and strength to stay clutched to the unpredictable machinery. that, of course, was only until he got a view of your perfectly round tits, taunting the edges of your low-cut top and threatening to spill out at any given minute, ready to give him a real show. the adrenaline-filled flush that gave your cheeks an innocent pink hue, felt very similar to the sudden rush on his shaft that made your captain almost choke on his scotch.

three minutes and forty-seven seconds.

"that was so much fun!" your giggly shout and stumbling figure getting closer to the group was enough to snap the men out of their trance. they quickly took notice of your wide grin and the brown cowboy hat placed on your head, followed by the loud screaming of the public that just witnessed the bar's record being broken. 

"come on, pay up, Gaz." you said, sticking your palm to receive your well deserved money in a contained victory dance.

the four men glanced at each other, gathering the courage to speak up after your little performance that had them weak on the knees for a colleague. 

"didn't think you had it in ye, bonnie." Soap stated as Gaz reached for the wallet in his back pocket, almost considering giving you a fat tip for the spectacle. the sergeants were certainly doing a poor job in hiding the blush on their cheeks and small beads of sweat on their foreheads, consequence of trying to ignore the tent formed on their trousers.

your superiors, on the contrary, remained quiet and seemingly undisturbed by the previous scene, silently sipping from their glasses but still watching the chatting trio. only now, they wouldn't dare to get up and risk the others - specifically you - noticing their throbbing cocks marking their pants, yearning for the touch of your silky flesh.

after collecting your gains, you rapidly swayed to the bar counter, ordering a new drink with your sweet, sweet money, while the task force members ultimately etched the sight of you riding the mechanical bull in the deepest corner of their brains - saving the images for the great release when you all get back to base.

okay this is my first official thingy i feel so silly. also english is not my first language so...

#cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #tf141 #tf141 x reader #ghost cod #soap cod #gaz cod #fem!reader #cod mw #cod mw2 #oneshot #nyx writes ☾ #midnightarcheress

[jongseongsnudes]

kiss me

bff!jake. 1.6k words. suggestive with a bratty you and a horny jake sim. (part two)

“hey.”

silence.

“jake.”

more silence.

“jake sim!”

“what?” he says nonchalantly back at you, his eyes still plastered on the screen ahead as his fingers continued tapping away at the keyboard, “what is it? i’m playing-”

“can we go to bed... it’s almost 3 in the morning...”

and the silence continues.

you could only sigh at yourself, knowing just how much he loved gaming but you had hoped he would at least spend a bit of time with you tonight. especially after not seeing each other for the past week.

after an entire week of losing sleep and stressing over assignments, you wanted nothing more than to watch your favourite show while eating take out with your bestie. being with him put you weirdly at ease, his random dad jokes comforted you and his embrace put you to sleep faster than anything.

and he knew this!

yet here you were, having sat on his bed for the past 3 hours while he gamed away with the boys. how someone could stay so focused on the screen for 3 hours, you have no idea but you were now too tired to wait anymore.

“yeah- yeah you go sleep first, i still need to back the 02z boys up in this bitch-” he doesn’t bother looking at you as he says so before muttering off, “turn off the lights if you want.”

sigh.

you came here for a good night sleep and you were going to get it. one way or another.

so you come up with a plan, a rather evil plan you know would have a 98% chance of working in your favour.

a punishment more like it but he doesn’t need to know that.

“alright i’m gonna sleep first then,” you get off the bed and slip out of your over sized shirt, leaving on just your booty shorts and a crop top that barely did its job at covering your hardened nipples.

walking over to your best friend’s desk, you slightly lean over his shoulder to grab his can of soda, making sure to rub your chest on him. just a little. and luckily for you, the man was already in a thin singlet himself so the skin to skin contact immediately caught his attention.

if there’s one thing you know about your best friend is that although he’s no longer a 16 year old boy going through puberty, the man was just always horny. a perv.

on so many occasions, you had caught him staring at you a little too inappropriately. sometimes the man was even daring enough to place a hand on your ass whenever you’d cuddle with him in bed.

but never did you complain because it wasn’t like you didn’t secretly enjoy the attention anyway.

jake is hot, everyone knows that but you weren’t going to admit that to him. not with that big head of his.

