#and whenever I do that I get light headed

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : light angst, shouting, reader stands up for bucky, kinda open-ended summary : bucky feels weird things in his stomach whenever he thinks about you, he’s convinced he’s getting sick wc : 1.7k a/n : part two in the works :3

the avengers tower was a hive of activity. agents scurried in and out, stark’s gadgets beeped incessantly, and the hum of conversations filled the hallways. amidst the chaos, you’d carved out your own little routine - something steady to hold onto in a world that rarely stopped moving. and then there was bucky barnes. he was the quiet one, always on the edges of the action, as though he wasn’t sure where he fit in. you’d noticed him almost immediately when you moved in, not because he tried to stand out, but because he did the opposite.

every morning, he’d shuffle into the kitchen, head down, hair slightly messy from sleep. you’d offer him a soft “good morning,” trying not to sound too eager, and he’d nod or mumble something before retreating to the solitude of the gym or his room. his shyness only made you want to know him more. there was a depth to him, layers you were dying to peel back, but he seemed content - or maybe resigned - to keeping everyone at arm’s length.

still, you didn’t give up. you tried in small ways: leaving him a cup of coffee when you knew he’d be up early, asking if he’d want to join for movie nights, even offering him a quiet corner during team meetings when things got too loud. his answers were always polite but distant. it wasn’t rejection, not really, but it still left you wondering if you’d ever get through to him.

then came the day you overheard something that made your blood boil.

it happened in the common room. you’d been looking for a misplaced file when you caught snippets of a conversation between two junior agents. at first, you thought nothing of it - just the usual chatter that filled the tower. but then you heard bucky’s name, and your attention snapped to them like a rubber band.

“he’s just so… weird,” one of them said, his tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, come on, we’re supposed to trust him? after everything he’s done?”

“seriously,” the other agreed. “it’s like walking on eggshells around him. guy barely talks, and when he does, it’s just… creepy. i don’t know why they keep him around.”

rage bubbled up in your chest, hot and immediate. before you could stop yourself, you stepped into the room, your voice cutting through their laughter like a knife. “who do you think you are?”

the agents froze, their faces draining of color as they realized you’d been listening. one of them tried to stammer an excuse, but you weren’t having it.

“no, i want to know,” you said, your voice steady but sharp. “what gives you the right to talk about him like that? do you have any idea what he’s been through? what he’s overcome? or do you just like tearing people down because it makes you feel better about yourselves?”

they exchanged nervous glances, clearly searching for an exit, but you weren’t finished.

“bucky barnes has more strength in his pinky finger than you’ll ever have in your entire life. and if i hear either of you - either of you - say one more word about him, you’ll be reassigned so fast you won’t have time to pack your desks. understood?”

they mumbled something that sounded like agreement before bolting from the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding from the adrenaline.

unbeknownst to you, bucky had been standing just around the corner.

he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. he’d been on his way to the common room to grab a bottle of water when he heard your voice. at first, he’d thought you were just talking to someone, but as the words sank in, he realized you were defending him. you were angry - no, furious - on his behalf, and it left him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

no one had ever done that for him before.

days later, the memory still lingered. he couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, fire in your eyes, your voice unwavering. it was as though you’d burned yourself into his mind, and every time he thought about it, his chest tightened. it wasn’t just what you’d said; it was the way you’d said it, with so much conviction it made him feel… something he couldn’t quite name.

that night, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. his heart raced, his palms were clammy, and his stomach churned in a way that felt almost… pleasant? but also deeply unsettling. was he getting sick? that seemed impossible - the serum made sure of that. yet the symptoms were undeniable. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, heard your voice, and felt that strange, fluttering sensation in his chest.

by the next morning, he was convinced something was seriously wrong.

bucky had never been one to dwell on his feelings. survival, duty, and regret had occupied most of his thoughts for as long as he could remember. but now, as he sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor, he couldn’t ignore the storm swirling inside him. he felt… strange. his chest was tight, his thoughts were scattered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment he overheard you in the common room.

he should’ve stepped in, said something to those agents himself, but instead, he’d stood there like a coward while you defended him. the memory of your voice, sharp with anger, made his palms sweat. no one had ever spoken up for him like that. people either feared him or avoided him altogether. but you - you’d stood there, unwavering, because you believed he was worth it. the thought made his heart race in a way that felt entirely too unfamiliar.

it had to be some kind of illness, right? he couldn’t be sick - the serum wouldn’t allow it - but what else could explain the way his stomach flipped whenever you were around? or the way his hands fidgeted nervously whenever you said his name? bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. this was ridiculous. he needed answers.

and so, he turned to the only person he trusted to give him the truth.

“steve, something’s wrong with me,” bucky blurted out later that day. they were in the gym, steve halfway through a set of push-ups when bucky’s words made him pause mid-rep.

“wrong?” steve asked, pushing himself to his feet. “what do you mean?”

bucky hesitated, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s… i don’t know. i’ve been feeling weird lately. my heart’s racing, i can’t think straight, and every time i see - ” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “never mind. forget it.”

steve’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

bucky’s jaw tightened. “what? no. that’s not… that’s not it.”

“sure, buck,” steve said, his tone teasing. “you’re probably just coming down with something.”

bucky narrowed his eyes. “serum, remember? i don’t get sick.”

steve’s smile widened. “exactly.”

bucky scowled, realizing too late that steve wasn’t going to be any help. he mumbled a quick excuse and left, his frustration mounting. if steve wasn’t going to take him seriously, he’d just have to figure this out himself.

next on his list was sam. surely sam would have a straight answer for him.

“ you’re not dying, man,” sam said after bucky cornered him in the kitchen. “although, judging by the way you’re acting, you’d think the world was ending.”

bucky frowned. “i’m not acting any way.”

sam raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. look, maybe you just need to… i don’t know, talk to someone about it. someone who isn’t me.”

bucky groaned. “you’re no help.”

“at least i’m honest,” sam shot back, smirking as he left bucky alone with his thoughts.

it wasn’t until later that night, during a rare moment of quiet, that bucky found himself seeking out natasha. if anyone could give him a straight answer, it was her. she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through a book, when he approached.

“can i ask you something?” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

natasha glanced up, her expression unreadable. “always.”

bucky shifted awkwardly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “if… hypothetically… someone couldn’t stop thinking about another person, and it made them feel all… weird inside, what would you call that?”

natasha’s lips twitched, and for a moment, bucky thought she might laugh. but instead, she closed her book and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “weird how?”

bucky struggled to find the words. “just… weird. like, heart-racing, can’t-think-straight, stomach-doing-flips kind of weird.”

natasha studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. “sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

bucky blinked. “got what?”

she smirked. “you’ll figure it out.”

and just like that, she returned to her book, leaving bucky more confused than ever.

over the next few days, bucky’s “symptoms” only seemed to worsen. he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. the way you smiled, the sound of your laugh, even the little things you did - like leaving a cup of coffee on the counter for him - made his chest ache in the best possible way. it was maddening.

finally, in a last-ditch effort to make sense of what was happening, he sought out wanda. if anyone could give him clarity, it was her.

wanda listened patiently as bucky explained his predicament, her expression calm and composed. when he finished, she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“bucky,” she said gently, “you’re not sick.”

he frowned. “but - ”

“you’ve got a crush,” she said simply.

bucky’s heart stopped. “a crush?”

wanda nodded. “yes. and from the sound of it, it’s about time you did something about it.”

bucky stared at her, his mind racing. the idea felt foreign, almost impossible. but as he thought about you - the way you’d stood up for him, the way you’d always looked and spoken to him with so much warmth and understanding - he realized wanda was right.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[hiraethwrote]

ARE WE JUST FRIENDS?

pairing : osamu miya x f!reader summary : late in the evening your phone calls, and a desperate atsumu begs you to come pick up his brother who is not only drunk, but in an extremely bad mood — which results in your best friend behaving uncharacteristically mean cw : best friends to lovers, timeskip, ooc osamu (not sure, i struggle writing him), angsty, hurt to comfort, profanity, intoxication, subtle pining, some miscommunication, jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 2.5k

author's note : for my beautiful ave (@hiraethwa) as a part of @lale-txt's amazing hq secret santa event. ik i've taken my sweet time, and i hope the wait was worth it. due to a lil writing slump, and in general being intimidated by writing for hq, it ended up very different from what i initially planned, but i still hope you enjoy it <3 mwah

“What are you doing here?”

You drew a sharp breath, the venom in his voice catching you off guard.

“Atsumu called me,” you sighed, wrapping your arms tighter around your body. You tried to convince yourself it was to shield yourself from the December cold, but you knew it was more in order to bring yourself a sense of comfort — Osamu’s hostile tone stung more than expected.

He scoffed instantly as his brother’s name left your lips, head turning away as you saw him aggressively roll his eyes.

“Of course he did,” he mumbled.

His complaint was loaded with unspoken feelings. All the years you had known him had thought you that much — your usual sweet and mellow best friend had a tendency to become passive aggressive whenever something really bothered him.

“Don’t be like that. Come on, get up.” Part of you wanted to retaliate with a just as snappy remark, but it would only cause you more problems in getting him to come with you, something you suspected was already laid out to be a difficult task.

When he didn’t do as you told him, you stepped closer, begrudgingly offering him your hand to help pull him to his feet. He only stared at it — an ugly glare usually reserved for his brother.

“Osamu,” you groaned in frustration, “it’s fucking freezing, won’t you please just get up!” Again he just huffed. “Stop acting like a child,” shaking your hand, hoping he would eventually accept the gesture.

Finally he turned to look at you, his eyes digging deep into you as there was a tight crease between his eyebrows — it made your stomach turn. He never looked at you like this. If you didn’t know any better, you would describe it as pure disgust, that he couldn’t imagine a worse place to be than in your presence.

It was tempting to turn on your heel and let him sulk in his lonesome, where he sat on the frosty grass outside the annual Christmas party his team put together, one he had hinted at for weeks he never even wanted to attend. But you remained persistent, mirroring his mean frown and challenging his glare.

Another scoff slipped out of him. Then he weakly swatted your hand away and got on his feet without your help. Once he stood straight, you noticed how his towering frame swayed ever so slightly from the alcohol still running through his body.

“What?” He spat, still maintaining the ugly eye contact that felt like an insult.

The kindness that usually wallowed in his eyes seemed to have gone dormant. And despite his cruel and uncharacteristic edge, you couldn’t help but to admire how pretty he was. The light snow falling slowly around you, landing in his hair before melting into little droplets of water.

Clenching your jaw, you took a deep breath through your nose to bite back whatever rested on your mind, trying to tell yourself he was only acting this way because he was drunk.

“Nothing.”

With high shoulders, both caused by the cold and the uncomfortable tension, you turned and headed over to your car and opening the passenger door to hold it open for him. But when you turned to look up, Osamu was stood in the exact same position, sporting the same grumpy expression.

Your head fell back with another loud groan. “Osamu, I’m not doing this with you tonight, just get in the car.”

“I don’t feel like going with you,” stuffing his hands in his jean pockets as his shoulders raised, trying to conceal how the cold was starting to make his body tremble.

“Too damn bad, now get in the car,” you said sternly as you contested his mean stare.

You wondered what the hell could have happened for you to earn this treatment from him. Yesterday everything seemed fine, hanging out the whole group where everything had been so pleasant — perfect even, if you dared be that honest.

The unspoken thing between you had continued to grow stronger, slowly but surely breaking out from the restraints of ‘just friends’. Your gazes lingered longer than what would be considered normal. More often than not, your arm would shyly be pressed against his the entire time you were hanging out — yesterday was no different.

And when it was time for you to take your leave, his arms had wrapped around your shoulders in a comforting hug that had resulted in your head resting on his chest. Your feelings had gotten the best of you, and you had let your eyes slowly glide shut and bask in his embrace for a moment longer than you knew you should have — then you didn’t hear anything from him until Atsumu had called and begged you to come pick him up.

“Please come and get him. He’s really drunk and should be in bed,” Atsumu’s voice was laced with concern before it twisted into irritation. “He’s also just in a fucking pissy mood.”

It hadn’t been a question whether you should do it or not — you would always be there for Osamu.

You just hadn’t expected to be met with such hostility from the person you were walking such a fine line with, especially when it came so out of the blue.

“Atsumu really wasn’t kidding when he said you were pissy,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Funny how you two keep talking about me,” he said, kicking an illusionary rock making him appear even more like a bratty child.

“Yeah, told me your own team don’t even want you at the party no more because you’re a buzzkill.”

An aggressive scoff shot past his teeth. “Some friend you are, talking crap behind my back with my own brother.”

“Sure, whatever, you can tell me how bad of a friend I am on the way home. I won’t say it again, get. In. The. Car.”

There was a betrayal on his expression, a flinch in his frown, telling you your crass tone was having a bigger impact on him than he was letting on.

Though he hesitated, his feet eventually carried him unsteadily towards you. Without sparing you a single glance, he crouched in front of you to enter the car. And just as all four of his limbs were inside the vehicle, your anger had you slam the door with a lot more power than intended before scurrying into the driver seat.

“Put your seatbelt on,” you demanded, watching as his body had let go of the shivering as the heat inside the car enveloped him — but there was no change in his mood.

The car ride back to his apartment was spent with zero words exchanged. The only thing heard was the gushing sound of the heat you were blazing throughout the car, and the low tunes of your calm music, which was actually doing wonders for you to steady your emotions a little.

You pulled into his driveway, silence swallowing the car as you shut off the engine. You turned to look at him, bracing yourself to meet a stubborn child you probably had to fight in order to get out of the car — instead, he was half asleep, eyelids heavy as sleep was looming right around the corner. A deep sigh slipped out of you at the peaceful sight of your best friend.

Slowly you reached out, placing your hand on his shoulder to carefully shake him awake, “Osamu, we’re here,” you whispered, only for all your irritation to return in an instant as he jerked out of your gentle touch, frown creasing his features again.

He responded with a low “hmpf,” before unbuckling his belt and exiting the car, yet again never having the decency to look at you.

He’s drunk, he’s drunk, he’s drunk, you tried to tell yourself in order for you to be able to treat him with some grace. Alcohol could be the devil, turning the most gentle of people into pests — as seen right before your eyes. What kind of friend would you be if you couldn’t show him some mercy by excusing one bad night.

“Careful,” you sighed, rushing over to him to firmly place your hands on each side of his waist as he was about to tip over, “I got you.”

“I don’t need you to have me,” he nearly growled as he reached in his pocket for his keys — but he never jerked out of your grip, letting your hands remain at his side as substitute.

“Here, let me,” you tried to interject when he fumbled with unlocking the door for a second longer than your patience could endure. Of course he was unable to willingly hand you the keys, but at least he didn’t put up much of a fight when you twisted it out of his long fingers.

With one hand still resting on the small of his back, you unlocked the door. With gentle pressure, you ushered him forwards, desperate to get the nuisance that was your best friend to bed.

“You can go home now,” he slurred the second he set foot inside his apartment.

“Not leaving just yet,” you whispered, remaining close behind him, guiding him to his bedroom.

He grunted and grumbled disapprovingly, and you might even have heard a suppressed ‘so annoying’ under his breath. You bit your tongue again, just hoping he would pass out once he was safely in bed — maybe come tomorrow, he could even give you an apology.

“Now you can leave,” finally stumbling out of your light grip, spinning around to serve you yet another one of his frowns.

“I’ll get you some water first-“

“No. I want you to leave.”

“Let me take care of you first, okay?”

“No, please just go home.” There was a sadness in his voice now. And maybe it was the lighting playing tricks on you, but you swore you spotted a shine gloss over his eyes.

Your shoulders slumped, unable to give your anger room to grow when he was so evidently upset.

“Osamu,” you breathed, daring to take a step closer. “What’s going on?” Carefully you grabbed ahold of his arms and guided him to the edge of his bed. He wasn’t accepting your gestures entirely, scooting further away when you sat down beside him.

“Nothing. Just don’t want you here.”

“Did something happen tonight?”

“No, nothing happened so you can leave!” It seemed like he tried to find back to the bite that had been in his tone when you first picked him up, but the sudden shift in his mood had taken control of him instead.

You didn’t think twice about reaching out, placing a comforting hand on his back — only for him to shrug it off.

“Atsumu said you’d been-“

A visceral groan interrupted you. “It’s always Atsumu, isn’t it?” He turned to look at you, sad eyes locking with yours and now you could definitely spot the faint gloss of tears.

“What?” You breathed in confusion, eyebrows narrowing instinctively.

“All night!” He said, almost more to himself than to you.

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“All night, he was on his damn phone, and suddenly he has called you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, placing your hand in his back again to bring him comfort, but you wasn’t sure it was to any help. “Yes, so I could come pick you up.”

Another petty scoff, tainted with poorly hidden sorrow, escaped him. “Why don’t you just go? I’m sure he would love to hang out with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you spoke softly, eyes studying his profile as his gaze was locked on his lap.

“I told you to leave!”

“Osamu,” you said sternly, fingers gripping his chin to force his focus back on you. “I said I’m not going anywhere!”

His eyes kept betraying him — his lips carried a frown and that crease between his eyebrows appeared to have grown stuck on his forehead.

But his eyes just looked so sad, as if somehow there was a lot of pent up feelings that had suddenly decided to spring to the surface and trap him in a spiral.

“It’s me,” you whispered, attention flittering between his eyes, hoping the tenderness you conveyed would convince him to reveal himself to you.

“That’s the problem.”

This was the first time you could remember being nervous around him, bordering on scared. You knew what you hoped he was getting at, but you were too afraid to let yourself be entertained by the pleasant fantasy.

It was so much safer to live in the naivety, thinking you were just more affectionate than other best friends. Entertaining a lovesick dream of being anything more was simply too risky, only seeing a scenario where you ended up hurt.

However, the look he gave you sprinkled just the tiniest bit of reality to your fantasy.

“Do you like him?” the innocent question tumbling out on accident, googly eyes staring at you before his shoulders bounced with a quiet hiccup.

“Like who?”

“You know who,” he whined, eyes pleading for you not to make him say it.

“Atsumu?” He nodded weakly, gulping down the nervous lump in his throat. “I mean, sure.”

“But do you like like him?” He caused heat to flush your face by his adolescent question.

“We’re just friends.”

“Are we just friends too?”

For some reason, his bold statement had the tension in your body evaporate, shoulders slumping before you moved your hand to cup his face, certain you heard the softest hum leave him as your hand caressed him.

“No, we’re not.”

And then he melted into your touch, finally letting his sweet smile paint his lips instead of that damn frown.

“You know we’re not,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered just as low, “but I needed to hear you say it.”

“But Osamu?” Your voice was soft as velvet, watching how his eyelids had become heavy again.

“Hm?”

“You’re still really drunk,” you chuckled weakly.

“Don’t worry,” he yawned, “I’ve liked you for years, so I’ll still remember tomorrow.”

You had no choice but take his word for it, hoping he would in fact remember the small confession exchange that had taken place. At least you had the ability to bask in some relief, feeling as if tons had been lifted from your shoulders.

With no sudden movements, your hand left his face before carefully getting on your feet. His breaths had slowly turned deeper and slower, a clear indication sleep were to consume him sooner rather than later, gracefully leading him to lay down on the bed.

You pulled his covers over him, smiling to yourself at the peaceful sight and thankful the night had managed to take a turn for the better.