“sorry. thirsty,” you take a sip from his almost empty can and release a very unnecessary moan, knowing that the man’s attention was now entirely on you, “damn. i’m gonna grab another.”

you don’t miss the sudden tent in his boxers or rather, it was hard to miss the big bulge that was caused by you. you want to laugh so badly, knowing that your plan was already working.

gently squeezing the back of his neck, you then walk out of the room, a smug grin now on your own face. you’re almost 100% sure that he’s watching you walk away, probably confused to why you’re practically naked in his apartment. yeah you’re comfortable with each other but you’ve always had a top on at the very least.

grabbing a can of beer instead, you hop up on the countertop to wait for the ending of your plan to play out. and as expected, the little puppy really does follow you into the kitchen. he doesn’t say anything but his gaze on your exposed skin was enough to tell you what he was thinking.

he likes what he’s seeing and so do you.

you’ve always found him attractive. from the moment you met him in your first year of college until now, jake sim just had to be the literal definition of your perfect type.

but you’ve never dared to cross that line, the thin line between friendship and there after. because not only was he your bestest friend but the man didn’t seem all that interested in you anyway.

“what’s up? i thought you were gaming?” you say so nonchalantly, even tilting your head like you weren’t already expecting this.

“i uh- um-” he seems distracted to say the very least, his eyes unable to detach themselves from your chest, “nothing. i’m done playing.”

mission success.

the familiar smell of his shampoo immediately fills the air as the man invades your space, a scent you’ve come to love. a scent that drove your mind totally insane.

“are you okay though? you seem... out of it?”

“probably just tired,” he inches even closer to you, his body now practically standing in between your spread thighs. his hands reaches out to rest on either sides of you, his face just inches away as he looks into your eyes.

there’s something different in his eyes tonight, compared to how he usually looks at you. they’re dark and dare you say... seemingly hungry for something.

“yeah? you’re not sick are you?” you pretend to be concerned, feeling his forehead but to your surprise, the man was actually burning under your touch, “wait oh my god, you’re burning. are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

jake’s voice was already usually low but this tone was something else. one that’s causing an immediate damp spot in your panties.

“okay... then should we go to bed? maybe you just need some sleep, jake sim.”

the visible gulp he makes from the way you say his full name further tells you that you’re close. close to your end goal.

“yeah maybe,” his eyes remain on you as his hand inches closer to your thigh, only slightly grazing the side. he looks slightly hesitant, as if testing the waters and you don’t blame him because you’re doing the same.

“want some? i can’t finish it,” you hand him the beer can, in which he takes and in one single gulp, finishes it. you’ve seen him do that so many times before but just something about this time is making you feel so hot.

you wait for him to move away but the man wraps his arms around your waist instead, pulling you flat against him. you gasp at the sudden move and wrap your own arms around his neck to stable yourself, a move you definitely know he appreciated with the way he’s smirking.

“lets get you to bed, beautiful,” his choice of petname gets you more worked up than you already were, your little act on the very brink of collasping. but you’re unsure if this was even acting anymore... because this was definitely not in your plan.

your legs naturally wrap around him as he carries you off the countertop with such ease. it feels so comfortable to be in his arms, like your body was meant for him to hold.

no one says a thing the entire way to the bedroom but it wasn’t needed. the way he’s watching you and the obvious tension that filled the air told you that perhaps your attraction wasn’t exactly one sided.

jake places you down amongst his sheets not long after and hovers over, freely pressing himself onto you. his hands quickly find their spot on your waist, his fingers gripping into your skin as if scared you were going to run away.

“you’re beautiful,” his head dips into the crook of your neck as he says so, his lips so dangerously close to your skin but he doesn’t go any further. as if teasing you, “so, so fucking beautiful.”

“jake...”

“god when you say my name like that- fuck you’re killing me,” he finally looks up at you again, this time going straight in to kiss you. no pause, no hesitation.

it takes a moment for you to realise that jake was actually kissing you, that this was real and not one of the fantasises you always had about him.

it feels like an explosion inside your body, a feeling you have never gotten from kissing anyone else. not even your ex boyfriends.

it feels so right to kiss him though and that fact scared you.

the man moves away only slightly, just enough for you to catch your breath as he places his forehead against yours.

“tell me to stop and i will,” his tone is stern, a tone you don’t hear much from someone like jake, “or i won’t be able to stop myself.”

the grey area was something you’ve always been afraid of, the thought of a ruined friendship always plaguing your brain. yet in this very moment, you know damn well yourself that this was no longer acting, that this wasn’t apart of your stupid game anymore.

but this was real and your next response was the decider of the relationship between you and jake sim.

“kiss me.”

to be continued.

​2024 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

#jongseongsnudes #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen scenario #enhypen imagine #enhypen fanfic #enhypen drabble #enhypen reaction #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake sim smut #jake sim fanfic #jake sim fic #jake sim hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enha #enhypen hard hours #jake hard hours #jake smut #jake fanfic #jake imagine #jake fic #jake x reader #sim jaeyun #jaeyun fic #jaeyun smut

[littleredwolf]

Hungry Eyes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: The team overhears Nat and Y/N's 'girl talk' through the comms and feelings surface as a result.

Warnings: Suggestive content. Sex references.

Words: 956

A/N: I don't know what this is or where it came from, but if this goes down well I may write up something a little spicy for a part 2 *eyebrow wiggle* PART 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE

--

“Bucky's done nothing but undress you with his eyes since you walked in,” Natasha's husky voice came over your earpiece and your eyes snapped to the super soldier on the other side of the room, your cheeks reddening to find him already staring in your direction. 

You let your gaze casually pass over him, playing the brief moment of eye contact off as a coincidence as you scanned the room for the mission, but your heart was pounding and you were sure he could probably hear it. 

“Doubtful,” you scoffed, though you couldn't ignore the tingle that travelled up your spine at the thought of Bucky finding you attractive. You'd had the hots for him for months, but your fear of rejection strongly outweighed your desire to tell him so you'd kept your little secret to yourself…and Nat of course. 

“Stop living in denial, anybody with half a brain can see how he practically drools over you every time he sees you,” Nat argued, and you rolled your eyes as you continued to survey the room. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s true.” 

“Stop watching me, you know it creeps me out when I can’t see you,” you hissed, eyes roaming the crowd in an attempt to spot the redhead. 

“If you could see me, I wouldn’t be very good at my job,” she teased, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes again. 

“Just hurry up and do your job, Romanoff - the quicker we finish and I can get out of this dress the better,” you stated, readjusting the silky garment that Natasha herself had picked out for you. It suited your cover well, but it was a little provocative for your usual tastes. 

“I’m sure Barnes would agree with you on that one…”

“As much as I’m enjoying watching Bucky squirm from this conversation, head’s up that this is an open channel,” Sam’s voice cutting in over the comms caused any reply you had prepared for Natasha to die on your tongue, the blood draining from your face as you turned to look at Bucky.  

The super soldier was no longer on his mark, but as you searched the crowd you caught a glimpse of him as he was making a swift exit. More than anything you wanted to follow him, to defuse the awkwardness and recover from the embarrassment of him overhearing Nat’s comments, but you stayed rooted to the spot, unable to leave your position. 

“Go,” Nat urged, as though sensing your inner turmoil. “Me and Sam have got this.”

A quick look towards Sam confirmed that he agreed, and you wasted no time in hurrying towards the same door Bucky had gone through moments ago. 

Surprisingly, he hadn’t gone very far, and you found him leaning against the wall in the foyer. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes landed on you, and you smiled sheepishly as you approached.  

“Hey Buck,” you softly said as you reached him. “Sorry about what you heard back there - Nat was just teasing, she didn’t mean any of it.” 

“Didn’t she?” He asked, raising a single eyebrow. 

“What?” You frowned, unsure how to interpret his response. There was a way you wanted this to go, but you didn’t want to get your wires crossed and make even more of a fool of yourself. 

“You said she didn’t mean any of it, but how can you be sure?” 

He pushed himself off the wall and fixed you with an intense gaze, making your knees weak and your breath short. You didn’t dare look away - afraid that if you did, this moment would end. 

“I-uh…I don’t know what you’re getting at here, Buck…” you stammered, too dumbfounded to form a better response. You were very aware of how close the two of you were and the smell of his cologne and warmth emanating from his body was making your brain short circuit. 

“Then let me show you.”

There was no hesitation as he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, and you melted into him with a whimper. The sound gave him the encouragement he was looking for and he spun you round so that he could press you up against the wall, moaning into your mouth as you raked your hands through his hair. 

Everything around you ceased to exist and all sense left you as you gave into your desires, the feeling of Bucky’s hands roaming your body setting your skin on fire. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you’d never even let yourself hope that Bucky might actually feel the same, yet here you were, making out with him while his sizable bulge pressed up against you. 

Had Sam not cleared his throat over the comms, you were sure you’d have let the super soldier take you right there and then, regardless of the fact that you were in public and on a mission.  

“Channel is still very much open, guys,” he informed, and Bucky’s eyes widened in horror as he pulled away. You giggled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. 

“I’m not even sorry,” you told Sam teasingly, straightening up and readjusting your dress. You were aware of Bucky’s eyes on you and you looked up to meet his hungry gaze. 

“I can’t wait to get that thing off you when we’re finished here,” he blurted, and you bit your lip as heat flooded your core. 

“Then we’d better hurry up and finish,” you replied, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the main room so that you could get the mission, and later on your clothes, out of the way. 

PART 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #avengers #sebastian stan #fatws #winter soldier #natasha romanoff #sam wilson

[januaryembrs]

CROSS MY HEART | Spencer Reid x wife!Reader

Request: read here

description: Spencer's wife struggles with the aftermath of JJ's confession

length: 1.5k

warnings: JJ's 14x15 confession spoilers (big ick, pull yourself together Jennifer) infidelity, thoughts of worthlessness, reader thinks Spencer is going to leave her for JJ.

authors note: I have loved JJ for all of fourteen seasons and fourteen episodes. this was a BIG ICK for me watching this won't lie

She should have known something was wrong the minute they left that damn store. 