Just as you were about to head out of his bedroom, his soft voice spoke your name.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Osamu. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And right before you closed the door, you saw the sweetest smile stretch across his face once again.

an : also wanna thank the lovely lale for putting this whole thing together, and introducing me to this amazing group of people <3 comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[kiemiu]

things matt does that makes you question your friendship | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. unestablished relationship headcanons wc 911 (library) + (request)

bestfriend!matt who finds excuses to talk to you. he'll randomly call you in the middle of the night to ask for help with something he already knows how to do just because he missed the sound of your voice. other times he'll randomly bring up a controversial topic that he knows you feel strongly about just to hear you rant and rave about it for hours on end. if you ever feel the need to apologize for talking too much, matt always shuts it down with his own heartfelt confession. "no, don't apologize. i love the sound of your voice."

bestfriend!matt who jumps at any offer to help you. you need a ride somewhere? don't worry matt will take you, he had a few errands to run anyway. you need help carrying groceries inside? no? well, that's okay, matt will help you anyway. day or night, at any place in the world, you can always depend on matt being there to help you even when you don't need it. he'd honestly prefer if you went to him for help, finding something so intimate about how intently you pay attention to him when he's explaining something to you, especially if he gets to do it hands on and guide you through it. nick and chris complain about it pretty often, always mentioning the 'pretty girl privileges' you obtain when it comes to matt.

bestfriend!matt who sends you not-so-discrete tik toks. tik toks that always have an underlying meaning, always entailing romance in one way or another. slideshows vids with a caption that says 'us' with pictures of puppies cuddling or rubbing their noses together, or vids with your initials paired together claiming you're soulmates in every universe. the range of subtleness is nearly nonexistent. the most subtle of the bunch being short vids of places that look romantic such as cafes or light shows that are in your area that he sends, hoping that you'll want to go with him. he thoroughly enjoys whenever you reciprocate his energy and send back alike tik toks, staying up till 4 in the morning smiling at his phone at the flurry of tik toks the two of you exchanged in the dead of night for hours on end.

bestfriend!matt who over analyzes everything. he rethinks every conversation you've had together whenever he gets the quiet time to do so. always overthinking if you were subtly flirting back with him or dropping hints that you didn't like him like he liked you. every now and then when he's on social media, he'll scroll through your most recent insta or tik tok posts. rereading the caption of your insta post and judging the song choice for your tik tok, wondering if either of them have hidden meanings that relate to him in any way like what he does for you. thinking back to the time you mentioned you liked how he looks in a beanie and his next three insta posts he uploading were him adorned in a beanie. or how you mentioned that you couldn't get a song stuck out of your head, so his next monthly tik tok he uploaded he used that song, singing it word for word.

bestfriend!matt who mimics you. he doesn't do it to mock you, it's just the slightest quirks you do that he's taken notice of and are things he unconsciously picked up and now does out of habit. sometimes scrunching his nose up the way you do when you laugh, rolling his eyes when he hears a corny joke, hiding his smile behind his hands, and even picking up some of your lingo. his brothers tease and call him out for it all the time. "matt since when have you started using the word period?" "since now, what about it." "what a catty bitch, he's been hanging around y/n too much.."

bestfriend!matt who can't help but get jealous when someone takes a special interest in you. he know he has no right to get jealous over the new male friends you make, he himself is only a friend to you and nothing more, yet he can't ignore the undeniable rage he feels course through his veins at the sight of another man looking at you the way he does. if he isn't ignoring your friend his responses are short and bitter, showing he has no interest in conversation, overall becoming extremely passive aggressive to your friend to the point the interaction is unbearably awkward, only stopping when he's able to get you alone again.

bestfriend!matt who seeks you out. in every casual setting or event with friends, matt is always looking for you, craving your presence at every waking second. he isn't the type to outwardly ask for your attention, he'll just subtly tug at your sleeves when you're not paying attention and show you a tik tok he found funny, repeating the habit until you're leaned on his shoulder and just scrolling through the app together. there'll be times when he discreetly interlocks his fingers between yours, away from everyone's wandering eyes. he claims that it helps ground him when he starts to feel anxious at big gatherings, but your willingness to hold his hand gives him enough confidence to do it when it's just the two of you alone in his room.

bestfriend!matt who has fallen for the person he never knew he was meant to love.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🌱: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrissweetheart @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @dominicfikeenthusiast @sturnslutz @le4hsblog

[elinty]

Beyond The Finish Line | CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

summary: A heartfelt moment helps Charles find comfort and self-worth beyond failure.

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

I found him in the quiet paddock. Too silent. It’s completely still, like if it's keeping its air.

Charles remained in the Ferrari garage, leaned on a folding chair with his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. I paused at the doorway, observing him for a while. He appeared so small, in contrast to the confident man who drove the car.

I hated seeing him like this.

“Charles?” I whispered.

He didn't raise his head. "Go home," he said, entering nevertheless and shutting the door. "No chance. Do you think I'll let you spend the entire night sitting alone?

No reply. My heart hurt even more when he remained quiet.

"Charles," I said once more, harder this time, and moved across the room to face him. "Speak to me."

When he did look up, his emerald eyes had become worn and red-rimmed. "What is there to discuss?"

"You tell me."

With a sigh, he leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. "I failed everyone. The team. The supporters. Myself. Once more.

When he finished speaking, his voice broke, and it took everything in me not to pull him into my arms right then and there.

I said, sitting in front of him so he couldn't avoid my eyes, "You didn't let anyone down." "Charles, you put your all out there. All anyone can ask is that.

"It's not enough," he replied angrily. "It never is."

"It's for me."

At that, he froze. His eyes slowly came into contact with mine, and I could see his confusion and doubt there. His voice was raw and gentle as he said, "Why?" "When I keep failing, why do you still believe in me?"

My heart began to crumble even more. Before I could question my words, I blurted out, "Because I know who you are." Charles, you're more than just a driver to me. You're a tough person who plays this sport. You're a good person who truly cares about others. That's the reason.

He simply looked at me for a moment, as though he was unsure whether or not he could trust me. Then he let out an anxious breath and combed his hair.

"To me, you're too good," he whispered.

"You make it easy," I replied, smiling a little.

It was like light seeping through the clouds as an eerie image of a smile grasped at his lips.

I stood up and extended my hand, saying, "Come on." "Let's leave this place."

He hesitated and asked, "Where?" "Anywhere but here."

He told me he used to go to this view outside the city when he was younger. In the distance, the car's lights sparkled, yet everything seemed darker here. less noisy.

With his arms folded, Charles gazed out at the scenery while leaning against the hood of my car. After some time, he said, "I used to come here whenever I needed to think."

"What were your thoughts?" As I stood next to him, I asked.

"Me winning. proving myself. bringing honour to my father. The softening of his voice as he spoke about his father made my heart hurt.

"And now?" I lightly pushed. "Now." He walked off staring at the horizon. "Now, I question whether it was all worth it."

My chest tightened as I turned to face him. "Stop saying that."

"It's true," he said quietly. Something always happens just when I believe I'm getting closer. A mistake, a collision, fate... I feel like I'm pursuing a goal that is impossible.

I put my hand on his arm and moved ahead of him. "Listen to me, Charles. You are more than all that you accomplish. More than the victories or losses. You have no one to prove anything to. Not to yourself, not to the team, and not to the supporters.

For some time, the pain in his eyes was nearly unbearable as he gave me a serious look.

"You think that's true?" he said quietly.

"With all my heart," I said in a firm voice.

I could sense the change in the atmosphere between us—the hidden bond that had always existed but was simply waiting for the proper time.

With a slight smile on his lips, he continued, "You know, I don't think I've ever thanked you for putting up with me."

In an attempt to lighten the situation, I mocked, "You haven't." However, I thought it was stated.

His laughter was warm and sincere. Thank you for everything."I answered, scarcely raising my voice above a whisper, "Charles, you don't have to thank me." "I want to be here, so I am."

For a minute, it seemed as though the world disappeared and there were only the two of us as his face softened. He gently put his hand against mine and linked his fingers with mine.

“He said, his voice a little shaky, "I don't know where I'd be without you."

I squeezed his hand and whispered, "You don't have to." "I won't be leaving."

Then he giggled, a genuine smile that extended to his eyes. And that night, for the first time, I caught a glimpse of the Charles I knew—the one who never gave up.

I came to a conclusion as we stood hand in hand. He might never have the same level of self-confidence that I did. However, I would remind him whenever I could while I was here.

Because he had already won in my eyes.

A/N: guys this is lowkey bad but hope you enjoyed this!! anyways im working on the Charles Leclerc series and i think you guys are gonna like it!!!

[bluelotuswrites]

2024 fic rec list :)

So here's a list of fics/authors that I read in 2024! A lot of them are Batman-related, and Jason-centered :P

Six Degrees of Separation by @oliocelottafanfics. It's a Criminal Minds crossover with Batman, where Penelope Garcia is the one to find Jason after his resurrection and adopts him. This is one of those fics where I didn't know I needed it until I saw it, and now it's stuck in my brain.

The Right Substitution is Key by Addicted Apple. A fun what-if story where Batman and Nightwing go missing, so Robin recruits Red Hood to fill in as Batman while completely oblivious to the fact that Red Hood is Jason Todd.

Five Reactions to Pepper's New PA by gladdecease. Short, but Bucky ends up becoming Pepper Potts' personal assistant. It's very funny and wholesome.

@cdelphiki's Three Terrors Cinematic Universe is a top fic that many probably already know. Talia tried to escape the League with Jason, Damian, Anathasia, and Mara al Ghul. She didn't make it, leaving Jason to be the one to protect them.

Along with that is cdelphiki's The Time Before. Jason got sent back to the past by Black Mask, who wanted to kill him before he became Red Hood. Jason goes to Bruce for help and ends up healing and learning more about Bruce.

A League of Her Own by @comebackolivia. Immediately after the UtRH, Talia finds Jason in the rubble, kills to Joker, and takes him back to the League, where they try to take over and rebuild it with Nyssa. Jason becomes one of her generals. You might recognize them for their work on Not-So-Outlaw :)

VermillionFlame is another more recent author that has been working on Arkhamverse Jason. For Want of a Savior and Hold Fast (Don't Let Go) are two of my favorites.

For Want of a Savior has comic Jason wind up in Arkhamverse, and saves AK!Jason. He then helps him heal and the Batfam is in a panic after realizing Jason may be alive.

Hold Fast (Don't Let Go) is another AU where Jason shot Deathstroke while working on his revenge plan that would be seen in Arkham Knight. He then shows up at Wayne Manor for protection, throwing the family's peace into chaos as so many things come to light and people butt heads.

Echoes of Future Past by orangesky37 on AO3/ @kindlingkeen. Immediately after Jason's throat got slit in UtRH comic, he gets yeeted back to the past and is found by authorities. James Gordon brings Batman onto the case, not realizing Batman is Bruce Wayne. He gets protective of Jason when he tells Gordon that 'his dad did it.'

Going Down Like the Titanic by @sunnylighter A shortish Arkhamverse AU where Joker succeeds in getting Bruce to succumb to the Titan virus by showing Jason still alive in Arkham Asylum.

Bruce Wayne Must Die by @reginalusus. Jason wants to kill Bruce, only to find out that he's missing. He teams up with Harvey Dent to find him, and there's father-son bonding vibes between Harvey and Jason.

Do Unto Others by @romiress. Arkhamverse again (listen, I'm a sucker for that storyline when it comes to Jason. It's maximum angst potential). Khalid Nassour (Doctor Fate in DC comics) worked at Arkham Asylum under the payroll of Joker, albeit reluctantly. He was brought on to fix up Jason, and eventually he sneaks him out to help him heal.

Don't Let Them See You Cry by @daisyapples. Oh my god, you guys. Let me tell you. This series is vibrates in my brain to an insane degree. Shortly after Bucky breaks free from his Winter Soldier programming, he finds Jason and adopts him. It's so good, y'all. I literally drop everything to read this whenever it updates.

The Glue by sleepynarwhal. Daredevil is the one to mentor Spiderman instead in the MCU and it's very adorable how much Matt goes from reluctant mentor to embracing it, as well introducing him to the other Defenders.

the road home by @drakefeathers. Jason is homesick during his Lost Days Era world murder-tour and ends up returning home.

I'll Catch a Break Someday by @victory-in-the-skye. Fullmetal Alchemist crosses over with the MCU. It has Fem!Ed, which might not be everyone's cup of tea, but it definitely contributes to the story in a way that makes it interesting. The author does a fantastic job of capturing Ed's voice, even in first person! It's a series, but it hasn't been updated in a while and I hope the author is doing okay!

Arkham Compendium by @lananiscorner. If you're a fan of Arkhamverse, I cannot recommend this series enough. Focusing on Jason before, during, and after Arkham Knight, the author does a fantastic job of delving into Jason's psyche during the course of his life. Ill Weeds Grow Apace is my favorite of the series, focusing on Jason healing after Arkham Knight, and slowly reconnecting with his siblings. Lanani also has many other fantastic fics in DC, especially with Jason. While the author might not be in the fandom anymore, I will always be grateful for the fics that were written because they are masterpieces.

(If you're one of these authors on the list and I missed your tumblr @, let me know and I'll edit them in!)

[wyye-en]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 sanctuary.

"not anyone, you're the one, more than fun, you're the sanctuary."

- sanctuary, joji

player 380 | se-mi x female reader

cont. fluff, light angst

SE-MI doesn't deserve you- she believes.

You were currently resting on the rented apartment of your girlfriend, lying down on the soft cushion of her couch, exchanging each other's warmth whilst holding each other in a tight embrace.

The cuddling position you were in allowed Se-mi to hear your steady breath on her neck, confirming that you're still in your deep sleep.

You look peaceful in your sleep, she thought to herself. Then, she noticed you leaning closer to her neck, making her pause, observing and waiting for your next action.

Your nose rubbed onto her skin, tickling her a little whilst you relax, enjoying her warmth. Her eyes softened at the sleeping face you had on. She pressed her face on your hair in return to your previous actions, smelling the fresh scent of your shampoo, unconsciously bringing her pure delight.

A soft sigh escapes from her lips, a single thought in her head.

How could you easily trust someone like her?

She hated how easily you trusted her despite knowing her in just a few months. But as much as Se-mi hated to admit it, knowing how much trust you put on her every time you let your guard down whenever she's around brings happiness to her to know you feel safe in her company.

Slowly, her hands reached out to one of yours, blindly tracing each part of your hands with her calloused fingers, rubbing the soft, unmarred skin of your palm, free from hard work- a complete contrast of the status the two of you are standing on in the society.

With a slight pinch on your soft hands, you slighted stirred in your sleep, making her cut her thoughts off and stop her actions for just a short second.

Then, she heard you whisper in your sleep, "Se-mi, I love you..."

F*ck, were you dreaming of her?

The words you whispered in your sleep was enough to cause her heart to beat much harder that it already was. She was worried that you'd hear how fast her heart beat and wake up sonner than she wanted you to. But you didn't— much to her surprise.

Se-mi couldn't fall asleep, not when you're on her side— she couldn't miss a single second of you. She was afraid that once she closes her eyes, she would wake up and realize everything was just a dream. But even so she knew it wasn't, she certain that you would leave her as soon as you realize how miserable your life would turn out to be if you stayed with her till the end— just like how your father warned you about her.

You father was against your relationship and almost everyone around you did. But she couldn't blame your father. If she was put in the same position, she would do the same thing for the sake of her daughter's future.

But you were born hardheaded, just like your mother. You stayed with her up until know, never failing to remind her everyday that you love her.

And it's not that she doesn't trust you— trust me, she does, but just not on the part that you'd love her till the end.

It's just that people change, and only time will tell. And if you ever do leave her, Se-mi doesn't know what she'd do to herself.

But for now, she wanted to continue basking herself in your presence until she gets sick and tired of it- which would never happen.

- fin -

©wyye-en 12/30|2024

[silent-stories]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah has trouble sleeping. Except when he's with you.

Tw: anxiety, insomnia, fluff

Noah had always struggled with sleeping. For as long as he could remember, a good night of sleep had been a distant dream, something just out of reach.

His head was always full of thoughts and his chest was heavy with an imaginary yet so real weight.

Nights were the hardest for him—his mind raced with thoughts, overanalyzing everything: the smallest doubts, the big uncertainties of life, songs he was working on but couldn't get perfect, the upcoming shows, and a problem with band merch he ordered but hadn't arrived yet.

His body would feel the tension, the weight of exhaustion, but his mind wouldn't cooperate. It was a never-ending cycle that left him frustrated, drained, and sometimes even a little hopeless.

But then, there was you. You had been by his side for years, through everything. You were there when Bad Omens was just a small band doing shows that had a maximum of one hundred people in the audience, and you were there when he sang on stage with Oli Sykes.

You were the one constant, the one person who seemed to understand him in a way no one else did, not even Nicholas and the rest of the band, sometimes. And, strangely, whenever you were around, sleep became easier to grasp.

It was subtle at first. He didn’t realize it right away, but whenever you were near him, whether sitting next to him on his bed after a long day, lying on the couch watching Tokyo Ghoul until late, or simply hanging out at your place and chatting during the night, he found himself drifting off faster than he ever could alone. It wasn't like any magic trick, or some profound change in his routine. It was you. You were the one who somehow made sleep feel less like a battle.

At first, Noah dismissed it, unsure of what was going on. He wondered if it was the way you were there—your presence somehow conforting him. Maybe it was the calming energy you exuded without even trying. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about you that eased him. He thought it might be the warmth of your body near his, your soft laugh in the silence of the night, the way your hand played with his fingers while watching a stupid movie.

There was something comforting about your closeness—how you made him feel safe enough to finally let go. Maybe it was the way you allowed him to rest his head on your stomach, feeling the soft rise and fall of your breath, the rhythmic beat of your heart. It became his anchor. With you nearby, he could finally relax. And, somehow, he found himself falling asleep much quicker than ever before.

Noah didn’t quite understand why it worked this way. You two had been friends for so long that it never crossed his mind to analyze the situation. But every time you spent the night at his house or he at yours, and he sank into deeper sleep beside you, he couldn't ignore the feeling that you were the key to his peace. He had been around people before, slept in bed with other people, and yet, it was only with you that sleep seemed attainable.

Part of him felt guilty—guilty for needing you in this way, guilty for relying on you when it was supposed to be something he could manage himself. But another part of him was grateful, so deeply thankful for your presence, for the comfort you unknowingly provided. It was as though, in a world that felt so overwhelming, you were the one thing that could bring him peace.

You loved the quiet evenings at your place, when the soft hum of some anime filled the room as you and Noah were sprawled on the bed, each of you nestled into your own little corner of the pillows.

"Dude! You didn't tell me Hide was still alive!"

"I would have ruined the surprise, look at your face now!"

You chuckled, shaking your head.

You were halfway through an episode, the light of the screen flickering across the dark room, when Noah's exhaustion slowly started to catch up with him and his gaze softened as he sank further into the comfort of your bed.

You glanced over at him, noticing how his eyelids seemed to be growing heavier with each passing minute. His usual chatter had quieted down, and now, the only sounds were the faint rustling of his clothes as he shifted, trying to get comfortable. He wasn't one to admit it, but you could tell he was tired. Really tired.

You knew he had trouble falling asleep, even though you had never seen him struggle with it when you were together, because he had mentioned it a couple of times, and you weren't about to wake him up to watch the last episode of the season.

You reached over, grabbing the blanket that was bunched up near your legs, and pulled it over the both of you, draping it loosely over his body too. It was a simple gesture, but one that you knew would make him feel more at ease. The bed was warm, and the space around him felt safe.

Noah’s hand, which had been resting beside him, moved slightly, searching for something. Your fingers brushed against his as he tried to find you in his half-conscious daze. Smiling softly, you let him take your hand, intertwining your fingers gently. He squeezed your hand once, his body finally settling, and that’s when you knew he was starting to drift.