It took her all of two seconds to throw herself into her husband’s arms, her voice choked with tears that had threatened to spill when she’d seen the video of Casey shooting at him, and she swore Spencer had never grabbed her so tight. 

“I thought you,” She sniffled, running her fingers through the back of his scalp, the entire spanse of his huge hands ran along her spine, counting every vertebra to make sure she was still intact, despite the fact he had been the one held hostage, “I thought he’d shot you- it came so close,” 

He hushed her mewls, a hand reaching to the back of her head and tucked her into his neck further, the sob rattling through her ribcage almost, almost, taking his mind entirely off what JJ had said in that stupid game of truth or dare. 

What the fuck did she mean she had always loved him? She had a husband and children who doted on her; Will, who loved every shred of her being like it was his only purpose in the world. His godsons who had known him as uncle Spencer since he’d held them in the hospital, covered in goop and looking like the cutest little aliens he’d ever seen. 

And yet JJ, his friend, perhaps one of his longest friends, was willing to throw it away for him? He, who had a wife he adored more than there were birds in the wind, leaves on an Autumn floor, more than there were galaxies in the damn cosmos. His wife, who had been there for him since the moment they’d met, who he’d known was the one since that first day she’d ran into him in the lobby, their files mixing together because neither of them had been watching where they were going, like one of those romcoms she forced him to watch and he pretended to hate, or like the silly thing she called fate that she insisted was very much real. 

Spencer was a man of statistics and numbers and facts; things he could see. But he was sure there was nothing in any textbook that could have ever made sense of how the one person so perfectly created for him, the blob of cells that made up his wife that seemed to call to his own as if they were coming home to one another, would have just so happened to bump into him on a random Tuesday in August. 

Most people waited decades for that kind of love, or something close, and he’d managed to get it at the ripe age of thirty three. 

And yet in the space of ten seconds, of four little words in a wretched game, he felt like the carpet had been pulled from beneath him. Because why would JJ, who saw as clearly as anyone else how much he cherished his wife and the future they were planning together, try to take that away from him?

And as if his own odd spiral of thoughts wasn’t a kick to the gut enough, his sweet wife had quickly released him from her grasp and thrown herself at JJ, who seemed to just now be understanding the gravity of her words as she looked around with wide eyes, tear stains wetting her cheeks, the guilt gnawing in her gut already. 

“JJ! Are you okay? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so scared,” She sobbed, wrapping her friend in a loving hug that was shakily reciprocated, like JJ was waiting for the second she would get a fat shiner to the nose for confessing such a thing. 

But that never happened. Instead, she pulled away from the frozen blonde woman, who looked like she could burst into tears then and there and apologise for everything until her face turned blue, and ran a kind hand over the JJ's hair, stroking it behind her ear tenderly as she tried to quell her cries because she wasn't the one who had been held at gunpoint. 

She didn’t know. It hit them both at the same time. She didn’t know what JJ had said, hadn’t even got an inkling into what had happened, and god did it make the sinking feeling in Spencer’s chest swallow itself up into something the size of the Mariana Trench. 

And what was left, what had for a second been a horrid mix of confusion, shock, fear and then another big dollop of confusion for good measure, quickly was dragged away by the current and replaced with anger. 

Anger that JJ could do something like this to his wife; he frankly didn’t care how her words had affected him, that if he had been single he would have been left feeling unworthy of her affection the first time it had been offered around, like there was something so disgustingly wrong with him this was what it took for her to say anything. He didn’t care about any of that. He cared that this would absolutely destroy his wife. 

And it was for that reason Spencer hurried the paramedics into fixing the small graze on his palm as he watched with boiling blood his wife tend to JJ like she would any other time her close friend was hurt in the field. He seethed whenever Jennifer would simper and avoid her friend's eyes, how his beautiful, caring, devoted wife would stroke the woman’s back and will her to talk, to tell her what to do to make it better.

Because it was her who should be fussing over his sweet wife, certainly not the other way around. 

But he couldn’t say that, not there at least, and so he didn’t, not until he had got the greenlight from the medics to leave and he had all but cut off the circulation in her fingers with how tight he’d held her hand as he led her to the car. 

Spencer said nothing, not wanting to fight when she forced him to sit shotgun as she climbed behind the wheel, not wanting to cause a commotion when there was a much bigger bombshell he was sitting on that he knew would change her feelings entirely. 

-

“What?” Her voice was soft still, a murmur in the quiet night air of their bedroom. She sat, fresh faced, minty breathed, kevlar vest long gone and replaced with one of his old Dr Who shirts and comfy bottoms.

She said the word again, like she hadn’t heard him, but judging by the way her expression had fallen into something dejected, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Sighing, drawing gentle motions up and down her legs with his warm hands, shuffled closer where he kneeled down in front of her submittingly. “JJ said that she has always loved me; that was her ‘truth’ in the game,”

“Well, she-she was lying right?” His wife said quickly, her voice shaking, trying to make sense of it herself. She didn’t get an answer right away, just her husband’s eyes casting down as he tried to think of the best thing to say, “Right, Spencer?” 

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly, and he saw immediately the way tears sprung to her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, her face warming in wet-anger, “But it doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, to me- baby, please don’t cry,”

“Ofcourse it changes things, Spencer, it’s JJ. She’s literally the hottest woman to walk the earth, Pen said you were like in love with her when you started the BAU, and now you have your chance,” She whimpered, fat tears rolling over her freshly moisturised cheeks, and he swore he felt his chest concave at her words. 

“My chance? I don’t want a chance, I want you,” Spencer said in earnest, his hands rubbing further and further up her legs until his hands went under her night shirt, grabbing onto the soft of her hips with pleading tenderness, “I want you forever, no matter what JJ or any other woman feels about me,” 

She sniffled pitifully, her eyes still unsure and he took it as a sign she needed more, so he leaned in fully to hug her to him. 

“But it’s JJ,” She said again, like that was going to change anything, and he shook his head, stroking over the back of her hair softly.

“I don't care,” He said, and she sniffed gently into the crook of his neck, his skin wetting with the contact. She finally wrapped her arms around him, and he knew he was close to getting it through to her, “I had the smallest crush on JJ, what, fifteen years ago? Honey, I want you for the rest of my life, and nothing and no one is going to change my mind about that, not even you.” 

“Really?” His sweet wife whispered tearfully, and he chuckled sadly, hating how hard she had cried that it had ripped the life from her voice. 

“Cross my heart,” He kissed her hairline softly, tipping her head upwards with one long, warm finger under her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her wetted lips, “Hope I never die,”

She smiled sorrowfully, kissing her husband as if it was the last time she could ever do so, hoping it made up for how puffy and ugly her tears had made her face. But he didn’t care, he never had, he thought she was perfect just the way she was.

And he’d remind her of that any time she thought otherwise. 

–

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #matthew grey gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

[luvnoirs]

quiet

paring: paige x fem!reader synopsis: reader and paige almost get caught by azzi warning(s): smut (MINORS DNI) word count: 978

a/n: this is barely proofread btw

"paige! if you don't open this fucking door, i swear to god!"

the room almost fell silent. your soft whimpers escaped through the hand paige held clamped over your mouth as she drove her fingers in and out of your pussy so excruciatingly slow that it made you squirm under her touch. her other hand was occupied with holding your thigh and pinning it down towards the bed, making sure your shaky legs stayed open and around her head comfortably.

azzi continued yelling from the opposite side of the locked door, but everything she said went in one ear and out the other. you could barely even comprehend the english coming out of her mouth right now.

though, you did remember azzi saying something about a phone when she first interrupted you two about a couple minutes ago. at first, you were alarmed, of course, and immediately started to push at paige's shoulders that rested between your thighs, but she simply and quietly reassured you that her door was locked, and told you to remain quiet before latching her tongue onto your clit. you couldn't help but to let out a small moan in response, explaining paige's hand over your mouth.

"paige, stop ignoring me and let me in! seriously, i cant find my phone and i think i left it on your dresser." azzi banged on the door once again and twisted the door knob impatiently. she was getting more annoyed by the second and part of you glanced towards the door, worried she would bust the door down each time her hard fists met the white decorated door.

normally, you wouldn't even dare to have sex in the presence of anyone else besides paige, but something about azzi being just feet away from you spread out across her best friend's bed, legs apart with paige eating you out as if her life depended on it, made you even more aroused. your skin felt like it was burning on paige's purple sheets and as you turned your attention back to between your legs, you were met with paige's eyes already on yours.

she looked at you curiously, slowly moving her hand away from your mouth. she raised her eyebrow, like she was challenging you to remain quiet without her help.

and it didn't help that she switched the angle of her fingers and used the tip of her tongue to flick back and forth on your already throbbing clit, evoking your hips to jerk up against her face as you cried out her name. your hand immediately flew to your face to cover your mouth, swallowing up the rest of your moans. you could feel paige's lips smirk against you, but as much as you wanted to swipe the smirk off her face, the need to cum was much stronger.