The sounds from the show faded into the background as his breathing deepened, slower and more steady. He’d been fighting sleep for so long, but in your presence, surrounded by the quiet comfort of your room and the low murmur of the anime, it seemed like he couldn’t hold out anymore. The rise and fall of his chest began to slow, and before long, his head tilted slightly to the side, resting softly against your shoulder, his mouth slightly open.

You didn’t move. Instead, you let him be, the way he always let you be when you needed comfort.

His breathing was rhythmic now, soft and deep, the kind of sleep that only comes when someone feels completely safe. You glanced down at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You shifted slightly, adjusting the blankets and making sure he was comfortable, but Noah didn’t stir.

You also loved the nights at Noah’s place, when the band was off doing their own thing, leaving you and Noah alone in his room, as usual. The bed was slightly messy with clothes and gear scattered around, and the low hum of the TV created a soft background to your conversation.

You were lying on your stomach, flicking through your phone, while Noah stretched out beside you, his head resting on his arm as you chatted.

“I mean,” he continued, his voice playful, “when I was a kid, I used to tell people Jackie Chan was my dad.”

You blinked, trying to process what he just said. “Wait, what?”

Noah shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “Yeah, when I was like... maybe 13 or 14? I’d go around showing people a picture of Jackie Chan and say, ‘This is my dad.’”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Why would you do that?"

“I don't know,” he said, laughing at the memory. “I was convinced it would make me cool. I’d pull out the picture—one from a magazine or something—and tell everyone that he was my dad.”

You chuckled, still processing it. “Okay, but what did people say when they saw it? Like, did they believe you?”

Noah smirked, leaning back against his pillows. “Most of them were like, ‘Wait, is that Jackie Chan?’ And I’d just be like, ‘Nope, that’s my dad.’ Like, no hesitation. Just totally confident about it.”

You laughed so hard you almost fell off the bed. “Wait, hold up. You actually said that? You didn’t try to explain? Just, ‘Nope, that’s my dad? And he randomly looks exactly like Jackie Chan?'"

“Yep,” Noah said, chuckling. “I’d be like, ‘No, that’s not Jackie Chan, what are you talking about?, that’s my dad.’ I’d act all casual about it too."

“I'm sure they all believed you,” you said, barely able to contain your laughter.

"Hey! Don't make fun of me now."

You shook your head in disbelief, still grinning. "Oh I'm not! That's one of the coolest things I know about you!"

"Okay, shut up now."

As the laughter died down, there was a peaceful silence. You both relaxed into the bed, the soft glow of the lamp casting gentle shadows on the walls. Noah, his eyes heavy, turned his head toward you, his body shifting closer as he found a comfortable spot.

He seemed so at peace in moments like this, with his hair splayed around the pillow and a slight stubble on his face that made your skin tingle every time he left a kiss on your cheek.

Slowly, his breathing deepened, and you realized that the ridiculous story had done what it always did—made him relax. Little did you know that the sound of your voice, more specifically the sound of your soft laugh, had also played its part.

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “You know I’ll never let you live that Jackie Chan story down. Like, ever.”

He grinned, eyes still closed, mumbling, “I’m okay with that. Just cause it's you.”

And, with that, he drifted off to sleep, your laughter still hanging in the air.

And then, there are the nights you and Noah didn’t spend together.

It was a typical night, one where you and Noah had gone your separate ways after hanging out all evening. You were at your our place, cozy in bed still on your phone, scrolling through social media, even if it was starting to get late, while Noah was at his house with the band, sleeping, or so you thought.

The silence of the night had settled in when your phone buzzed. You looked at the screen, a message from Noah popping up:

Noah: Hey, are you awake?

You weren’t exactly sleepy yet, and something about the message made you pause for a second, wondering if something was off. You quickly typed back:

You: Yeah. What’s up?

The message came almost immediately after yours:

Noah: Can I call you?

You were a bit surprised, but you could tell something was off. You quickly tapped the phone to call him before he could send another text.

You waited for the line to pick up, the ringing echoing in your ear. A few seconds later, you heard Noah’s groggy voice.

"Hey," he said, his tone a little rough and tired, "I can't sleep."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you that he was okay, but something in his voice made you worry. “You’re not feeling sick or anything, are you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Noah muttered, but it sounded like he was trying to fight off exhaustion. “Just... can’t sleep. I’ve been lying here for hours.”

You frowned, sitting up a little in bed. “You scared me. I thought something happened.”

“No, nothing happened. Just... I can't fucking sleep."

You could hear the frustration in his voice, and it made your chest tighten.

There was a little pause and you could feel him slipping into his thoughts again. So, in an effort to pull his mind away from whatever it was that was keeping him awake, you decided to tell him something to distract him.

“So, when I got home tonight,” you started, leaning back against your pillows, “I found a cat in my backyard.”

Noah let out a soft grunt, clearly intrigued. “A cat? Was it your neighbors'?”

You chuckled a little at his curiosity. “Not exactly. It was a stray, I think. It didn’t let me get close at all. Kept running away from me whenever I tried.”

“Aww, poor thing,” Noah said, his voice already softening.

“Yeah, it looked pretty hungry,” you continued, trying to keep the conversation light. “So, I left it a can of tuna outside. I didn’t have anything else, but I figured it might help a little.”

"That's sweet."

“Well, yeah,” you said with a smile. “I couldn’t just leave it there. It seemed so skinny. I hope it eats it. Maybe it’ll stick around.”

“Do you think it’s gonna come back?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said, stretching out in bed, trying to keep your voice casual. “I mean, if it’s really hungry, it probably will. I’m hoping it doesn’t just go off somewhere else. It seemed like it really needed food. And love.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You could tell Noah was picturing the scene, likely imagining the little stray cat outside in the dark. After a moment, he spoke up again.

"I hope it’s okay.”

“I hope so too,” you said softly. “I’ll keep an eye on it and let you know if it comes back. I’ll be sure to keep feeding it if it does.”

Noah’s voice softened even more when he spoke again. “You’re good... You know that, right?”

"I just left it a tuna can, Noah."

"I'm not only talking about the cat. It's almost 2 a.m and you are here talking to me because I can't sleep. Not everyone would do that."

You smiled, feeling your heart warm. “I care about you, Noah. You know I do. And I care about cats too." You added the last part with a chuckle.

“I'm glad you do, really. Thank you. I don’t say it enough.” Noah said with a yawn. “I hope the kitten will be still there tomorrow.”

“I’ll let you know if I see it again,” you said. “And I’ll be sure to give the backyard buddy more food if it comes back."

You could hear him chuckling softly, but then his voice started to quiet down again. He was fading, his breath becoming slower, deeper.

"Alright," he mumbled.

There was another long pause, and then, you heard it—Noah’s breathing had slowed, becoming even and rhythmic. You weren’t sure if he’d heard you, but then you heard a soft snore.

You smiled softly, happy to know he was finally getting some rest, but you stayed on the line for a few more minutes, making sure everything was okay. You could hear the calm rise and fall of his breath, the sound of him finally finding peace.

Your heart swelled with a mix of affection and understanding. Sometimes, you didn’t need to say much. Just being there to talk about random things in the middle of the night was enough.

Slowly, you pulled the phone away from your ear, a quiet smile on your face. As you hung up, you whispered to the empty room, “Goodnight, Noah.”

And with that, you settled back into your own bed feeling comforted knowing you could help him a bit when he needed you.

And then, there was the night he realized that how he felt about you wasn't exactly how he should feel about a best friend.

It had been hours. Hours of tossing and turning in bed, of staring at the ceiling, of the quiet sounds of the guys in their respective rooms. The restlessness, the heaviness in his chest seemed too much. He’d been trying to sleep since midnight, but now, the clock was nearing 3 AM, and it wasn’t getting any easier.

Noah sat up in his bed, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. His body felt exhausted, but his mind? It was still awake, thinking too much, filled with thoughts he couldn’t push away. The only thing that ever helped was hearing your voice.

He grabbed his phone, almost instinctively, and typed out a text to you.

Noah: I'm gonna be a pain in the ass again

Noah: are you still up by any chance?

A few moments later, your reply popped up.

You: Yep

Relief washed over him as he read your message. He stared at his phone for a moment before typing out his next question.

Noah: Can I call you?

The wait felt endless, though it was only a few seconds. Then, the response came:

You: Gimme ten minutes.

Ten minutes. Noah frowned, puzzled. What could that mean? Ten minutes? Was it a code? Did you have something going on? Maybe you were busy. But at three in the morning?

Maybe you were with someone else. The thought hit him like a wave—was there someone else? A guy? A guy in your bed that wasn’t him? His chest tightened as the idea planted itself firmly in his mind. He tried to push it away, but the more he thought about it, the worse it seemed.

No. That couldn’t be right. You were his best friend. If you had a boyfriend or someone, it wasn't a problem.

Right?

The thought of you with someone else gnawed at him, eating away at his insides. Maybe he had no reason to feel this way. After all, you were just friends. But as the minutes passed and his overthinking spiraled out of control, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this about you.

His mind was racing, heart pounding. Why was he feeling this way? It was just you, right? But then, the moment that snapped him out of his thoughts came when he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.

Noah blinked, confused. Was someone leaving the house?

He pushed himself up from his bed, trying to shake off the strange sense of unease that had gripped him. He stepped into the hallway, peering down the stairs. The door clicked shut behind you.

There, standing at the bottom of the stairs in the dim light of the hallway, was you. You were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie—his hoodie, the Bad Omens one he had given you a while ago. It was a small thing, but seeing you in it, with your hair tied up and your face still soft from sleep (showing that when Noah texted you you were actually sleeping), made Noah’s heart skip a beat. There was no guy. No one else. It was just you. There. For him. Because he couldn’t sleep.

You gave him a little smile. "Hey."

Noah couldn’t speak at first. He just stood there, watching you approach. All the anxiety and overthinking he'd been battling melted away when you took his hand gently in yours, your fingers cool from the night air.

"Hey."

It was a simple gesture, but it was exactly what he needed. You didn’t say anything else; you didn’t need to. The way you held his hand, the way you guided him back to his room, was enough.

He followed you back to his room in silence. As soon as you entered, you led him to his bed. The room felt warm now, the kind of warmth that only comes from someone being exactly where they were needed. You motioned for him to lie down, and without a word, he did.

You climbed into bed beside him, gently placing his head on your stomach. The soft fabric of your hoodie brushed against his cheek, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of your breath beneath him.

You reached out, running your fingers through his hair, the comforting rhythm of your touch calming him, making his mind slow down. Your fingers scratched lightly at his scalp, and for the first time that night, Noah felt the tension leave his body.

He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to rest. Everything felt right, like he was exactly where he needed to be. He’d never felt so cared for in his life. You hadn’t said much, but your presence spoke louder than any words ever could.

"Why did you come?" he whispered after a few moments, his voice barely audible. His heart was racing for a different reason now—because, in that moment, he realized just how much you meant to him. More than just a close friend. How much you always had, and how he was afraid of losing you.

You smiled softly, your fingers still weaving through his hair. "Because you needed me." you whispered.

For the first time in hours, Noah felt really at peace. You had helped him in a way no one else could, just by being there, by taking care of him, by simply holding him.

It was the most tender thing anyone had ever done for him. And as he drifted off, he realized just how important you were in his life, more than a best friend, more than he had ever allowed himself to believe.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

[hotteokyu]

who are you, who am I

Synopsis ~ No words. No sight. No thoughts. You grew here in this cell, alone. You realize there’s a person on the other side of the cell wall when you hear his cries. You can’t speak. You can’t see. You can’t touch. But he becomes your closest friend. Closer than the silence of the cell. Until that silence is disturbed. And you need more than his soft voice. You need to escape. You need him.

Pairing ~ prisoner!yunho x prisoner!reader

Word count ~ 13.8k

Genre / warnings ~ explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, romance, prisoners, cells, handcuffed, muzzle, blindfolded, mention of forced pregnancy, cult-like implications, stripped for an audience, non-consensual touching at times, a bit disturbing, kind of a roller coaster, murder, blood, cursing, forbidden love, fight for love, yunho's an idol, yunho not referred to by name for most of it, petnames: puppy / princess / baby / etc., desperate touching, desperate love, masturbation, shower sex, oral sex (male recieving), kissing, grinding, rough sex, crying, comfort

a/n ~ tell me what you think ;p

     There’s a person on the other side of the wall. 

     Tied up with thick cuffs, a tight muzzle around your mouth, dark cloth over your eyes. You see the wall with your hands as you roam your cell when master goes away. 

     The lonely, timeless days and nights are all the same, except now you have a friend. 

     He’s silly. When he wants to say hello, he taps the wall in a cute way, tap tip-tip tap tap. 

     He enjoys your company too, becoming comfortably silent as you hum him a song. Your lips can’t move because of the muzzle, so all you’ve ever confessed to him are your songs. 

     He sings for you too, and you love his voice. It’s low, and, if you press close enough to the wall, you can feel its vibrations. 

     You call him puppy in your head because whenever you want to play with him, you hear him eagerly scrambling to get to the wall, just like a little puppy. 

     You wonder what your puppy looks like. You wonder why master keeps him. You wonder if he wonders the same things about you. 

     But today is exciting. Today is a shower day. You’re not sure how often master lets you shower, but you haven’t gone out since you first noticed your new friend. You can hardly sleep, you’re so excited. 

     This could be your chance to see him. 

       The guard comes just as the black of your blindfold starts turning to a dark gray. He guides you with a padded arm out of your cell. You know the exact placement of every crevice in the cell relative to you. You stub your foot into the side of the entrance as he guides you out. You fall to the ground with a harsh slam. The concrete isn’t kind to your skin, and you feel your blood trickle onto the ground nicely. 

     The guard curses and grabs your scraped arm, pulling you to stand. He’s impatient, the tight schedule of the dungeon pulling his mind toward careless rushing. 

     He guides you again, whispering to himself in annoyance, and you stumble over his foot, almost crashing to the ground again. 

     “Fuck!” he growls. “Why do you need this stupid fucking blindfold anyway?!” He’s whispering but screaming in frustration, spitting into the air as his hand yanks the blindfold from your eyes. 

     And suddenly the light is blinding you for the first time in forever. 

     “Don’t tell anyone, bitch,” the guard spits, and you nod, blinking rapidly as he urges you to move again. 

     You go right, eyeing the next cell. Its glass is squeaky clean. He’s new, just like you thought. As you walk, slowly, stumbling in pain, you look closely into the cell, and, finally, you see him there. 

     Your puppy. 

     He’s big, hands tied up on his bed and black prisoner rags baggy on his figure. His muzzle matches yours, by what you’ve gathered from feeling it, desperately scratching to get it off. His head lays sleepily and sadly on the mattress, and his hair is a dark brown, nearly black, wavy as it falls into his eyes. And his eyes… aren’t covered like yours should be. They’re wide, and beautiful, and gazing right at you. Your puppy nearly jumps from his bed, his pupils trembling, but you slowly shake your head, and he freezes. 

     You love your puppy even more now, innocent and adorable as he begs you with his eyes to stay in his view. But the only thing you can give him is a squint of your eyes to show your attempt at a soft smile. 

     And then you turn the corner, and he’s gone. 

     You shut your eyes tight, facing straight forward as the guard guides you, though you know the route by heart. When you stop, it’s not at the showers, and when the guard suddenly hits the floor, you know he’s dead. 

     “My, look at you.” Master’s voice is chilling, but you’ve grown numb to it over time. He likes to talk, for you can do nothing but listen. “My favorite girl knows how to act,” he praises. The blindfold, lying uselessly around your neck, is yanked back over your eyes. “She knows that if she opens her eyes, she’ll be killed.” He pats your shoulder, stroking it lightly with his thumb, and you press your lips together tightly, the uncomfortable damp warmth of his skin making a quick gag approaching their seal. You feel his breath beside your ear, a thick string of drool between his teeth as he stretches his lips with his words. “I might have to reward her.”

       The shower never felt so rewarding as it does after having that creature lay his hand on you. You can hear his slime slick from his skin to the floor as he moves. As the cold water spills over your shoulders, you sigh, feeling it all melt away as if it’s steaming. 

     The water slides down your bare body, one you’ve never seen, its form unfamiliar to you, as you haven’t known yourself since being a little girl. You feel the metal of the belt around your hips. You don’t know why they cover your genitals with this belt, but it makes cleaning very difficult. 

     But now, alone where no one but the stream can see you, you could grin if not for the muzzle restricting your lips. Your mind keeps straying to his face, one you’ve, since you first heard his gentle cry from the other side of that wall, dreamed of seeing. You were able to witness for a split second. And you’re addicted.

As soon as you’re put back in your cage and the clacks of the guard’s shoes leave the hallway, your puppy scrambles to the wall. He hums softly but eagerly, quietly so that no one knows, but loud enough for you to know it's desperate. He whines softly until you hum back. You can imagine him now, head resting against the wall, hair dragging softly along its surface as he stares into the concrete as if he might see you. He wants to see you again, you can feel it in the whimpers as he scrapes against the wall. You want to see him again, too. But that desire can’t overtake you. You’ve lived here, grown here in this dungeon. You know patience is the only way you can even have the privilege of thinking about getting what you want. 

     For now, you close your eyes and think of your beautiful puppy’s face. You drift to sleep like that, listening to his soft, even breaths. 

     When you awake, the blindfold is pitch black. The dungeon is silent except for your puppy’s breath. It isn’t even or calm. He must be having a bad dream. He’s panting, soft, muffled whimpers reaching your ears. You sit up, your brows furrowing. Something isn’t right. There’s a new sound, one you’ve never heard before, from his side of the wall. Something slow and wet rubbing together. Could it be that the poor puppy was so scared in his sleep that he had an accident?

     “Mm?” you call out softly, and he gasps. The noise stops instantly, and he goes silent. You hum again, quietly, with pure concern, and he whimpers, almost guiltily. 

     No, it’s okay, puppy, you’re not in trouble. 

     But then the sound continues, and he lets out a shaky breath. You smell something sweet in the air, something warm and new. Your eyes grow wide as it all clicks suddenly. Looking down at your hands tied in front of you, your mind wanders quickly to what he might be doing just a few inches away from you. He’s panting now, his breaths vocal and soft and desperate. He’s trying to hold his voice back, his nose working hard but failing to breathe. You hear him squirm against the concrete, and you can imagine it vividly, having seen him with your own eyes. And he’s beautiful, pleasuring himself. His voice, higher than its usual low, soothing tone, needy and shameless. His body, thin yet large, clinging to the wall as he bends his tied arms uncomfortably just to make himself feel good. It’s wet. It’s so wet. He’s leaking all over himself, his precum lubing himself as he goes faster and faster. 

     Puppy has never acted like this before. Why is he suddenly so desperate? And why is just hearing him like this making you so dazed?

     His breath grows heavier, his movements desperate, his rhythm lost until it suddenly stops, and his voice disappears, the wet slide of his hand going slow until it stops completely, and he’s able to catch his breath. 

     You sigh, leaning your head against the wall. He had all that fun without you and expects you to be patient with your plan? How are you not supposed to rush to see him?

     You sleep on your bed for the rest of the night. He deserves to sleep alone after making everything so much more difficult for you. You could scream into your pillow. You need more than just hums and songs through the wall. You need to be with him. 

       Master comes to visit you more often these days. He never comes inside, and you’re grateful. He just talks to you, tells you about his problems. It’s good that he’s warming up to you, that you’re his favorite. You want something from him. 

     On the seventh time he comes to visit, you come up close to the glass and put your hand against it.

     “What is it, girl?” he asks, coming closer. You can hear his breath near your face, but you force yourself to stay there. You slowly reach with your hands and grasp your muzzle, tilting your head with furrowed, pleading brows. Then, you touch the glass again, right where his breath sounds. He hums. “Now, what could my little girl possibly need her mouth for?” But, of course, you can’t tell him. You sit there, pleading with your grip on the glass, until he sighs. “I suppose she could keep me company.” 

     That night, when the blindfold starts to grow darker, the muzzle is unlatched from your jaw. Your face aches and trembles as you stretch your lips for the first time in years. It hurts, but it’s so amazing, finally having your jaw free. Finally, you can start your escape. 

     Master doesn’t come back for a while. He said he will be busy, but you should reteach yourself to speak properly for when he returns. You will. You’ll talk all night long, all day, all week, forever to your wall. For your master, of course. 

     Puppy knocks quietly on the wall, and you’re the one who scrambles to meet him there in excitement. He’ll be so happy. He’ll want to escape with you. He’ll help you, and you can get out of here. And you’ll be together.

     Your breath trembles as you gaze at the black of the cloth, sitting on the cold floor in your tightly bound clothing, staring toward the wall. He’s silent. He must have heard everything. He listens well when you have visitors. He must know that he’ll finally be able to hear you speak to him. 

     “I…” Your voice is soft, only for his ears. “I’m Y/n.” He hums happily. Maybe he likes your name. “Do you know… you’re so pretty?” you ask, knowing he can’t answer. He’s quiet, and you can imagine the soft blush on his cheeks. “I’ve been alone for years. You’re my only friend. All I want is to see you again. You’re so pretty…” You lean your head against the wall, wishing it wasn’t there more than ever. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

     “Mhm!” he immediately responds, and you can’t stop the wide smile that you can finally make without close restrictions.

     “Is that why you were so worked up? The time you saw me?” He goes quiet, even his little excited breaths disappearing for a moment. 

     “Mhm…” He’s quiet, embarrassed. 

     Your face starts to heat up, as if you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “It’s not fair,” you whisper, “that you get to touch yourself when I can’t.” He huffs, a soft laugh echoing throughout the cells. “Is that funny?” you scoff, but he just continues his gentle laugh until you can’t help but smile too, tilting your head in disbelief.

     You lay and talk to him for hours. Or forever. You can’t keep track of time, but the cloth grows grey, and you’re still talking. He’s so engaging, in all ways that he can be. You tell him stories of your life before coming here and even funny things you’ve encountered in the cell. You ask him how the world has changed, and he’s mostly responded no to your guesses. 

     “But who are you,” you sigh, laying on your back, staring at the ceiling through the thick mask over your eyes. “What’s your name? I want to know so bad.” He sighs. “How old are you? Why are you here? What was your life like?” But he can’t answer. “For now, you’ll just be my friend.”

       “My girl, your voice is as pretty as ever. You’re almost fully developed, I can see. Soon, we’ll put you on display for the elders.” Master takes your hands in his, clasping them harshly, and you fight the urge to pull away. “Since the elders would love you even more with those lips of yours bound up, I’ll let you have them out until they see you.” You force a soft smile. 

     “Thank you,” you whisper, “Master.”

     “Oh, that sounds nice,” he coos. “Is that what you call me in that tiny head of yours?” You nod. “How obedient.”

     “I want to be good for you.” 

     He sighs with a soft chuckle. “I knew you were special since you were just a little girl. Now, look at you.”

     Fuck, you’re going to throw up. No, no, hold it in.

     “Thank you for looking after me, Master,” you say, keeping the smile plastered on your lips.

     He sighs before moving away from you. “Prepare her carefully over the next few days. Make her perfect. By Sunday, I want her in the tank.”

     Your eyes grow wide in both horror and relief. This is it. 

     “Thank you, Master,” You say, and his hand taps your cheek.

     “Enjoy your voice, girl. It’ll be gone again soon.”

      “Puppy, don’t be scared,” you whisper through the wall. He’s breathing heavily, soft, suppressed sobs escaping his lips. “Shhh… It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you no matter what.”

     “Mhm,” he whimpers. “Mhm. Mhm…” His voice is breaking. He’s crying, and yet you can’t reach out and wipe the tears from his cheeks. Your fists clench, bound together uselessly. 

     “I won’t go anywhere without you,” you whisper.

     The footsteps echoing through the hall don’t belong to a guard or master. It’s someone new.

     “I’ll come back for you no matter what.”

     “L/n. Please come with me.” It’s a lady. She has a soft voice, but she raises it knowingly to something commanding yet comforting. She won’t hurt you. She’s simply following orders. No malice. No evil. You get up, staring at the wall as if you could see it or your puppy sitting with wide, tear filled eyes, desperately trying to be silent. 

     You follow her. No need for a guide. When she sits you down in a cushioned chair, she slowly removes the blindfold from your eyes. The room is dimly lit, as they understand you haven’t used your eyes in years. You keep them closed. 

     “Open your eyes,” she says, and you do. “Look straight ahead. Do not let them stray.” You do. 

     In front of you is a TV. You saw them in your home when you were younger before the day you were sold away. It’s a small box, showcasing an auditorium. You’ve only ever seen one of those once when you went to a theater with your mother. The audience on the TV is filled with old people, both men and women. They’re watching the stage, but you can’t see what exactly it is. The camera is on the stage, it seems. 

     “Have you seen their faces before?” the lady asks, and you stare harder at the screen. Glancing from face to face, you come to realize, you know only one. You nod. “Which one?”

     “Right side. Third row. Seven seats in.”

     She writes it down. 

     “Any others?”

     “No.”

     “And who is that lady then? Whom you recognize?” 

     She’s old, but, of course, anyone would recognize her if they were you. You dreamed about her face every night or whenever sleep would grace you. You dreamed about what you would do to her if you ever saw her again. Old, wrinkly, and ugly, but surely her…

     “My mother.”

     She writes it down. 

     “How many years have passed,” you ask curiously. You can’t take your eyes off of her. Senses unbound completely, your expression contorts into something small and furious, “since the day I came here.”

     “Don’t scrunch your face,” she says, and you stop. “We’ve worked hard preserving your features. Don’t ruin it, or he’ll kill you for being useless.”

     Your brow twitches at the new information. Preserving your features? That makes sense. In your muzzle and blindfold, you could hardly move your face, your smiles stiff and restrained, features moving but hardly without great pain. 

     “Will I get to meet her again?” you ask, and she writes silently, the scribbles of the pencil filling the room as you watch the old people on the screen, frustration filling you.

     “You’ll know soon enough.” She senses your body heat rising quickly. “Be patient.”

     Right, she’s right. Patience.

     “She’ll be rewarded greatly for her sacrifice,” she says.

     “Who are the elders? Them?” you question, but she doesn’t answer.  

     “Tomorrow, you’ll be groomed and then put in a new cell so you look perfect for Sunday.”

     “What day is it today?” you ask, a sudden rush of concern hitting you. Do you only have a day to figure everything out?

     “Return her to her cell.”

     No. No, that’s not enough time. You thought you had more time. You can’t figure everything out in a day. If you’re taken away… you won’t get to escape. It’ll be over. You can’t do it. You can’t figure it out.

     Rough hands cover your features with your muzzle and blindfold, and everything is once again locked away.

       Your cell is silent until it’s not. The guard has left, but there’s a body looming over you. Your eyes are wide, your lips quivering. They smell familiar, and the trembling breath is something you know well, but it’s not possible. It isn’t until soft, trembling hands scratch at your blindfold that you see him. His forehead is pressed against yours, his body pushing you into the wall. His brows are pinched as he desperately gazes from one eye to the other. Puppy.

     His whimpers would meet your lips if not for the muzzles surrounding our mouths. He’s surrounding you completely, much bigger, much stronger than you, but he doesn’t even realize it, trying to be closer and closer to you. Though your hands are bound, he wants to touch you, sitting between your legs as he brings your bodies as close as possible. 

     You’re confused, and concerned, and overwhelmed, but the happiness of seeing your puppy right here in front of you overshadows all of those feelings. Tears are dripping from his eyes, maybe from bliss or worry. It’s so beautiful. 

     You lean closer, letting your head fall to his shoulder. His whimpers meet your ear, his soft breaths matching your own. 

     You look around and immediately spot the hole in the corner of your cell. Fuck, if anyone finds that, you’re both dead. You’ll cover it with your bed. It makes you laugh, just how small the hole is compared to your big puppy. He must have been so desperate to see you, squeezing in any way he could. 

     And then your laugh fades, and a tear drips from your eye. 

     It’ll be okay. 

     You push him away gently, and even so he’s reluctant. It takes a soft, reassuring hum to get him to move away. His eyes are so pretty, big and bloodshot, just for you to gaze into. You slowly close your eyes, and he pulls the blindfold over them once again. Then he’s gone, the soft scrape of your bed against the concrete sealing him into his side of the wall. 

It’ll be okay. 

You’re stripped almost completely, the only things left being the cuffs around your wrists, the chastity belt, and the muzzle around your jaw. A body once bound tightly by clothing is now bare. Your youthful features are perfect in their eyes. They’ve done a phenomenal job preserving them. To you, they’re unfamiliar. Ugly. Not your own. The only thing familiar to you which you want at all is your puppy. The compliments they give you as you walk down the halls, eyes unbound but closed, are disgusting, if anything, but meaningless. You become deaf for the first time in years. Your only sense has always been your hearing, but now you forget that too. You are nothing for the long minutes walking mindlessly down the hall, hands tied to a man, tied to Master, tied to the audience that you will be presented to. 

     When you open your eyes again, the tank is here. It’s on the stage which was blocked on the TV. It’s full of clear liquid, but it must not be water. Its surface doesn’t dare move. It’s thick, almost solid. The final preservation. 

     “Ladies and gentlemen!” Master has never raised his voice to such an extent before. It’s always been quiet and broken, just for your ears. Now, he speaks to hundreds, if not thousands of elders much like him. “Our latest graduate! Her visuals are phenomenal, voice like a siren, and obedient like the perfect woman!” The room erupts in a quick laughter. “We’ve grown her from a young girl to a beautiful adult, donated by one amongst you! Please take a close look! She’s a beauty!” 

     You’re urged forward, your feet stumbling momentarily until you’re brought under a blinding spotlight. You can’t see the audience anymore, only imagine the faces some of them would make as he described you. Tongues darting out, wrinkly, cracked lips wetted, smirks, trembles as they said something to the person beside them. The years locked in your cell, you could never even guess as to why you were locked away. You still have no idea what’s happening, but if you had known your eyes would adjust to this light and see those faces, staring at you, drooling at you, bare in front of them, you would have risked it all to run away. Fuck patience. 

     Now your master’s slimy, clammy hands are pushing you toward that tank. And you can say nothing. Do nothing but look. Hands and mouth bound, you can do nothing but look.

     The liquid is thick. You’ve only ever touched water, so what could this possibly be? It’s sticky, drawing you inside slowly and carefully. To your legs. To your hips. Your body trembles, cold, terrified. 

     “This graduate is simply too perfect to sell,” Master explains to the audience, gently stroking your hair. You almost give in and push him away. “But, if we have one perfect girl, why not twenty more? Why not fifty?!” He laughs, and everyone follows along. “I’m sure you’ve read all about our new technology! It’s revolutionary! This fluid preserves her youthful features both externally and internally. Her eggs won’t die with age. She can produce to her full capability while frozen in the tank! Isn’t it wonderful?”

     You can hear your heart over the oohs and aahs of the creatures in the crowd. It’s loud and fast yet not fast enough to support your churning mind. Should you kill yourself right now? That thought enters twice for every three thoughts of escape entering your mind. You really should. You should just kill yourself before your body enters this fluid completely. 

     It’s up to your chest, your arms frozen practically solid already. You’re gone. You’re done. You can’t even end your life. This is your ending. 

     It’s to your neck. Your heartbeat is gone from your ears, from your chest, but it continues on. It’s odd. It’s frozen, but you move slowly into it. It stops all functions, but all of your senses are enhanced within its cold envelope. It seeps into the muzzle, filling what little space is creviced in its metal to your lips to your jaw. You can’t breathe, but somehow the fluid breathes for you, air entering and exiting your lungs at a steady rhythm. Your ears. You can’t hear any longer, as if you could before. As if everything hadn’t gone numb the second you learned the truth. The second you saw the tank. The audience. Your eyes are too late to close as they’re submerged in the fluid. They won’t close. They won’t flutter. They look out into the audience, wide and unrestricted. Finally, you can see. Forever you’ll see. This is what you’ll see. The top of your head is overtaken by the fluid, and the tank closes. Everything is silent. Everything is numb. Everything is fucking over. 

     And you have to watch it all happen.

     Master comes around the front of the tank holding a tube of sorts. He opens a little door on the front of the tank and reaches into the fluid. Nothing spills out. It stays obediently still. He reaches the tube toward your chastity belt, but freezes, his eyes darting to the tank. Through the tank. He looks terrified, eyes bulging from their sockets. He drops the tube, desperately tugging at his arm to free it from the fluid. He turns to run, but a hand grabs his hair and slams him to the ground. You would start sobbing at the sight. Puppy, livid, veins bulging from his arms to his neck to his face. He raises his arms high, and when he slams them down, an axe splits Master’s head from his neck. The blood sprays over the glass of the tank, covering it completely. You hear a muffled slam and then the entirety of the glass shatters all at once. It collapses around you, but the fluid stays all the same. You see him, panting, painted red, glaring at you as he grips the axe, now snapped in two. 

     When he finally drops it, his brows soften, his veins pulsing but calming as he reaches out. His hands rush through the fluid, faster than they should be able to. He grabs you, and he pulls you to him until only the remnants of the fluid touch your skin, and you’re held tightly in his arms. You fall limp, the coating of the fluid preventing you from being able to move much. Even if you could, you might’ve just let your puppy take you away, leaning your cheek against his chest. The hallway, as he runs from the stage, is covered in blood from the floor to the ceiling. You close your eyes, feeling his hold on you tighten the further he travels and the bloodier the stench and the sight becomes. Until you hear something you haven’t heard in years. 

     Birds. 

     Trees. 

     Wind.

     Him. 

     You let your eyes look up into the sky. It’s so blue. Who knew something could be so blue?

     You recognize the glass box, the phone, the city. It’s timeless, unchanging from what you remember. It’s familiar. How nice. Puppy sets you down, and you lean weakly against the glass. He strips his shirt from his skin and quickly fumbles it over your head. What was tight on him is huge on you, covering you from your shoulders to your thighs. His chest is bare, but he doesn’t care.

     He works quickly on your cuffs. They’re practically unbreakable. Night after night, you would desperately rub them and scratch them and bang them however you could, but they were unbreakable. He snapped them in two, the metal falling to your lap uselessly. Your hands tremble as they reach out… uncuffed. His eyes look from one to the other as your hands cup his cheeks, fingers wrapping around the latch to his muzzle. It’s much like yours, only bigger. With a few motions, it too was gone, and you could see his pretty features completely. He was adorable, soft, newly abused lips perfect and plump, trembling as he paws at your own muzzle. He must not know how to take it off. His lips form a gentle scowl in frustration as he grips and pulls at it. You let him struggle for a while, smiling softly. How nice this feels… to be wanted so desperately. To be loved so thoroughly. 

     “Y/n,” he whimpers, and your eyes twitch, tears just touching the surface at the simple sound, so low, so pretty from his voice. “Help me, please,” he whispers. 

     You cover his hands with your own, and he leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed as you slowly unlatch your muzzle. You set it aside and run your fingers through his hair, pulling his head just a bit closer. His breath trembles against your lips, so comforting as you start to shiver in the cool breeze. 

     “What’s your name?” you whisper, and his eyes flutter open.

     “Yunho,” he answers, gazing at your lips as they form a gentle smile. 

     “Yunho,” you repeat. “Yunho. Yunho is pretty too. So pretty.”

     “You lied to me, Y/n,” he whispers, and your smile fades. He’s hurt. “You said you would come back no matter what, but you didn’t.” His jaw clenches, and your lip trembles as you slowly slide your hands from his hair. 

     “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, Yunho, I-”

     He grabs your hands and keeps them there, stopping their retreat. He shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Y/n, I came for you. I wanted to promise you that I would and- and I wanted to help you, but I couldn’t say anything, but now I can. I would have followed you even if you never came back.” He nods, gazing into your wide, tear-filled eyes. “Just don’t go, please. Please, don’t go. Stay here, a-nd we’ll get help, and we’ll be o-okay.” 

     You nod immediately, and his hands slowly slip from yours, a soft sigh leaving his lips. 

     He looks away, a deep blush on his blood-splattered cheeks. “Thank you,” he mumbles, a small, relieved smile shyly spreading on his lips.

     The change piled on the phone, a kind gesture by the locals, trembles as he picks them up one by one. He takes a shaky breath as he finally brings the phone to his ear. It clicks softly as the other person picks up. “Hyung…”

  You wait in an alleyway. It’s dark, the only light flickering above your heads. You’re tucked close together, your face nuzzled into the side of his neck. It’s freezing, but you have nothing but the heat of your bodies to keep you warm. His friend is coming quickly, but it’s been an hour at least. You’re both shivering, breathing the same air, holding each other close. Until the alley lights up, and a car screeches to a halt a bit away. You both glance up, eyes wide and hopeful. 

     “Yunho!” a man shouts, stumbling out of the car. He rushes over to you as Yunho slowly helps you to your feet.      

     “Yunho, I’m gonna kill you!” another man, a lighter voice, screams as he jumps out of the other side. 

     They both run, tears streaming down their cheeks as they collide with their friend. Yunho stumbles against the wall. The tinier one holds him so tightly, placing kisses all over his face as he sobs. The taller one’s eyes are wide, wiping the blood from Yunho’s cheeks, bombarding him with questions. 

     Yunho holds you close against him, unforgotten, even as they don’t even notice you at first. 

     “Get in the car quickly,” the taller one urges, pushing the both of you gently toward the vehicle. “What’s your name, sweety?” he asks, voice low and comforting to your frozen ears. 

     “Y/n,” you say, voice trembling. 

     “I’m Seonghwa,” he says softly. “This is Wooyoung.” He asks you no questions, and you’re so grateful. You just want to be warm. 

     The car is so toasty, the seats a heater themselves as you sit in its sanctuary. You want to melt into them, hardly registering as Wooyoung buckles you in before quickly getting into the front seat. You close your eyes, sighing in relief. Finally, out of the cold, out of danger, with your puppy. Everything is alright. 

     “Yunho,” Seonghwa’s deep voice softly begins, “what happened?”

     He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a slow breath. “I woke up in a cell,” he says, and your heart aches. So they take everyone in their sleep. “They put a muzzle on me a-nd cuffed my hands.” He bites his lip. “And they gave me shots every day.”

     “What the fuck?!” Wooyoung shouts, turning back in horror. “They fucking drugged you?! What were they for?! Who the fuck are they?!”

     “I don’t know,” Yunho groans. “But my body feels so weird now.” You watch as he swallows hard. “I get aggressive and weirdly strong sometimes… How long was I gone?” 

     It’s silent for a long moment “About four months,” Seonghwa says. He grips the steering wheel hard, his knuckles growing white. “ATEEZ is on hiatus. Your disappearance became public after the first month.”

     “ATEEZ…?” you mumble to yourself.

     “It’s on the news daily. They haven’t closed the case,” Wooyoung says. “Though they’re close to. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay. We’ll go to the police and call everyone over.”