"paige!"

you used one hand to reach out for her head and pushed her deeper into you. you couldn't speak, so you were glad she took the hint to speed things up.

her lips latched onto your clit and she started to suck, her fingers still stretching you out, moving quickly through the slick juices that leaked from your pussy. but it wasn't long before she moved her hands to around the top of your thighs and pulled you into her face even more. your muffled cries filled the silent room and your legs tightened around her head as you imagined her talking you through it like she usually does.

there you go, ma... just like that

you rode into her face until you felt your orgasm rushing from the pit of your stomach, to washing all over your shaking body. you bit down on your hand to hold back a string of moans that threatened to fall from your lips, a few tears slipping down your cheeks from the overstimulating sensations of each one of paige's touches. you felt everything; from her hands that held the flesh of your thighs, massaging them softly, and her mouth helping you ride of your orgasm, even her blue eyes that roamed over your body as you arched your back and stared at the ceiling with glossy eyes.

and when your body slumped against the bed, bones feeling like jello, is when paige lifted her head and shuffled her body to position over yours. her lips were gleaming with your juices but she met yours with a kiss anyways. it was honestly a miracle that you managed to stay relatively quiet, you thanked your sore hand for that.

but before you two could do anything else, another loud bang startled you two and paige groaned in annoyance as she pulled away.

"i'll do this all day if i have to!"

you nudged paige and gestured your head towards the door. she rolled her eyes and climbed off the the bed, looking on her dresser for the phone azzi spoke about for these past few minutes. and once she found it, she began to reach for it but paused and reached for a tissue instead. you held back a laugh as paige used the tissue to grab the phone instead of using her previously occupied fingers.

paige opened the door, but only wide enough so that she could fit her head and hand through, handing her the phone.

"you would lose your head if it wasn't attached to your neck." paige said.

before azzi could retort back, she caught a glimpse of the tissue and stared at paige's hand for a few seconds, then back at the blonde inquisitively. it was when azzi slowly took the phone from her grasp when it finally clicked for her, and a disgusted look replaced her confused one.

"oh, you guys are sick." azzi gagged and quickly wiped her phone with her shirt in disgust.

"you're welcome to watch next time." paige joked with a smirk, earning a hit to the head from a pillow you aimed at her.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #wbb #wlw

[dollyhao]

succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie

summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.

toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.

cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words

༊*·˚

ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.

she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?

ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.

“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.

“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.

“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.

after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.

she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.

you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.

you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.

you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.

you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.

you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”

she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.

you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.

you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.

ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.

you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.

“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.

༊*·˚

I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.

signed: ellie williams

#wlw #lesbian #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #loser ellie #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

[vanteguccir]

Left alone | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where, after a difficult week, Matt takes out all his stress on Y/N, causing great damage to their relationship.

Warning: Fighting, yelling, cursing, dark thoughts. ANGST!

Requested?: Yes, by anons and @ivoncheetooo1239

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"I don't know where you want to get with that, Matt." Y/N sighed, closing her eyes tightly for a few minutes before opening them again, keeping them fixed on the road in front of the car. She had her head resting on her right hand, and her elbow braced next to the passenger door window.

Matt, as usual, had gone to pick up Y/N from work after her shift, but he was surprised to have to wait for an hour in the car for his girlfriend to finally be released, as her boss had demanded that she had to work overtime.

Despite being wrong, Matt felt furious.

His week was more than hectic with the start of sales of the 6 million clothing collection, as he and his brothers had to spend hours autographing photos of themselves that would go with each order. In addition to - by Nick and Chris's choice -, the three of them were the ones who hand-packed the first ones, which resulted in Matt having to stay awake until late hours, and waking up early everyday to fulfill his other tasks.

With all that, having to sit in his car for an hour, with only his phone and in such an uncomfortable seat seemed to increase his irritation, and he couldn't help but start an argument with his girlfriend, feeling like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"I'm just saying that you don't stop at home anymore. You just work all day, as if it was your number one priority in life. And now you've started this nonsense of working overtime!" Matt accused, gesturing exaggeratedly with his right hand while keeping his left one on the steering wheel.

"It's not like I asked to work overtime, Matt! You and your brothers have worked in a grocery store once, you know how it works-"

"Don't you dare bring up Chris and Nick's name. They have nothing to do with your lack of responsibility within a relationship." The boy took his eyes off the road momentarily, giving her a cold look that sent shivers running up her spine.

"Matt, you're being ridiculous! I understand your week has been tiring-" Matt cut the girl off again, shaking his head nervously.

"No, you don't know nothing, Y/N!" His tone was arrogant, a tone that the girl didn't remember ever hearing from him. "I'm exhausted because of my own work, and I still have to come and pick you up every day! And now you make me stay stuck in this car for an hour, waiting for Miss Perfect here to decide to leave." His voice gradually increased in volume.