     Yunho has such a relieved, happy smile on his face, lightening his features so nicely. He’s leaning his head on the seat, his hand gently touching yours as the car silently drives through the city streets. 

     “How did you and Y/n meet?” Seonghwa asks curiously.

     “She was in the cell next to mine. We couldn’t talk or anything, but we, like, sang or.. hummed to each other… and stuff…” His voice trails off as he looks out the window with a deep blush trailing from the tip of his nose to his ears. 

     “Wow!” Wooyoung’s exasperated sound turns to a loud laugh. “You’re truly an idol, Jeong Yunho!” 

     You gasp, and his face turns deeper into the window. “You’re an idol?”

     He nods. 

     You’re about to freak out, but Wooyoung changes the topic quickly. 

     “By the way, Y/n, what uh.. are you covered in? Like, what is all that?” 

     You look down at your bare arms and almost gag at the dried, sticky goo all over your skin. You forgot all about it. 

     “I wish I knew,” you mumble. 

     “Hyung, can you take us to the dorms first? So we can get clothes and showers please,” Yunho asks, and Seonghwa nods through the mirror, smiling sweetly. 

       “Should I call a manager?” Seonghwa asks as Yunho guides you through the apartment. “Does she need he-?”

     “No,” he interrupts, and you all wince, pausing at the bite in the word. His expression is scrunched, stern, mean, but it softens quickly. “No, we’ll be okay, Hyung, thank you.”

     “We’ll pick you up in the mor-!”

     The door was closed before you could even register being dragged gently into a room. Yunho’s breath is a bit uneven. Is he feeling sick? Maybe overwhelmed? He’s looking around the room a bit frantically. Everything is nice and clean, you note. Maybe his friends… or members took care of the room while he was gone. Yunho brings you to his bed and sits you down with a reassuring smile, but it twitches softly. 

     “Yunho,” you mumble, and he pauses to gaze into your confused eyes. “Are you okay?”

     He nods. “I’m okay,” he says softly. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

     He starts to walk away, but you reach out and take hold of his fingers, and he stops. “Where are you going?” you ask, gazing shyly at him. He lets a giddy smile stretch his lips. 

     “I’m going to start the shower,” he says, and you hesitantly let go of him. “You can wash first, but wait here while I get it ready.”

     “Will…” you swallow hard, staring down at your sticky hands with flushed cheeks. “Will you go with me?” His eyes are hooded, gazing at you as you tug at his shirt draped over you. “I need help getting it all off of me, and…” You lift the shirt just enough for the metal of the belt to peak out.

     “Of course, I’ll go with you,” he breathes, staring at what you’ve exposed with a heavy breath. He gently tilts your chin, his thin eyes gazing at your plump lips as he runs his thumb over them gently. He bends down, his warm breath meeting yours. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away suddenly and bringing you to your feet. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

     The water fills the bathroom with a soft steam, but he makes sure you feel it so it’s not too hot. You’ve never had a warm shower before. You’ve never showered with another person, let alone your favorite person. You already know it’ll be your new favorite thing. 

     Yunho strips behind you as you’re testing the water with your hand. You hear his clothes drop to the floor, but you don’t turn around, until his fingers are tugging lightly at the shirt on your shoulders.

     “Do you want to keep this on for now, Y/n?” he asks, and you shiver at the low sound of his voice as he says your name. It’s sensual, weirdly erotic, even though it’s just your name. You shake your head. “You don’t have to take it off. We can clean you with it on.” 

     “No,” you mumble, turning around to face him. You keep your gaze high, watching his gentle eyes with flushed cheeks. His ears are red, the tips so bright. “You can take it off.” His eyes twitch as they lower to the top. They seem to be growing less big, less shy, and a little darker.

     His fingers slip under the shirt, grazing your skin. It’s soft in some places, sticky in others. You can’t wait to feel him against you once you're clean and untarnished from that place. You want him to rewrite everything with his hands. Make you forget. Make you his own. 

     He slides them higher, and you slowly lift your arms with his subtle command. The shirt falls to the floor, and he groans softly as he gazes at your chest, your nipples erect from the sudden chill. 

     He guides you quickly into the shower, and the warm stream feels like heaven on your shivering skin. You’re covered in little bumps as you try to drown every inch of your body in its warmth. Yunho watches as you sigh under the water, loving how it slips from your hair to your shoulders to your hands. Every part of you is beautiful. He wants to feel every inch, every crevice. He just needs that fucking metal torn from your hips first. But he can be patient. If he breaks it now, he won’t be able to control himself. 

     So, as he joins you under the stream, he distracts his thoughts with your happy little smile, indulging himself with his own. You’re soaked, and he can’t help but gently push your dripping hair from your forehead, revealing your squinted, pretty eyes, big and shining just for him. 

     “It’s gonna feel so good once you’re all soft and fluffy,” he says. The goo from the tank is softening and melting in the water. You let Yunho scrub you softly, your hair first, making it smooth and clean, your arms next. He’s focused, cleaning every speck thoroughly until your skin is perfect. Your legs are next, from your thighs to your feet, he kisses softly as he cleans, and it sends little jolts of flutters to your stomach… and to your core. You keep your eyes locked on his hair as it rubs against your clean skin slowly with his careful motions. He turns you around, and your eyes meet the tiled wall. He gently moves your hair as he cleans your back. It feels so nice, therapeutic, and it’s making you relaxed, as if he could take care of you forever, and you would entrust yourself completely to him. 

     “Here, love,” he whispers, handing you the loofah. “Do you want to clean your front?” 

     You blush as you gaze down at your breasts. They would fit so nicely in his hands, the soft scratch of the loofah teasing your nipples. Your eyes grow wide as you quickly shake away your thoughts.

     “Would you feel more comfortable?”

     You could melt at the warmth of his heart. He’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever know. 

     “No,” you breathe, slowly taking his hand and guiding it to your chest. “I need your help here too,” you whisper.

     A soft chuckle meets your ear, and you shiver as his arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. “Is that right?” he hums, gently caressing your skin just under your breasts. 

     He runs the loofah over your nipples, and you bite your lip at the soft scratch. You watch as his thumb gently rubs the soap into your chest, squishing the flesh just barely, teasing both you and him as he watches every twitch of your body. He cleans your stomach, his fingers swiping lightly at the edge of the belt, and you whine. 

     “Does my princess need help here too?” he asks, and your heart flutters at the name. You nod, biting your lip hard as you watch his long fingers drape over your stomach. They cover you completely, and you practically whimper at the sight alone. “Hmm?” he hums, and you nod again. “Come on, Y/n,” he whispers, his fingers sliding between your breasts to your throat, just gently, just barely wrapping around you there. You tremble, not in fear, but in bliss. They’re hot and smooth against you, dangerous yet perfectly safe as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw. “What does my princess need?”

     “Here,” you gasp, grasping the belt. It doesn’t budge, the lock clattering against you as you hold it tightly. “Please, I need it off. I need you h-here, Yunho…”

     “Good girl,” he groans, his hand leaving your throat and grabbing the lock. With a single tug, it's gone, thrown onto the floor, and the belt follows. You feel something hot spill down your thighs, and you can’t tell if it’s the water or the desperate state he has you in, but it doesn’t matter as his fingers dip into your folds, and you melt into his chest, your body trembling as he runs his finger through your heat with a warm breath at your ear. “It’s messy down here,” he hums, his voice low, a soft growl against your skin. “Were you thinking naughty thoughts?” 

     You don’t even try to deny it, nodding as your hands travel up your body, grinding your heat against his hand. 

     “No,” he scolds, taking away all pressure against you as he places your hands at your sides. “We can’t make more of a mess, Y/n,” he warns quietly, caressing your inner thigh with his teasing fingers. You can’t handle all of his teasing, though. You’re biting your lip, your cheeks hot and heat clenching around nothing. 

     “Yunho,” you whimper, “sh-shouldn’t you also clean your body?” His hold slowly loosens on you, and you turn around, gazing at the small smear of blood on his cheek, the scratch on his neck, and the little scratches of red throughout his body. “I’ll help you.”

     You go to take the loofah, but he drops it to the floor, eyes locked on yours. “Use your hands.”

     His skin is already so soft, so perfect, as you rub the soap along his body, from his neck, behind his pink ears, to his shoulders, broad and higher than your eyes. He’s so big, even bigger now as you clean every inch of his skin. Your fingers pass over his chest, and he sighs. You feel his heartbeat, fast like yours, and… you swallow hard as your arm bumps against his hardness, moving quickly along, but he tilts his head, lifting a brow curiously.

     “That’s not very thorough,” he says, and you avoid his gaze as you finish scrubbing his arms, working hard with two hands.

     “Sh-should I help you?” you ask, finally bringing your eyes to meet his. His eyes are hooded, staring at your body as you work so close to him. “Yunho?” He hears you now, bringing his eyes to yours. Your hand slowly travels, soap bubbling along his skin as you gently wrap your fingers around him. He twitches in your hand, his eyes snapping to your touch. “Look how messy it is,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you watch precum bead at the tip. He’s so big, just like the rest of him, your fingers almost touching around its pretty base. You stroke it once, and he bites back a moan as he stops your hand quickly. 

     “Y-”

     “You’re right,” you sigh, removing your hand. The water washes away the soap, and it twitches without your touch, painfully hard now that he had a taste of your touch. “I should be more thorough.”

     You drop to your knees, and he lets out a low growl as he shakes his head. His hand grips your hair quickly, a light sensation as the stream runs down your back. 

     “Look at you,” he huffs, “so eager to please.”

     “I’m just returning the favor,” you mumble, tilting your head as you take his cock in your hand, “puppy.”

     The first fat lick from the base to the tip has him shivering. You think back on the things the guards would talk about in the hallway, learning as you go what feels good for him. You don’t tell him how you learned it all. He might get too jealous, but he seems to love the feeling of your tongue.

     His brows lift as he bites his lip in pleasure. He leans his head against the wall as you put the tip against your lips, offering a soft kiss, gazing up at him to watch each time he loses his control and grips your hair a little tighter, rolls his eyes back slightly, his hips twitching as you slowly take him in your mouth. He’s so heavy on your tongue, but the feeling is so nice. It’s comforting, watching him breathe heavily as your warmth surrounds him. 

     “Princess,” he groans, gently caressing your cheek as he holds you there, halfway on his cock. “This look suits you,” he breathes, “on your knees, stuffed with my cock. Does it taste good, baby?” You hum, and his head falls forward with a low groan. “Make sure i-it’s clean.” He bites his lip, hardly able to speak as he lets you move again, and the soft, warm velvet of your mouth runs along his length perfectly. It’s tight, so fucking tight. He can’t take his eyes off of you as your eyes unfocus, blissed out by the feeling of his cock stuffing your perfect mouth. Your lips are puffy, so cute around him. He can hardly contain his hips as he lets you go at your teasingly slow pace. He wants to fuck your mouth hard, but he absolutely won’t. Fuck, but he wants to. 

     “Can you go faster for me, Y/n?” he mumbles, slowly guiding you down his length. You gag as the tip hits your throat, your warmth constricting around him. It’s uncomfortable, but you want to please him, want to feel him twitching in you, moaning as you pleasure him. “That’s it,” he breathes. “Good job, baby, deeper. Fuck~” He lets out a long moan, blessing your ears as you relax your throat and force your nose to his stomach. “Baby, what a good girl. Fuck… ngh… so g-ood..mm... Keep going… shit..”   

     You go faster, but his grip tightens on your hair, controlling your movement as he starts to meet your mouth halfway. He’s slowly fucking your mouth, suppressing the need to thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you along his cock with each thrust. His voice is getting louder, his thrusts sloppier. He stops.

     “P-princess,” he breathes, slowly pulling you away by your hair. You suck lightly on his tip as he leaves your lips, and he curses softly, wanting nothing more than to keep you stuffed full. He stops moving as he sees his precum spread over your lips, reaching out and dragging his thumb across them to clean it up. “You keep making a mess,” he mumbles, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking it clean, gazing at you as you grow hotter at the sight. 

     “Why did you make me stop?” you whine, placing your hands on the ground to keep them from touching him again. “You feel so good in me,” you breathe, licking your lips as you stare eagerly at his dripping cock. “And taste s-”

     “Get up,” he growls, and you’re quick to scramble to your feet. “I just want to feel good together,” he admits, pushing you against the wall and stopping the water. The room goes silent, leaving only your heavy pants to be heard. “Once I saw you,” he mumbles, “walk by my cell, all I’ve wanted to do was see you like this. I know it’s so bad of me, but I want to make you feel good. I want to feel good with you.”

     “Me too,” you whimper. “I was so jealous when you felt good without me.” He smiles wide, looking away guiltily.

     His hands gently part your legs, lifting one and bringing his hips close to yours. You feel his cock rub lightly against your folds, and you let out a shaky breath.

     “I’ll make it up to you.”

     You haven’t felt such a raw sensation before, his hardness rubbing against you. The slide is so lewd, sticky and loud, echoing throughout the bathroom. His hand holds his cock against your folds as he thrusts against you. It rubs against your clit, back and forth, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You whimper, clutching his shoulders as he thrusts fast. His grunts are more like low growls with each thrust forward. It feels amazing, your voice hardly suppressed by the hard bite you have on your lip. 

     “You’re so wet,” he groans. “Making a mess when I just cleaned you up.” You whimper, rubbing your pussy against him hard as you feel the pleasure building. Your eyes are shaking, your lips leaving soft kisses against his shoulder, unsure of what else to do to distract yourself from losing your mind in pleasure. “Such a bad girl,” he growls, and you let out a soft sob as he pushes you hard against the wall, your head falling back. He kisses your chin as your head falls limp against the wall with a soft whimper leaving your lips. His teeth graze your skin, sinking down only lightly as his grunts grow to soft moans. He trails his kisses, sloppy and wet, to your neck. His hair tickles your skin, a soft contrast to the deep bite he marks into your neck.

     “Fu-uck~!” you choke, your orgasm approaching fast. This isn’t right. No, no, it’s not enough. “Yunho, please,” you whimper as he kisses away the pain in your skin. “Please, fuck, please put it in.. ngh~”

     He shakes his head. “Don’t say that,” he pants, biting his lip as he keeps his head buried in your neck. “Be good.”

     “Please,” you sob, feeling frustrated tears build quickly. “I need you inside, Yunnie, please, fuck me~ I need it so bad.” He kisses your neck with soft growls leaving his lips with each slide against your pussy. “Please, ngh, please, puppy!” 

     “I d-don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he says softly, biting his lip as he grips your body tight to gain some control over his thoughts. “I’ll m-make love to you nice, but not r-right now. I’ll hurt you.”

     Your mind flickers to the shots he talked about, how they make him feel. Tears fall from your eyes. They’re sad, frustrated, needy. You’re so overwhelmed. You need him to stuff you full. You need him to thrust hard and deep. Fuck, he’s so big. He’d rub so nicely against your walls. You want to feel him lose control. You know he won’t hurt you. Even if he does, you don’t care. 

     “Yunho, fuck me,” you pant, trying to steady your trembling voice. “I can take it. I just need it so bad. P-please, puppy, fuck me.”

     He pulls his head away quickly, dropping your leg as he glares at you, his pupils blown, his eyes heavy and hooded. As he tilts his head you see the veins bulging through his skin, his grip on you trembling as he grits his teeth. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks, voice strained. You nod eagerly. “And you think you can take it?”

     “Yes,” you whine, “I can take it. I promise, I’ll be good. Please~”

     He grabs your arm, pulling you roughly out of the shower. You’re both dripping as he rushes to his bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. He climbs over you, glaring down at you as he spreads your legs wide, sitting between them. His cock is so fucking hard, twitching against your stomach, but he forces your eyes back on his with a rough hand on your chin.

     “Every night I imagined what it would feel like deep inside you,” he growls, his hand pressing down on your stomach lightly. “What your face would look like, how your pussy would clench around me.” He scoffs. “You think that night was the only night?” Your eyes widen a little, a rush of slick wetting your folds as you listen to his every word. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

     Fuck… You whimper, biting your lip hard at the thought. 

     “All I had was your voice, but now…” He licks his lips, looking from your twitching pussy to your flushed cheeks. He gently runs his thumb along your cheek. “You think you can take it?”

     You nod quickly, but your mind is spinning so fucking fast. How dirty. Your puppy is so dirty… Making himself feel good, imagining you every night, while your hands were tied, and all you could do was imagine him, growing needy and desperate without any way to relieve yourself. 

     “Fuck me.”

     He doesn’t move his cock, his fingers plunging deep into your core. You’re wide open, your pussy drooling for him. He groans, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile as he finally lines his cock up to your folds. Without warning, his eyes, so dark, so daring, locked with yours, he thrusts in. It only goes about halfway, but your back arches with a long, pathetic moan. 

     “That’s right,” he pants, pushing further. His hair is wavy and damp in front of his eyes, but they don't look away for a second. They’re desperate to see every little twitch of your features as you take his cock like a good fucking girl. “Is this what you want, Y/n? Can you take it?”

     You nod, feeling hot tears stream down your face as he bottoms out.

     “Hmm?” he hums, rolling his lips just slightly against your quivering hole. You sob, overwhelmed with pleasure as his pelvis grinds against your clit. 

     “Yes, yes, fuuuck, yes, Yunnie, please keep going!” you finally choke out, reaching for his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. His hips stutter as he carefully starts to move. You suck on his tongue, drinking him as you move desperately against his lips, grinding your hips along with each hesitant thrust. “Faster,” you pant. “More, baby, come one.”

     You pull hard on his hair as his hips slam against yours just once, forcing a moan from your lips. He groans into your mouth, loving your reaction. He moves faster, harder, thrusting into your heat until it's all he can feel. Your lips stop moving, just resting against each other as your eyes roll back, your vision blurry with how harshly your body is used by him. He grabs your hips and slams them against his thrusts, harder and faster, drowning in your moans and whines. He can’t get enough. 

     “Y/n,” he pants, kissing your cheek sloppily as he rolls his hips, rubbing hard against your clit with the new, slower angle. “Fuck, princess, bite me,” he whimpers. “Bite me.”

     He presents you his neck, his moans muffled by the pillow. You’re too far gone to register his words for a while, deep in the drug that he’s feeding you with each delicious thrust. But your kisses to his neck come naturally, and his words register when you hear a pathetic whine from his lips. You graze your teeth against his skin, and his hips stutter, slowing before getting harder and faster, rough but without much rhythm. 

     You bite him hard, and he sobs into the pillow, grabbing your hips and digging his nails into your flesh. You’re loving every fucking sensation, his moans, right beside your blessed ears, his cock pistoning into you, his body draped over you, and his hands gripping your body like there’s nothing else he could ever dream of holding.

     Your orgasm is approaching fast, and you can hardly grasp your mind, just drowning in Yunho. He lifts his head, his moans growing in pitch and volume.

     “I’m so close,” he sobs, and you focus your eyes just enough to see his trembling lips, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes, streaming tears as he thrusts desperately. 

     It makes you cum instantly, your back arching as your walls clench around him hard, creaming on his cock without warning. Your eyes roll back hard, your vision turning white as he whimpers and sobs, releasing thick ropes of his cum deep inside. He rides out both of your highs, your moans and gasps harmonizing in the silent room. You force your eyes to stay open to watch his features blank out in complete bliss, cumming long and hard surrounded by your perfect, soaked pussy. His head falls forward as soon as he stops cumming, his cock twitching sensitively, keeping you stuffed full with his cum. 

     You hold his head to your neck as satisfied tears drip onto the pillow beneath you. His hair is almost dry by now, fluffy against your trembling fingers. He stays there for a long time, sniffling into your neck as you gently stroke his hair, something you’d wanted to do since seeing how pretty and fluffy it was in that cell. 

     He’s holding you so tight, his arms wrapped around you completely, his member still buried inside. He’s sobbing, and you close your eyes tight, holding him just as close, not saying a word until he can cry properly, like he deserves. 

     “You’re so warm,” he cries, and you smile against his head, a tear slipping down your own cheek. “How could they torture you for so long, and you’re still so warm? How could they do that to you?” 

     “You kept me warm,” you whisper, afraid your voice would break if it’s any louder. “You saved me in more ways than you think.”

     He holds you closer, close enough to feel his heart beat, to have to affect your own, have them sink and calm and soothe together. He sighs against your neck, his breath shaky but tears slowing.

     “I’ll keep you warm forever.” 

       “Seonghwa-Hyung will bring us to the police in the morning,” Yunho says as he checks his phone. You’re wearing his clothes, big and comfy, as you lounge on his blue, squishy bed. It feels just like him, fluffy and perfect for the shape of you. You could melt into it and sleep forever. You’ve never felt something so soft. Except for him, of course. 

     You look over to make him come snuggle with you, but he isn’t where your eyes left him. You frown. “Yunho?” He doesn’t answer. Maybe he went to the bathroom? Or maybe he went to talk with someone? You pout, laying back in bed. But something feels wrong. You sit up. “Yunho?” you call out again. Still no answer. You get up quickly and go to the door. Peaking out into the hallway, it’s dark and silent. No one’s there. This is freaky. Where could he have gone? You turn around, closing your eyes for a long moment. It’s okay. Maybe he went to get some water. 

     “Yunho?” you gasp, your eyes shooting open as you lunge forward. Your legs are wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, the room around you dark, quiet, cold, without him. He’s gone. He’s… The scent here is familiar. Something distant which you haven’t smelled in a long, long time. 

     The door creaks open, and a slither of light shines against the walls. “Y/n, baby, are you alright?” Mom. Her face is masked with gentle concern, but you can’t answer, staring in confusion, in silence. “Did you have a bad dream?” she asks, and you tilt your head. A bad dream?

     “A dream…?” You gasp. What’s with your voice? You look around again. The walls are covered in posters, pink and purple and black and… colors surround you. The cell, so grey… the… what… the dream… What was it about? “I don’t remember,” you whisper. 

     “It’s okay, baby,” she coos, stepping into the room. Her dent on the bed makes you lean toward her, your head falling to her shoulder, that scent of her perfume, so familiar. “It was just a dream, whatever it was.” 

     You sigh, letting your body melt into her. Yeah, it was all just a dream. It just feels like you haven’t been in her arms forever. 

       For ten years, your life seems so… unfamiliar, as if every moment you spend growing… isn’t truly happening. Every spoken word echoes, every touch vibrates softly as if it isn’t supposed to happen, and you grow used to it, but you never shake that feeling that something is utterly wrong… something is missing. Or someone. 

     Because you dream almost every night the same dream, and you’ve never told anyone, but somehow, this dream feels more real than life ever does. It started that night when you were ten. And it never went away. You’re always brought back to the darkness. You don’t understand it. You can’t see, you can’t speak, but you’re anything but lonely. You have a friend. 

     He sings to you. Through this wall in the darkness. Who is he? Why is he here? Is he stuck in this dream, just like you? But you can never ask him. 

       “I’m telling you, it’s all real,” you whine, tugging on your friend’s sleeve as she types away at her computer. 

     “You’re crazy, Y/n,” she giggles. “Even if you’ve had the same dream for fifteen years, there’s no way it’s real. You're crazy.”

     You roll your eyes. “I’m crazy? You’re fighting teenagers for a ticket, thinking an idol is gonna fall in love with you,” you laugh, but she eyes you with puckered lips, clearly offended. 

     “I could pull them,” she huffs. 

     “Uh huh.”

     “Anyway, you’re coming with me,” she says, zoning back in on the computer.

     You quirk a brow. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

     “Please,” she scoffs. “I’m paying for your ticket. In return, you have to drive me there.”

     “Whaaaat?” you groan, letting your head fall dramatically to her bed, melting into it with a deep frown. “How far away is it? Can’t you just drive yourself?”

     “It’s, like, two hours away.”

     “Whaaaat…”

     “Stop complaining,” she grumbles. “You’ll get a free- fuck, shhhh, it’s starting. Be silent.”

     You furrow your brows, burying your head into her pillow with a long, deep sigh. Whatever. It’s not like you have anything better to do. 

         You’ve heard of ATEEZ, but you’ve never actually ventured into their music. Standing outside the venue with a squirming, dolled-up bestie, you’re not really looking forward to it. She scored barricade seats, right up on these idols. It's going to be so embarrassing. You should have just agreed to drive her without getting a ticket. But… you’ll make the most of it and have fun with her.

     To say you get a weird feeling when you walk inside, though, is an understatement. You get immediate chills, pausing in your tracks as you look around. Something isn’t right. Or it is. Whatever it is, it’s weird, and you want to get out of there. The show hasn’t even started. 

     Your seats truly are right up at the stage. You’d be able to see every detail of the performance from here… every drop of sweat, every twitch of a lip, every step in the dance. 

     “I’ll be back. Bathroom,” you whisper, getting up from your seat. 

     “Hurry…” she whines. “Soundcheck starts soon. I have to introduce you to my man.” You roll your eyes before walking slowly toward the ladies room. You’ll be back in time. 

     But the uneasy feeling from earlier is growing stronger, and it’s making you nauseous. You thought it would be a quick trip to the ladies’ room, but you’re bent in two, sitting on the toilet seat, fully clothed, sweating and panting as you try to catch your breath. What the fuck is going on? Your mind is spinning around and around, only stopping when it gives you a moment’s witness of that familiar darkness. You hear the crowd erupt. The group must be on stage. They must be singing, greeting the crowd. You hear them, but you can’t hear anything as your ears tune in on his voice in that darkness, his hums which were your only company as you dreamed each night. Why are you suddenly hearing him? He’s just from your fucking dream. You grab your ears, groaning as you try to focus on the crowd, on the singing. 

     There’s a knock on your stall door, and you open it hesitantly. Knowing by the little black Mary Janes that it’s your girl.

     “Y/n,” she gasps, “Are you okay?” She kneels in front of you, gently stroking your cheek, and you can finally calm down, taking slow breaths. You realize the crowd is quiet, and the singing is over. 

     “Sorry,” you sigh, “I missed soundcheck. Had a huge-”

     She playfully slaps your cheek, standing up with a groan. “Gross,” she giggles.

     The uneasy feeling is gone for the next few hours as you relax and eat with her until the show starts. All is well, all is good. And you have a lot of fun in the end. 

     The lights dim, and the music starts, and you quickly regain that weird feeling. The members are wearing cloaks. You can’t see their faces, only watch as the cloth flows with their movement. It’s freaky. It’s cool. Even as they perform a few songs, you don’t see their features clearly until they begin their little solo dances. That’s when you really feel weird. Your heart is racing in anticipation. For what? Maybe you’re so invested into the show, but when three members dance around, collapsing at different sides of the stage, you’re met with big, wide, horrified eyes, and you realize exactly why.

     Your knees grow weak, your pupils trembling. He’s staring right at you; he knows too. Everything returns to you. Every moment, every word, every touch. 

     You’re both frozen there, just a few feet away. His hand trembles as he reaches out… for you. He reaches out, maybe he can grasp you. Maybe he can touch you. Maybe he can hold you close because why were you suddenly taken from him? Why were you suddenly sent back, separated? 

     His arms are grabbed, and he’s pulled away, aggressively taken away from you. You shout his name, but it’s drowned by the crowd, by the music. 

     A tear slips down your cheek. How could you forget everything? How could you… You think back on the last fifteen years, how you awoke that morning, just a child again, oblivious, memory wiped, living knowing something wasn’t right, something was missing. And there it is. Yunho.

     You sit down, bringing your head to your lap as tears fall from your eyes. Never have you betrayed yourself so horribly, betrayed him so unfairly. How could you leave him like that when you had promised him you would always return, that you would never leave him?

     You don’t watch the rest of the show. You can’t lift your eyes from your lap. You can’t. 

     You remember everything.  

           “Y/n, it’s really okay if you’re not up to it,” she insists, rubbing your arms gently as you eye the crowd moving toward the last event. “You’re not feeling well.”

     “No,” you mumble. “I need to go.”

    She huffs a laugh. “Were you so entranced by their performance? Did they woo you?” She snickers as if she told a joke, but you don’t get it. Rolling her eyes, she urges you forward. “Let’s go get a good spot then.”

     You’ve calmed down by now. You realize it wasn’t a dream at all. It was all real, and, by the look on his face, without a doubt, he remembers too. You need to see him again. Even if… now he wants nothing to do with you, you need to see him again. 

     You’re close to the front but hidden by other fans for the most part. They don’t come out for a while, and you’re a little nervous. You’re a lot nervous, playing with the fabric on your girl’s top. She doesn’t mind, too deep in her thoughts, probably delusional, romantic. 

     And then they come out. And your eyes search frantically for them, but there’s a lot of people blocking your view. It’s frustrating, but you have to be patient. The members go around and stop by your section, smiling, taking pictures, signing, talking. It’s cute, how they interact with their fans.

     You recognize two of them. Seonghwa looks just like he did back then, or, maybe this is around the same time as back then. Wooyoung is snappy and loud, like each person he talks to is another close friend. You recognize them, know them. It’s weird… to see more of that dream appear in front of you. 

     And him. Yunho appears, looking anxiously around as he signs and talks and smiles. He’s not paying attention to any of it, but you can tell he is. You smile, finally able to see him through the small crowd. He’s just like you remember. As his eyes find yours again, they give you that look, like you’re the only thing they’ve ever been looking for, just like in his cell, in the auditorium, and on the stage. 

     He nearly stumbles as he comes closer, eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t look scared like he did on the stage, and neither do you. There’s a deep understanding in your gazes now. 

     Your friend’s squealing beside you, shaking your arm as he stops just a few feet away. He looks around, head low. He knows there are cameras lining the crowd. All eyes are on him. He can’t say anything, and neither can you. You want to reach out, want to touch him, see if he’s real.

     “Tiny~” He smiles wide, eyes squinting cutely, but you can see a soft layer of tears hiding there. “Do you want a selfie?” He points to your phone, held tightly in your hand. You hesitantly nod, and he motions you closer. The crowd parts a bit, and you can walk forward. He takes your phone, his fingers grazing yours, and you could melt at how warm he is, how soft he is. You can smell him as he motions you closer and closer. His cheek bumps gently against yours as he holds the camera up. “Smile, Y/n,” he whispers, and your cheeks tint a deep pink as you see yourself in the camera, listen to his words, hear your name, and feel him around you. His hand curls at your opposite cheek, like a heart, and your face completes it. 

     He takes at least four pictures, all the same, but he stays there for so long, he doesn’t want to leave. As he pulls away, so slowly, and he hands you your phone, you feel a piece of paper slip into your palm. His eyes stay gazing into yours for only a moment longer before the manager beside him urges him to move on, and he’s pulled away.

     You don’t look down at the paper. You don’t make it known. Not even to your friend, who’s tugging on your sleeve and fangirling over the whole thing, practically begging to see the photos. You carefully put the paper in your pocket with a hidden, shy smile.

       “Stay. I arranged a driver for your friend.” How do you explain something like that to her? 

     But before you can even go to tell her, she’s nowhere to be seen. Your phone vibrates and lights up with a message from her. 

     “I’m gonna stay in town for the night. I want to try out the cat cafe!!! You can head back alone.”

     You stare at the message for a long moment. How convenient. 

     You’re interrupted by a clearing of someone’s throat. Startled, you lock eyes with one of the managers and nearly squeak an apology. This is so embarrassing. How do you explain that Yunho is…

     “Come with me,” he says quietly, and you eye him skeptically. “Yunho is backstage.”

     He starts to walk, and your shoulders lose some tension without his glare. It’s replaced with a growing excitement. You bite your lip as you’re guided to the back. It’s busy, and you feel so strange, like you’re not supposed to be here, but you know soon, you can finally see him again. For real, alone, where you can finally talk, and touch, and see, and everything constantly stripped from you. 

     You sigh as he comes into your sight. The door closes behind you, the room silent except for his quick footsteps. Your back hits the door as he pushes his body against you, his lips on yours instantly. You whimper, feeling his fingers run through your hair, stroking you with pure love and relief. His lips are soft but urgent as they move against yours, he breathes your name between fast kisses, and your eyes roll shut, falling deep into the feeling of him. 

     “What happened?” he pants against your lips, gazing into your eyes, forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. “Where did you go?” His voice breaks, and it squeezes at your heart as your lips tremble into a frown. “Why does no one remember?” he asks, gently caressing your cheek as he holds you just a little closer. “Why were you gone?”

     But he kisses you again, lifting your chin to keep your lips on his. He’s panting against you, his hands sliding down your neck as he feels your delicate body, your soft skin, your light shivers. They rest on your waist, gentle yet big against you, his fingers sliding just slightly under your top. 

     “Please,” he mumbles. “Don’t leave me again.” His jaw clenches as he stares into your eyes, his words growing darker as he becomes used to you back in his arms. “Come home with me.” 

       Yunho’s room is warmer than you remember. Or maybe your desperate breaths as he pins you against the wall are filling the room with a desperate heat quickly. You can tell he’s exhausted from the concert mentally and physically, but he needs to be close to you right now. 

     You walk him to the bed and lay him down. He doesn’t object much, trusting you with himself completely. You climb onto his lap and lean against his chest. He sighs with the warm weight of you, letting you stay there for a long moment. 

     “I dreamed about you,” you whisper, working on the strings of his pants lazily. “Every night.”

     “Me too,” he sighs. “I dreamed about the cell, but I thought I was going crazy.” 

     You giggle. “Me too.” 

     You pull down his sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. Then, you strip off your own pants. You work on his shirt next. He lets you do as you please, nodding off but keeping his eyes wide just to keep you in his sight.

     “Do you remember everything?” you ask, glancing away as you’re met with his bare chest. You slip off your own shirt, and he looks away too, his ears growing red, just like you remember.

     “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Except… I don’t remember what happened after I found you in the tank… until we were outside and safe,” he says. 

     Your eyes grow wide a little. “Really?” you mumble, and he nods. 

     “How did we get out?” he asks, and you avoid his curious gaze.

     “You broke me out… and we ran away,” you say, which is mostly the truth. He accepts it, smiling as he thinks back at the look on your face as you finally saw the sky for the first time in years.

     You plop down beside him, and he curls into you as you pull the covers over you both. 

     “How do we know something like that won’t happen again?” he asks, bringing you close to his chest.

     You’re silent for a moment. “Even if it does, we’ll find each other no matter what. Even when I couldn’t remember… I knew you were missing. I can’t live without you,” you say, gazing at him as he smiles. 

     “Even so, let’s promise,” he whispers, digging out his hand from the covers to hold out his pinky. “Promise that we’ll never disappear again.”

     You grin, latching your pinky with his, giggling together as you snuggle close and fall asleep.

       For years, you stay by each other’s side. You move into an apartment and change jobs to live in Seoul. You never speak to your mother again. You love your life by his side, perfect and sweet, even if his fans are a bit crazy about your relationship. You don’t mind. Everything is perfect.

     Best of all, you keep your promise to each other… for six years. 

     You don’t feel uneasy… nor warned… nor any different that night as you go to sleep in his arms. 

     And suddenly you can’t move. You can’t speak. You can’t hear.

     Your vision is foggy, your limbs bound in place, floating in a thick fluid. The tank. 

     Oh, fuck, the tank.

     The glass is clear, built around you. It was never shattered. You were never saved. 

     The room is silent. The audience… they’re bones. Bones, melting into the seats. They’re gone, dead. For years, they've been dead. For decades, maybe, and you’ve been here. It was all a lie. You’ve been here. You…

     You hear a faint cry. It’s distant, a truly saddening cry… of a child. 

     Your heart sinks. It slows amidst the sudden chaos of your mind. How long have you been here in this tank? How many… children… have you had? That is… the true use of the tank. 

     Your eyes can hardly move, and it hurts so bad, but you need to look toward the sobs. There’s more. More cries, more children. 

     But you don’t see them when your eyes finally move to your left. Instead you see another tank. Floating, much like you, is Yunho. Your eyes meet, and your heart stops. 

     You were never free. You were never free. You were never free. 

     You were here the whole time, with him, locked in this tank, forced to reproduce. You were never free. And now even your dreams are gone. You have to stay and watch as you live… like this… for how long? How long will it be until you die? Because you just want to die right now. Before you forget everything… You want to die when you can see his eyes and remember it all. 

     You want to die. You want to fucking die. 

     What’s the point? You can’t even kill yourself. You want to die. What’s the fucking point?! What’s the point?! What’s the point?! Die! Why can’t you just die! They can’t give you something and take it away again! And again! They’re fucking with you! They can’t take him away from you again! You'd rather just die! Die! Qhy can’t you just kill yourself?! No fucking way you’re going to live if you can’t have him! You’ll just fucking die!

     Tears are streaming from your eyes… Warm arms are wrapped around you as you sob. Your fists clench his shirt, nails digging into his skin. You feel his hitching breath against your nose, his tears wetting your lashes and mixing with your own. 

     “No,” he sobs, curling into you as he opens his eyes. “No, it’s okay.” His breath is trembling, unsure, but you nod anyway. Fuck, you were so scared. You were so scared. “It’s not real,” he whispers, his lips quivering as his hands grip your body so tight.

     “It’s not real,” you repeat, and he nods quickly. “W-we promised we wouldn’t disappear again,” you whisper, and he nods again. “S-so it can’t be real. It’s okay.”

     Your ears are ringing, heart pounding, but it’s all soothing as you hold him close. If you hold him close enough this time, maybe he won’t disappear. You whisper again and again to each other nonsense, comforting nonsense, just to stay awake as tears softly dampen the pillow beneath your heads. Just to survive the night, you won’t fall asleep, won’t let his eyes leave yours. 

     This is real. 

     You won’t disappear because this is real.

     It’s real.

a/n ~ thank you so much for reading ♡

mwaᯓᡣ𐭩

    taglist ~ @wisejudgedragonhairdo @prettiestttprincess @tomarisela @hypnocomedyfunnyhero @laudyadee @ari33y @sweetnsua @forestroute @sleepyheadyunho @hyukalvrr @acetyu @idktrix @alienfromneptune @cyberteez @hannahdiazsblog @aftertherain-atr @civeua @kcf4e @clut0 @mscumberbatchedhiddlestoned @tiny2018 @yoonshiiu @suki-lele @shikigamihwa @dearkys @catarinastar1 @sanniebabes @thechaotictheoryy @mulloey @cryingstudent @atinyprincesss @boo4youss @babuis @niall-itsharrysfault @everyonewooeverywhere @neptunesutopia @wooyoungiesworld @jiamoon3525 @miniaturegardenwitch @jaesmthg @midnightrebel1028 @freezedsoul @certifiedmoa @miyaluvvsyou @clxudss @zaynsfl4m3s @mariana-mmtz @mingismangi @jinxtheta @smally97 @haerinimiku @pixheu @yunshakes @yun-fangz @midnightreader-06 @uhhheather @teeztopia @dubuyunho

[rikiislvr]

unavailable - nishimura riki

pairing: afab!reader x nishimura riki

summary: fresh out a relationship with a heavy heart, niki seeks comfort in his best friend, not knowing you were falling for him

warnings: cussing

you had just finished showering, drying your hair off, you glance back at your phone, nope. no messages.

niki, your best friend since childhood, was on a date with his girlfriend, he was freaking out and telling you all the details until he suddenly just stopped, so you wondered what they were doing now.

you adored them together. whenever you saw them in the hallway giggling together or holding hands, you couldn’t help but feel so happy for your best friend that he found someone who makes him happy.

you check the time, 12 at midnight, you let out a long yawn and shut the lights, climbing in your bed and putting your phone aside.

before you could finally get the long awaited sleep you’ve been craving all day, your phone rang, you groan,

you grab your phone and answer it,

“hello?” you heard him, his voice shaky,

“niki? what’s up? how’d it goooo~” you say teasingly, but your smile quickly faded when you heard sniffs, was.. he crying?