Y/N could already feel the sensations of the ugly crying that was about to come, taking a deep breath and counting to 10 in her head.

"Then don't pick me up anymore, Matt! You were willing to come every day after my work just until some days ago, but if it's so hard for you now, don't come anymore." Y/N replied, her tone lower than her boyfriend's but still carrying much stress.

"How can you be so ungrateful?" Matt shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel violently.

"Matt, look, I'm sorry- Hey, keep your eyes on the road!" Y/N ignored the pang she felt in her heart at the brunette's words, fear rising through her veins as she saw the car move further away from the main road, as a result of his lack of attention.

Her eyes were wide as she raised her hands, ready to grab the steering wheel if necessary.

"You know what? I'm done." Matt spoke through gritted teeth, turning the car sharply to the right until it stopped on the side of the road.

"What are you doing? Matt?" Y/N asked, her breath coming out shakily as her eyes traveled down the dark, deserted street, to her boyfriend's face, which seemed to be covered in a gray cloud of hate.

"I'm done with this. If you don't want to take responsibility for your own mistakes and don't understand the seriousness of this relationship like I do, then maybe it's not worth the effort." He unlocked the doors, crossing his arms and keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his nostrils flaring as a result of his hard breathing.

"M-Matt, don't do that." The girl tried, swallowing hard.

She reached out her hand towards him with the intention of gently touching his arm, but Matt pulling away roughly, as if she were a plague, made her stop abruptly for a few seconds, her hand slowly lowering.

“I need to think, Y/N.” He shook his head, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and laying his head in his hands, closing his eyes tightly. "Get out." He demanded sharply.

Y/N's eyes widened, her heart stopping momentarily.

"W-what? Are you crazy? Look at the time, Matt. How am I going to-"

"Get out." Matt interrupted her, not once looking up. His tone was flat and cold.

Y/N looked at him for a few more seconds, as if waiting for him to apologize and say it was all a sick joke. But that never happened.

She quickly pulled the car handle, grabbing her purse and getting out of the passenger seat. The cold night air hit her body with force as if needles were piercing her skin, eliciting a strong shiver from her members.

Her hand pushed the door hard, closing it, the sound echoing like a dull thud. Her eyes watched the car restart not even a second later, screeching away.

Y/N remained still for a few seconds - or minutes -, watching Matt's car disappear into the distance, her hope of him turning around slowly disappearing.

"Come back." Her voice sounded so broken, just like her insides. "P-please."

She spun around, taking note of the street completely deserted of cars or humans, the only source of life being the streetlights.

The girl quickly hooked her purse onto her right shoulder, crossing her arms tightly around her torso and beginning the steps of the long walk she would have to take to get home - if she even could call that place her home anymore. The possibility of Matt kicking her out after the events made her legs tremble.

Her throat started to hurt from the crying that she was still holding back. The emotions rising in her chest were like bile in her throat; It burned and hurt like never before. Her heart felt like it was being crushed by a human hand, and it didn't take long for loud sobs to escape her lips, her eyes stinging from the hot tears in contact with the freezing wind.

It was minutes of walking without stopping, her feet ached from the tension in her body, a result of the intense cold and the several times she turned back, checking if she wasn't being followed.

The familiar street soon took over her blurred vision, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Thick tears were still rolling from her eyes, but her sobs had stopped, being replaced by small sniffles.

Y/N shuffled down the sidewalk, passing the houses neighboring hers, before finally stopping in front of her front door. Her hands, practically frozen by the cold, opened her purse in a quick movement, rummaging through the smaller pockets, looking for the key.

She closed her eyes tightly when she couldn't find it, vaguely remembering just throwing it in the glove compartment of Matt's car that morning since she was in such a rush and still eating her breakfast.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she fished out her phone, cursing under her breath when she noticed that the battery was almost all gone. Just her lucky day.

She quickly unlocked the screen, going into her contact list and clicking on Chris's one. The boy answered on the second ring, surprising Y/N.

"Y/N? Thank God, where are you guys?" Chris's voice sounded relieved. Y/N frowned, her mind creating thousands of horrible scenarios as to why Matt hadn't gotten home yet.

The path she took, which took her almost 30 minutes of walking - or more, since she was walking slowly due to the cold - would not even take 15 minutes by car.

"C-Chris, open the door for me. Please." Her voice was broken, her teeth chattering as her body felt the temperature drop even more now that she stood still.

"Are you out there? Alone?" He asked exasperatedly. The sound of his bed shuffling sounded from behind, probably the result of him getting up.

"Yeah... Just hurry, please." Y/N repeated, her tone completely vulnerable.

The line went dead at the same instant. Her right hand - which was holding the device - moved away from her ear quickly, her eyes only finding the negative battery icon.

She threw her phone into her purse again, her eyes prickling with new tears that wanted to flow. Her mind created terrible thoughts about herself and her day, and all she wanted most was to sleep and perhaps never wake up again.

The sound of keys sounded on the other side of the door seconds before it was abruptly opened. Chris's figure appeared, his wide eyes carrying immense concern as they roamed Y/N's body, seeming to search for any injuries.

"Oh my God, you're freezing." He confirmed when he noticed her shaking, gently pulling her inside, before closing the door again. He rubbed his hands over Y/N's arms, which, even though they were covered by the fluffy jacket, were still extremely cold.

The warm air from the heater inside the house welcomed the girl's body gracefully, surrounding her like a thin blanket. She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Where the hell is Matt? I thought he was going to pick you up." Chris asked exasperatedly, helping her take her purse off her shoulder, hanging it on the rack next to the door.

Y/N felt her eyes fill with tears again at the mention of her boyfriend's name. An ugly sound of choked sobs escaping her throat caught Chris's attention, who stopped his movements and turned his eyes to her.

"Oh no, what did he do?" His tone was gentle as he approached, pulling her into a tight hug as he watched her shake her head in denial repeatedly, her lips trembling. "Let's go to my room, you need a hot shower and fresh clothes."

Chris slowly stepped away, keeping one of his hands on Y/N's shoulders, guiding her through the kitchen and down the stairs towards his own room.

The door was already open - being left like that when the boy rushed after receiving her call -, the two of them just passing through it before Chris closed it, keeping the hot air trapped between the four walls.

"Go take a shower, I'll get you some new clothes from your closet, okay? There's a clean towel in the cabinet under the sink." The boy indicated, watching his sister-in-law nod weakly, a low "thank you" escaping her lips before she could enter the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It didn't take long for Y/N to step out again, already dressed in the Fresh Love sweatshirt set that Chris placed on the sink - just by putting his arm between the door and the frame.

Even though she wanted to melt like hot water and go down the drain just like her tears that fell imperceptibly, her feet hurt too much to support her weight for even another minute, begging for a rest.

Chris was sitting on the right side of the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs above the duvet, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, seeming to be waiting for her.

The sound of the bathroom door closing attracted his attention, and he quickly locked his cell, putting it on the bedside table before tapping the empty space next to him, silently calling Y/N to sit there.

The girl walked to the indicated side, lifting the duvet and sitting on the mattress, staying in the same position as Chris, but with her legs covered.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" He asked calmly, watching her closely, trying to read her expressions, but seeing only an ocean of pain in every line of her face and eyes.

"Matt left me in the middle of the road." She swallowed hard, shaking her head while closing her eyes tightly. "We had a fight. My boss demanded from me to work overtime and I forgot to tell Matt, so he ended up waiting for me for an hour in his car. He was tired from the day and the week, and I think the stress built up on both our sides, and he just started yelling at me." Y/N shrugged, sniffing momentarily, trying to hold back her tears.

"Wait, he left you in the middle of the road, alone and in the cold? To come home walking?" Chris's eyes widened, a look of disbelief occupying his blue orbs as he tried to process the information.

"Yeah." The girl's voice sounded low and vulnerable, her head lowering and her eyes focusing on her hands above the duvet, feeling embarrassed by her boyfriend's actions. "I tried to intervene at some point, but he was so mad." She took a deep breath, biting her bottom lip hard, the pain almost numb next to the one she felt in her heart. "I don't know what I did wrong, Chris." Her voice broke, a dry sob escaping her throat.

"I'm so sorry for my brother's actions, Y/N." Chris sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I promise you did absolutely nothing wrong. Don't let those thoughts get the best of you."

"I just... Maybe I'm not really giving our relationship enough credit. Or maybe I'm not enough to fit into Matt's life patterns and busy days." She douted, playing with her fingers as a nervous act.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep? I imagine how tired you are and it's late. We can talk about this tomorrow, but try to clean your mind for now, okay?" He suggested.

Chris helped her lay down after receiving a nod of agreement, adjusting the duvet over her body. The girl moved her head, laying it on his left thigh, seeking comfort. He quickly put his hand on her hair, stroking the area calmly, lulling her into sleep.

After making sure she was already dreaming, the boy moved her slowly - so as not to wake her -, laying her completely on the mattress before getting up. He sat down in his gaming chair, crossing his legs on the seat.

Chris closed his eyes tightly, massaging his temples, trying to reduce the tension there. His eyes remained on Y/N's figure, caring for her sleep like a worried older brother, longing to have the power to erase the entire event from the girl's memory.

Matt would hear from him when he arrived.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

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