“ki?” you say again,

“i’m.. outside.” he says, you quickly got up and ran down, quietly not to wake your parents.

you open the door softly, looking up, niki had his head down, tears streaming down his face and flowers that were drooped over in his hands. you couldn’t help but frown at his state.

“ki.” you walked up and pull him in a hug, which is took as a opportunity to cry in your shoulder, “cmon, my parents will wake up.” you pull away and step aside,

he steps in slowly and you close the door, going up to your room, he followed.

you close your bedroom door once you two were in, he sighed and threw the flowers in your trash bin, and sat on the edge of your bed.

you cross your arms, “what happened ki?” you say softly, “she uh..” he cleared his throat, “she ended things off..”

you felt your heart shatter, you knew how much he loved her. “my goodness.. why?” you sat beside him,

“i’m not what she was looking for anymore..” he shrugged, you furrowed your eyebrows.

not what she was looking for anymore? they’ve been dating for 5 months and she’s just now realizing it?

“that’s such bullshit. i’m sorry.” you sigh and rub his arm,

before you could open your mouth to say anything else, niki quickly lounged in your arms, sobbing softly into your shoulder, your heart broke.

you’ve seen and heard him cry before growing up but.. never like this. and it was killing you inside, because you only ever rooted for his happiness.

you rub his back, closing your eyes listening to his sobs, it was killing you but you knew he had to let it out somehow.

you decided to let him get more comfortable. “ki. cmon let’s get your in a more comfy state.” you tap his arm, he sniffed and pulled back, his face red with tears streaming down.

you frown and grabbed his hand and pulled him to your bathroom, you tuned in the light and looked up at him.

“i’m not gonna let you drive home like this.” you say, he didn’t reply, you grab a wet washcloth and wipe his face,

pushing back his hair to reveal his puffy red eyes, “i’m so sorry ki.” you sigh, he just blinked, you removed his jacket and pulled him back to your room.

“i’ll let you sleep in my bed, i’ll take the couch okay?” you tell him, on niki’s end, he wanted to protest, and he did.

“why?” he says low, “we’ve always slept together as kids.”

you chuckled, “i wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone or not.” you shrug, he shook his head, “no.. not really. i can’t be alone with my thoughts right now.” he cleared his throat, you smiled softly and nod.

laying down, you lift your blanket for him to lay beside you, he slowly made his way over, laying down. you weren’t sure if you should comfort him or give him space.

you laid on your back, slowly blinking off, you were on the peak of sleep until you felt pressure on your arm, you look over, seeing niki laid his head there, sniffing softly.

you frowned, and wrapped your arm around him, pulling him to lay against you, “you’re gonna be okay, alright? we’ll get through this together.” you reassure him, he nodded and closed his eyes softly.

you waited for a bit, and until you heard his breathing slow a bit, you knew he was sleep, you smiled to yourself.

you were just glad you could be here for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on, it made you feel special. and with that, you closed your eyes next, falling asleep shortly after.

a/n: debating if i should continue this or not, i lowkey want tooooo 😙

tl: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet

[kingkat12]

feeling (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, fingering, voyeurism, semi-public sexual activities, smoking, teasing, praises, Roman shouldn't be allowed on school grounds

summary: you've finally mastered the art of feeling nothing at all. emotions don't serve you, they're painful, and everything about them downright suck. however, what happens when you're suddenly faced with the fact that feeling can feel... good?

word count: 3,200

a/n: hey luvs!! I've always hated being someone that feels everything deeply and painfully, even the smallest things, so I wrote the start last night just to get it out of my head, but... you know me, it spiralled, SORRY!!! tihi oh well, enjoy!<33

Everything in life had to be a fight. Always.

Living could be so painful sometimes. Feeling was exhausting. Therefore, it was easier to shut down all my emotions instead of dealing with the overwhelming pain cramming itself down the veins of my forearms, ripping through the vessels of blood at the tips of my fingers with every bad thing that happened in my life. 

If I could walk around with a sign saying 'I'm not trying to be mean, I just don't care enough', I would. People always assumed I was a piece of shit due to my inclination never to smile. However, the sign would make me more of a freak at school than I already was, and I had an inkling that I shouldn't dig myself a deeper hole than I already had. High school was hard as it was, why complicate it further?

My lack of social indulgence left me rather lonely. Not that I cared. It was easier this way-- I didn't have to pretend to be bearable to be around. I didn't have to smile, I didn't have to laugh, and I didn't have to fake anything in the world. 

However, I wasn't allowed to live peacefully on my island of isolation. Every so often, a little boat would float by the shore and ask to park by the dock for a short break, to rest from its travels and seek momentary company, despite the fact that I hadn't sought this out whatsoever. And to make matters worse, the boat would do so every day, with its voice calling louder with every passing of the sun and moon-- eventually, I had to relent. 

So here we sat, on my island of isolation, also known as the empty bleachers. Roman pulled two cigarettes out of his box and placed them between his plush lips, lighting both at the same time. It had become a ritual of sorts, where he'd approach whenever he saw me at school and sit with me in silence for a little cigarette break. When we first started running into each other like this, he would try to small-talk, but this died down when he pieced together that silence was the best for us both. 

We needed the time away from everyone, Roman probably more than I. He handed me the cigarette, and we exchanged a short nod at the other with the exchange.

Someone wise once said that you learn something new every day. Because after all this time watching his extroverted social life from afar, wondering how he had the energy for all the people around him all the time, I realized there was only one other person in the world that understood the wish to surrender of a full-body shutdown as well as I did-- and that was Roman Godfrey. 

And that was why he sat here with me, smoking in silence.

Still, after all this time, I never knew why he sought me out. Why he had approached at all the first time, and why he had chosen me. Was it maybe that he saw solace in my carefree rejection of everything and everyone? I wondered whether he wished to be like me. 

And I wondered whether he knew that I wished to be like him.

I loved to watch the way Roman inhaled the first drag of his cigarette-- it was always with a small moan followed by his eyes closing, his legs spreading out on his seat, and a nod to himself. Like he had been waiting for a new hit for years. Because whenever I watched him and his ritualistic ways, I felt specks of something. The only something that didn't hurt, and didn't feel like my arms were about to rip themselves open and gush blood. 

When he didn't look, I allowed myself to smile. I could give in to it. And today, after months of sitting in silence and barely exchanging more than a few sentences about ourselves, I wanted to tell him what was on my mind. "Roman?"

He slowly opened his eyes, surprised that I had spoken. "Shit," he breathed, exhaling a ring of smoke. "You broke your vow of silence for me? I'm flattered."

I would've laughed. His tone was dead serious, yet I could see him fighting a smile. Nonetheless, I went on, but in a different direction; "Do you think we're friends?" I asked, inhaling another drag of smoke.

Roman stilled, watching me. He was surely trying to calculate the way this conversation was going, or what I was trying to get at. Eventually, he spoke; "No,"

"No?"

"No," Roman shrugged-- "You sort of remind me of this guy I once knew, Tyler. He was at every party I was at, and he always had a stash of weed with him, so we ended up smoking it on the porch at, like, every occasion. I never knew anything about him, though, so I don't think we were friends."

"And... you don't think Tyler thought you were friends?"

It looked like Roman hadn't thought about that. "I don't think he ever cared," he mumbled. "And I didn't think you did either."

I nodded to myself as I exhaled the smoke, unsure whether to keep his gaze or look away. I was scared I'd start feeling again, with the way this convo was going. "Alright then," I said, rolling the cigarette between my fingers. 

Perplexed, Roman's brows drew together. "Would you want to be friends?"

"No,"

"... Okay?" He let out a laugh which sounded an awful lot like a huff, and he shook his head as threw the cigarette down to the floor and stomped it. "Luckily for you, you've made it to the rapid round of today's quiz." Roman turned to me, nudging my shoulder. "And I'm allowing myself to be nosy, for once. So, tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you don't want to be friends,"

It spilled past my lips easier than I thought it would; "Because you make me feel,"

A pause. It was too long. 

"Feel?" Roman looked more puzzled than before. "Feel what?"

"Just... feel. You make me feel stuff,"

"What stuff?"

"Just stuff!" I wasn't sure why it annoyed me to explain it to him. In my mind, he should've gotten it. Understood it. "It's not a particular feeling, it's just feeling in general."

Roman cleared his throat, and with his next breath, he took the cigarette between my fingers into his hand. "Ever heard of sociopaths"? he muttered, taking a drag. With the way his shoulders tensed, I couldn't make out whether he was nervous or excited. 

"I'm not a sociopath,"

"Then what the fuck do you mean?" Roman leaned in closer, yet I didn't move. Up close, his eyes were much greener, much more vibrant-- I didn't want to think about it. It made my stomach flutter. 

"You stole my cigarette..." What else was I supposed to say?

Roman stifled a laugh. "I didn't steal it. Ever heard of sharing? It stems from an emotion called caring,"

"Fuck you,"

Being so close to him was intoxicating. Stupid. Dangerous. My heart hadn't beat this fast in months-- why had I opened my mouth at all? My thoughts raced as Roman reached forward, gently placing his thumb on my bottom lip as he watched my eyes widen. A shaky breath escaped me, fanning the skin of his fingers. With a soft push that didn't meet much resistance, Roman pressed down on my lip, parting my mouth as he took a drag of my cigarette, maintaining just about the most intense eye contact I had ever had in my life. 

There was nothing I could do to move away. Not that I wanted to, anyway. So when Roman's upper lip brushed up against mine as he leaned in close, exhaling the smoke into my mouth, I was sure my heart would jump out of my chest, up my throat, and leap right at him. 

Even after I inhaled the substance, Roman didn't move away. My mind was buzzing, wondering what to do, whether to say something, whether to ask what was going on-- all I knew, was that I had enjoyed the first physical contact I'd had with another human in a while. 

"I've always wondered what it must be like to be a sociopath," Roman whispered against my lips, his thumb leaving my skin. "Do tell."

The more flustered I became, the more my cheeks burned. "I'm not a sociopath,"

"What are you, then?"

"Exhausted," I breathed. "Do you know how tiring it is to feel?"

Roman let out a huff, a laugh, as he let the cigarette burn out between his fingers. "It can be exhausting if you're feeling all the wrong things, sure. But if the feelings are good..." His voice lowered as his nose nudged mine with a teasing touch, and I could feel him smile against me as he heard the small hitch of my breath. "If they're good, you'll suddenly find yourself wanting to feel everything all at once." 

Everything indicated that he would kiss me. I couldn't believe it. My heart raced in my chest as air refused to leave me, and I could feel the drumming of my blood coursing through my veins in anticipation. This was a rush unlike any other. So I braced for it, stilled in my seat, made my mind accustomed to the thought--

Until I couldn't feel his breath falling against my cheek anymore. Until all I felt was the cold breeze of the air brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I opened my eyes only to find Roman was getting up from his seat next to me. He briefly turned to catch a glimpse of the stunned expression on my face before he gave in to a snicker. "There you go, there was my crash course," he joked. "Sorry for making you feel things again, I guess. It wasn't my intention. This was nice though." Roman motioned to the both of us-- I didn't like his tone. This felt like a goodbye. This felt like I had broken some holy contract I didn't know I had signed. "I'll leave you alone from now on, don't worry. I'll find out whether Tyler is available for cig breaks at school instead--"

I had no idea what came over me as my hand shot forward and clasped his wrist. "Don't do that,"

"Do what?" Roman was unreadable-- a part of me wondered whether he was dragging this reaction out of me on purpose. Had his skills with people brewed down to developing mastery of manipulation? 

"Did I piss you off somehow?" I tried. "Did I say something wrong?" 

Roman's brows raised in confusion. "You haven't done anything,"

"Then why are you leaving?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "You said that you didn't want to feel anything. And since I make you feel stuff, I'm doing you a favor, no?"

Roman was a smart guy-- I had known it deep down. Still, I rose from my seat, only to be reminded of how tall he was. How handsome he was. "And what if I... want to feel?"

Silence laid itself like a thick duvet over us as we stood and stared at each other, none of us knowing when to speak or what to say.

Eventually, Roman let out a short hum as his eyes rounded out. There was an emptiness to his gaze. "I don't have any love to give," he breathed. "If that's what you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place."

That was almost nice to hear. Love would've been too grand of a start. I finally spoke; "Not that. I just... want to feel good again. I don't remember how that feels anymore," 

Roman's ears perked up. "Oh?" The corners of his mouth curved into a look I couldn't decipher. It was somewhere between intrigue and calculated success; 

"Well... I could make you feel real good, that's for sure."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

So... I succumbed. Not everything had to be a fight, at the end of the day. 

I succumbed in a secluded part of the school library, a section Roman said nobody ever came to. He had led me down a path of stairs, past the archeology section and the biographies of famous mathematicians, and into the far corner of the philosophy area. 

It was there that he had finally kissed me, finally pulled me in by my waist, and led my back against the wall next to a whole row of books about Platon-- and it was there that he put his large hand beneath my skirt and pressed the heel of his palm into my clit through my underwear, making me gasp into his mouth. 

I squirmed, my grip in his hair tightening as I pulled him closer. Roman tasted like cigarettes and smelled like expensive perfume you'd test out at an airport when you're bored at Duty Free. However, my thoughts dulled as my hips keened into his hand, against the sweet pressure, and my heart thumped harder in my chest with every brush of his lips against mine. 

"So..." Roman whispered, his cocky smirk gracing his beautiful face. "Feeling anything yet?"

Bastard. He knew damn well. "Yeah-- Yes," 

"Good," With a rather patronizing laugh, Roman pressed kisses to the corners of my mouth. "I've waited to see you like this for so long, do you know that? Since the first time I sat next to you and you barely paid me any mind, I've wanted to see you squirm." My breath hitched as he pressed his finger into the wetness that had formed in my underwear, tapping it to test the slick. His lips brushed over my ear; "Should've done this earlier, hm? Relieved you a little, made you feel good?"

This was the most horrifying feeling of gratification ever. I never thought I'd be the type for this sort of behaviour, but I suppose life pushes you toward the direction you're destined to take, right? 

"Who would've thought," Roman purred, a small chuckle building in his chest. "And here I thought you were one of those people that don't even get horny. Bet you're the type to lay in bed and get off when you're bored." 

My cheeks burned. Burned. "N-No--"

"No? Aw, you're still fighting," And just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, Roman pulled my panties aside and eased a finger into me. I couldn't meet his eyes anymore as my hands gave into a tremble, and I clutched the fabric of his shirt as I hid my face in his chest. 

"Tell me, then," Roman whispered, reaching his free hand into the hair at the nape of my neck to pull me away from him. He dragged my head back, forcing me to look up at him as he pressed himself further up against me, cornering me as he pushed my back harder into the wall. I was panting against his lips at this point, feeling him curl his finger into my sweet spot like he had done this a thousand times before-- he probably had, anyway. I hated the jealousy that coursed through my veins, one of the emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel in ages. He spoke with a smug grin; "Tell me what you're feeling, you little psycho."

That would've earned him a snicker, had I not been in such a compromising position. "Good," I breathed, finding his green eyes. "Feels-- Feels n-nice."

"Nice? Only nice?" Roman tsked, shaking his head. "That's not enough." And with that, he eased another finger into me, which only had me gripping his shirt harder. Being filled by Roman's fingers like this, knowing we could be walked in on at any moment, made my whole body burn with adrenaline. "Ro--"

"How many times have you thought about this when we've been smoking, huh? Don't tell me you've been wishing I'd do this shit this whole time?" Roman pressed a kiss to my ear as his fingers stroked into me, pressing into my sweet spot with a gentle rubbing-motion. 

I could only shake my head. That was the truth. I hadn't ever allowed myself to think about him like that to spare my feelings. I know I'd have been squirming in my seat, staring at the way his hair always fell over his eyes, and the way his broad shoulders sunk in pleasure with every inhale of nicotine, if I had allowed myself to think those thoughts.

"No?" he cooed, feigning disappointment with a pout. The way he was almost mocking me made my stomach flutter-- or was that his fingers? "Well, I have. Many times. I've always wondered if it'd make you talk or shut down more. Or mostly, I wondered how you'd look if I did--" Roman placed his thumb on my clit, and the added stimulation only made my eyes water with pleasure as my hips bucked into his hand once more. "This."

"Fuck--" I hissed, leaning forward to kiss his neck. If Roman wasn't going to make it easy for me, I had to shut myself up somehow. Now more than ever, his perfume was prevalent. 

He let out a small sigh of pleasure as the thrusts of his fingers grew harder, not paying any mind to the way my knees gave into a slight tremble. "God, wouldn't it be bad if we were caught right now?" he said with a laugh. "You wouldn't be known as the quiet one anymore, that's for sure." Roman pulled me away from his neck with the hand he had in my hair and scanned the look on my face. My eyes glossed over as I drowned out my moans with heavy breaths; "Fuck-- Fuck you!"

"Is that how you talk to your friends?" Roman cooed, leaning down to press a short kiss to my lips, the soft pillows of his mouth pushing me into submission. "Cause wasn't it friends you wanted us to be, hm?" 

I couldn't answer. Not when his tone made me clench around the stretch of his fingers, not when he looked this good, not when he talked to me this way. "N-No,"

"No?" 

"No!"

"What, then? Best friends?"

If I could punch him, I would. Yet I only managed to gather the strength to suppress another moan, feeling my high creep up on me faster than ever before. It was almost embarrassing how fast I was about to cum on Roman's fingers in the fucking school library. He was making a wreck of me. "Wait, I-- no, fuck, I might--"

"Ulta-mega-best-friends?" Roman only giggled as his unrelenting pace continued. "Fuck-friends would probably serve us both the most, though, hm?"

"Okay, s-sure--"

"Don't you think?"

I let go of his shirt as my body keened against his fingers, sinking down a little against the wall as I squeezed my eyes shut. The pooling feeling of arousal in my stomach made me tense up, and I prayed I wouldn't collapse to my knees-- I hadn't had a standing orgasm before. How did that even work? "Yeah," I cried. "That-- That sounds good."

Roman kissed me again as a reward, smiling from ear to ear as my muffled moans filled the empty section of the library. I clamped down on his fingers, feeling my clit pulse against his thumb as I gave in to the strongest, most intense feeling I'd had in months. 

"That's it, feel it all," he purred, rubbing me through my orgasm. 

"Good girl."

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 ~ 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

Synopsis: what happens when you wind up in a closet with Emo!Nanami Kento while playing 7 minutes in heaven at a Christmas Eve party? 🍻🎄🎁

Words: 3.4k

CW: x FEM!READER, EMO!NANAMI KENTO, College AU, alcohol, smut (dry humping, breast/nipple play, cum in pants), shy and less experienced Kento, fluff, light angst.

a/n: sooo i bit off more than I can chew this month but what's new lolol. fuck it, enjoy. My emo!Kento inspiration as always: @actuallysaiyan 🧎🏽‍♀️ILYYY!! 💕

12 Days of Smutmas Masterlist 🎁🎄🎅🏽

dividers by @/saradika-graphics, pics from pinterest

"Your turn, Nanamiiiii!"

Kento turns redder than the god awful Rudolph sweater Suguru talked him into wearing tonight as all faces at the Christmas party turn on him at once. You avert your shy gaze from him as you feel him look in your direction. You would've gotten caught were it not for the loud interjection by Gojo.

It was Christmas break. The temperatures plummeted and snow cradled the ground in its icy embrace. The pressure of academia had been switched out for a chill of anticipation for the impending holidays that would soon make its jolly debut with tinsel and holly.

You were doing what you could to soak it all in while it lasted before you had to go back to prison (university): complete with sweaters, hot drinks, binge watching your favorite animes, and writing, leaving not much else to do.

So, what better thing to do on a Christmas Eve like this one than get together with some of your old friends, drink a little too much, and play 7 minutes in heaven?

And that's how you ended up here, only this time you locked eyes with a face you hadn't placed before.

Nanami Kento was his name, apparently, and fuck, he was cute. But not in a way you'd expect. He wasn't like the hearthrobs Satoru and Suguru whom your friends loved to fawn and gush over and were the object of everybody's desire.

This Kento was shy. Like, really shy, to the point that most would find it off putting, but you found it endearing. How his face turned red and he tripped over his sentences and stayed in the corner. His lean frame and those long legs. How, when he did speak, his voice was mellow yet rich. You even got a sneak peak of that smile that seemed so elusive whenever one of the others would have a witty remark to share with the group. His beauty was almost completely concealed behind his long golden bangs that fell in his face over those fleeting pools of honey that were his eyes, but still, you loved it that way.

"Ohhhh shit!!!!!"

You're too busy daydreaming like it's high school all over again to even notice the neck of the empty bottle of prosecco being spun in the middle of the circle on the sticky living room floor had landed on you.

"Girl, wake up! It's go time!"

"Huh?"

And your mind spent minutes trying to catch up as your friends shuffled you and Kento through the crowd til you tripped, landed, and almost fell on top of one another, stuffed inside Gojo and Geto's cramped closet, muffled giggles on the other side.

"Don't have too much fun in there, you twoo!"

"Sorry." Kento mumbled as he gained his bearings and untangled himself from you, only to accidentally almost trip backwards over Gojo's tennis racket.

"Shit..." Kento curses under his breath and is immediately thankful for the non-existent light, so that you wouldn't have an up close view of his tomato splotched face of embarrassment.

"Someone teach that idiot how to put away his stuff?" He sighed and sat on the floor, back of his head leaned against the wall.

You can't make out much of him in the dark, either, but all at once, you feel very hot at this sudden plunge into one another's space. You take his initiative and sit down as well, gasping and moving your feet away quickly when your legs accidentally land on top of his. "My bad..."

"It's fine." Kento replied, trying not to focus too much on the warmth you emitted.

Awkward silence permeates the air. You weren't sure how much time had passed, but it felt like the longest 7 minutes of your life. At the same time, you desperately didn't want this to be one where you just sat in silence. You wanted to know more about him, and maybe just maybe, get a kiss or two if the moment felt right. No, you certainly wouldn't complain about that.

"Your name is Kento?"

"Last time I checked."

"Huh."

Silence.

"How do you know Satoru and Suguru?"

"They were in a class above me at Jujutsu High."

"Really? So when did you graduate?"

"2008."

"Hmm, small world."

More painful silence.

You chip away nervously at your black nail polish. Gods, why did they have to put the two introverts together? Of course you were gonna have to be the one to do all of the icebreaking.

"So, um...what's your favorite color?"

Kento raised a brow. "You're...asking me what my favorite color is?"

You shrug. "Why not? How else to get to know someone better?"

A close lipped smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, then he thought for a second. Jeez, nobody's asked him stuff like this since... elementary school?

"Um, black. Or maybe a dark blue..." He folds his arms, shifting his hips so he's more comfortable. "You?"

"Hmmmmm..." You think to yourself. "I like black too. And purple, specifically lavender. Brown. Or- ooh, I also like pink and green. Grey, shades of blue..."

"Why not just the whole rainbow?" Kento jokes shyly.

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm indecisive!"

"Indecisive?" Kento asks, slightly amused. "So if I ask you a question, you're not gonna be able to answer any of them?"

"Why not see for yourself?"

"Alright then." Kento hums. "What music do you listen to?"

"That's a loaded question. Depends on my mood. But umm I've been listening to Modest Mouse a lot as of late."

"Really?" Kento's ears perk up. "I listen to them too! Favorite song?"

"Hmmm Little Motel."

"Nice." Kento nods, a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Maybe you have more in common than he thought.

"What about you? What do you listen to?"

Kento laughs half-heartedly. "Too many to list but umm, MCR, Brand New, The GazettE, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, The Used, Red Hot Chili Peppers-"

"No way? I love all of those!" You beam from ear to ear. "I haven't heard of The GazettE, though."

"Well, I could show you sometime..." Kento immediately wants to slap himself for saying that out loud.

"Really? I'd love that." You respond, butterflies in your tummy at how well this was going. "So, jam sesh, whenever you're free?"

"Fine with me." Kento tries to play it cool.

You both grin and look at the ground, trying to figure out what to talk about next.

"Watch any anime?" Kento asks shyly.

Oh boy, and he watches anime?

"Course I do..." Your smile begins to creep back up.

And for the next couple of minutes, you discover not only do you love the same artists, but the same anime, movies, and TV shows as well, even coming out of the conversation with a few new ones you hadn't heard of but but planned to look into as soon as you got home.

There were definitely more layers to Kento than you realized, and the gravity of each revelation about him just pulled you closer and closer together, both literally, and figuratively as you now sat side by side against the closet wall, thighs and arms touching.

"So..."

"So...?" Kento repeats as if it's a question.

You want to kiss him, and if you were reading everything that transpired in the last 4-5 minutes or so correctly, he wants to as well. I mean, you're practically on top of each other already and he wasn't fighting to get away, so that had to be a good sign, right? Well, there wasn't like he had much of an option, anyway.

Fuck, why'd this have to be so hard?

Next to you, Kento's wondering the same thing. Calling out to whatever higher power exists in the universe to give him the shred of strength he so desperately needs right now. He doesn't want to fuck this up.

Don't be a goddamn pussy.

"Hey, Kento?"

Fuck.

"Yeah?"

"You know, I'm not sure how much longer we have in here, I mean, it feels like it's been forever, haha.."

"Y-yeah. Longest 7 minutes of my life." He half jokes. "Wait, no, I didn't mean that in a bad way I-mean...Oh, fuck..."

He's red as a berry again, once again thankful for the scarce light.

"Haha, no, I get what you mean, I just..."

"You don't have to kiss me, you know?" Kento half blurts, feeling more than embarrassed. "I mean, I-I wasn't expecting you to want to do anything at all with me so...so, yeah. Don't feel bad. I'm used to it..."

Your mouth fell open a teeny bit. Here you were, flirting your socks off with this guy, thinking you were so obvious in your desire, but now he's assuming you don't want him and that he's used to people rejecting him?

You can't help but feel a little shock and sting of sadness at this statement. In your eyes, he was absolutely perfect. Sure, he was shy and awkward,but fuck, so were you.

In fact, his shyness was what made him all the more desirable to you. He was soft spoken, intelligent, humble, and kind. Much better than 99.9% of the guys back at the university who were loud, abrasive, cocky, and just wanted to get in your pants.

Kento was an absolute diamond on the inside, you just needed to do a little bit of digging. You silently wished you could throw hands with anyone who ever made him feel the opposite. It doesn't quite compute in your mind how anyone could pass up someone so beautiful that you had ever encountered in your life.

"Well, maybe I want to..." You whispered.

"Huh?" Kento is waiting for the gotcha moment when the camera comes out, thinking maybe Gojo had set him up on a prank for the nth time (he lost track by now). But no such moment arrives. It's just you and him in this dark, quiet closet with dwindling space between you and too much tension.

"I want to kiss you, Kento. Do you wanna kiss me?"

He recognizes that tone. It's sultry and soft. And God, hearing it come from someone as gorgeous and sweet as you does something indescribable to him in that moment, but for some reason or another, he's just frozen in place.

"Y-yeah..."

"Yeah? You're sure?" You're on your hands and knees, right up against his face which he can faintly make out in front of him, the shape of your lips barely outlined from the speck of light coming from the tiny crack at the bottom of the door.

"God, yes-"

And without thinking, he cups both sides of your face and meets your softly parted lips, harsh and sloppily.

Your eyes widen a little bit, then close. He wasn't much of a kisser, but you could work with that. You stayed where you were, slowly exhaling through your nose as you allowed your lips to linger on his for just a moment, trying to ignore how hot your body instantly became the moment your mouths clapped together.

You pull back, slowly, and Kento flushes deep red again at the light string of spit connecting you two.

"It's okay..." Your lips curl upwards into that gorgeous smile he loved so much. "I really liked it..." You lean in and brush your nose delicately against his. "Can we keep going, sweetheart?"

Kento melts a bit, his own eyes heavy underneath this sudden, hazy effect you were having on him by now. "Y-yeah of course."

"Okay..." You whisper back, smiling with a little tease of your teeth on your bottom lip before you kiss him again.

You taste like cranberry spritzers, spearmint, and balmy chapstick. You moan softly as your flavors begin to slowly mix with Kento's as your tongues slowly prod and wetly glide into each other's mouths.

He was a fast learner, you'd give him that. He accepted you eagerly, meeting you with some newfound passion of his own that became clearer to him with each subtle smack of your lips. You picked up his taste of whiskey and cola, hands running through his tousled locks as you began to lower yourself into his lap.

Kento lowly gasped as your lips departed from his and began gently, lovingly, sprinkling kisses on both of his cheeks, then his jaw. His shaky hands departed from where they were on your neck and began to tightly grip your hips, digging into your flesh as he grit his teeth.

"Still doing okay...?" You cooed, dragging your lips down his neck, catching fleeting traces of his Axe body spray and his floral laundry detergent that only made you want to further nuzzle into him.

Kento gasped again, closing his eyes as he knew he must be turning impossibly red. He had never felt so desired, so aroused until right now. Making out with a beautiful girl like you was a daydream he only indulged in when he was completely alone, knowing the odds this fantasy would reach past his eyelids were slim to none.

Nobody had looked his way, until you. And here you were, starting to slowly grind in his lap, sending him into orbit with each time your clothed pussy lingered and pressed just right over his growing bulge.

"Y-yeah, fuck, so good..." His head gently hit the back of the wall again with a whimper of your name, and you smothered his neck in kisses, everywhere you could reach. He sighed and surrendered to the feeling, drinking it in as long as he possibly could.

You were quelling a thirst that had been years in the making. If the timer went off and the door ripped open exposing you and him with each other's tongues halfway down the other's throat, then so be it. In this moment he doesn't care. This feeling was one he longed for, one he needed to feel all the time. And best of all it was with you, the bewitching new girl he locked eyes with fatefully at some random Christmas Eve party.

"Kento?" You purr in his ear. "You can touch me too, don't be shy..."

"Mmm?" Kento's face heats up again, embarrassed that he was stiff as a board this entire time. "S-sorry. Hah, you were just, ahh..." He sucks in air quickly between his teeth. "Y-your lips were really distracting..."

You giggle, bringing your sweaty foreheads together as you gave him temporary reprieve so he didn't explode all at once. "It's okay. I was getting distracted, too..."

He brought his hands slowly to your chest, his large palms enveloping your tender globes over your Christmas sweater. His lips part and he feels his cock rage through his jeans at the allure of the soft bounce of your breasts as you gently toss your head backwards.

He holds them like weights in his hands, beginning to gently roll the mounds of fat like dough, carefully kneading, his mouth watering as he brought them together, and separated.

"C-can I?"

"Please, Kento..."

And he swiftly lifted your sweater up, finding your left nipple quickly in the dark. Wafts of your waning perfume fan his nose as he swirled and flicked his tongue over the pebbled areola.

His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he could hear and sense every beautiful little gasp and sigh of pleasure he was bringing out of you the more his warm mouth massaged over your perky bud. He moved to the right to give it attention as well, his heavy cock straining and leaving a faint wet spot in his boxers where the precum began to steadily seep through.

He was relying on memory, all those pornos he watched of girls getting their tits and nipples sucked and played with. With every shuddering breath of his name that quivered on your lips, his dick swelled and throbbed with pride. And it seems his observations paid off as every languid, smooth drag of his tongue on your breasts made you whine louder and louder.

"Kento, so good, fuck so good..."

"I'm doing good, baby?" He groaned softly before taking your tits in his slobbering mouth again, practically intoxicated on the way the silky fat squished on his tongue.

"You are, Kento...don't stop..." You panted, rolling your hips some more in his lap right over his huge boner, the slow churn against his cock was the only thing that could soothe this warming feeling between your thighs.

It became very apparent that he was well endowed, as he fiddled with his zipper and undid it just a bit, the thin cotton of his boxers giving you just enough of a preview to make out the ample girthness of his length that throbbed and pulsed against your dripping cunt in your panties.

It was addictive to you both, as Kento pulled back slightly to focus on the steady rhythm you had set in his lap, hands now resting on your hips, guiding and meeting every careful circle you were drawing with an eager buck of his hips. You slapped a hand against the wall as you focused on riding him, now fully dry humping one another in this closet.

You were only one step away from sex. If he freed his straining cock and moved your panties to the side, it would only be milliseconds before he'd be balls deep, cumming so deeply inside between your soaking folds.

But, somehow balancing here, right on the edge with the concealed yet semi-public nature of this encounter knowing there were dozens of others on the other side of the door, unaware you were about to make each another cum in each other's pants made it all the more sexy, all the more fun.

"This is doing something to me..." Kento groaned in your ear. "I'm not gonna, fuck, I'm not gonna last, babe..."

"You can cum, baby..." You whispered, gently licking a stripe up his neck which he answered with a more bruising grip on your ass. "Just want you to feel so good..."

"Fuck, fuck..." He breathed, thrusting against you with more enthusiasm. "You're, fuck...so fucking hot..."

"So are you..." You bite your lip, letting him hear every breathy pant in his ear, all the cute sounds, just for him. "Fuck, you have no idea, Kento..."

"Baby...Oh, God, you...I'm so close to cumming, fuck, I'm gonna lose it, I'm gonna-"

And then a sound halfway between a groan and a whimper ripped from his throat, he frantically leaned in, using your soft mouth to absorb his cry, his lips smashed against yours as he couldn't help but hump against you a few more times, chasing that fleeting feeling, so warm and cozy as his cum dribbled incessantly from his cock, the soreness in your clit still ever present as you felt the wetness only gently oozing against the fabric barrier, longing for it to be deep inside you instead.

"Fuck I'm... I'm so so sorry..." Kento muttered, realizing he fucked up, his now soiled pants with a damning wet spot in front and boxers full of jizz. "I'm so sorry, I-..."

You cut off his apology with another kiss. He sighed in tender relief, his hand smoothing over the surface of your hair as he kissed you back. This kiss felt more honest than the others, with the blinders of lust lowered, this nonverbal assurance that you liked him, and he liked you every bit as much as he did before, during, and after you started.

"It's okay, Kento." You squish your nose against his, infinite time being born between you as you got lost in his eyes.

His thumb traced a soft heart shape into the small patch of skin exposed between your leggings and your sweater. "I didn't make you cum, and I feel bad."

"Hm..." You hummed, a playful edge in your tone. "Well, all the more reason for us to call it and go home early, right?"

Kento warmed up immediately, not missing the implication in your tone, a fuzzy and affectionate sensation up his spine at your use of "us" and "home."

"I live just down the block." He offered shyly. "If you wanna come over."

You kiss him again before you answer his question. "I'd love to, Kento."

And so, everyone at the party was bewildered when the door suddenly burst open (based on the sounds coming from behind it, they let you guys have longer than 7 minutes), and you stayed in front of Kento, shielding his soiled pants, grabbing your coats, your purse, and zipping out the door without another word.

Needless to say, the passion that night didn't stop at the party and burned well into the early hours of Christmas morning in Kento's twin sized bed.

A new notification graced your friends' Facebook feeds just weeks later to their utter surprise with your name next to his:

in a relationship.

The rest became history after that. 💕

[profeyandere]

𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐓. ─── ☾ 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ ʙᴀɪʟᴇʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.4ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜰɪʏᴇʀᴏ ᴛɪɢᴇʟᴀᴀʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: "ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ" ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ, ꜰɪʏᴇʀᴏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴄʀᴏᴡ, ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The Scarecrow felt too lost since your arrival in the group. You were like a light of hope for Dorothy, like an older sister she would follow to the end of the world with your loving and sweet attitude that helped her understand that new world a little better; you were the heart the Tin Man needed to understand the feelings of others, perhaps in a somewhat questionable way because you gave him little taps where the feeling was supposed to reside; you were the bravery the Lion needed to face the Wicked Witch every time it was necessary, also showing with her the kindness you always offered Dorothy; and you were the brain he needed to act according to the situation. You were what each of them was missing, but above all, you were the reason he felt a great warmth in his chest when he was not really burning; he had already suffered that situation with the witch, so it wasn’t a truly new sensation, but deep down it was because he wasn’t burning at those moments. When his bluish eyes stopped on your friendly face, always smiling even in the most difficult or intense moments, he could feel that deep warmth that seemed to spread all over his body and caused a strange tingling in his stomach; as mentioned, that was strange and new to him, so he preferred not to question these sensations.

"Are you alright?"

Your sweet voice made his thoughts shift, making him turn his neck to see your figure slowly emerging from the shadows, joining him where the yellow brick road lay, which would guide you to the Emerald City, where you hoped to find answers and get the wishes that the wizard was supposed to fulfil. But as soon as he saw you, he again felt that burning in his chest.

"Of course, I’m fine," he affirmed quickly, although his head turned back to the front, to the road, leaving you again with that feeling of distress that reflected your concern and had appeared the very instant you met him for the first time with Dorothy. "Do you need some stuffing for the fire?"

His question caught you by surprise, but you simply shook your head and approached him until you were standing by his side. Somehow, his presence calmed you and made you smile in ways you didn’t expect, because of how familiar he was, how close he seemed, and how warm he appeared.

"No, you know we manage just fine with some twigs and the stones from the road," you said, wanting to calm whatever fear he might have had about seeing his straw stuffing burned in the fire to keep them warm during the nights as they headed toward their destination. "I don’t know how close you are to the others, but I’ve noticed that you avoid my company more than I would’ve thought."

Your statement hit him hard. It was true, he had kept his distance from you in an attempt to make that feeling of warmth fade at some point while you were out of reach, but whenever he saw you or you were closer to him, it came back stronger, to the point of making him think that only putting distance between you would make that feeling fade. But what he didn’t know was that you had felt something similar, not exactly the same, but similar, and you had chosen not to create that distance in an attempt to stay close to something so familiar in him.

And he knew you didn’t deserve such bad treatment from him, so unpleasant or rude, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to understand what was happening to him before acting without reasoning.

"I’m missing a brain, I don’t have one, but sometimes I think I don’t have a heart either because I don’t understand what I feel," he explained, placing his fabric hand over his chest, where his heart was beating strongly and quickly, the only truly human part in his being. "There’s something in my heart that warms with your presence, with your closeness, and I feel like I’m burning. And you know that a scarecrow when it burns… Well, it burns."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the end of his explanation, nodding your head slightly before looking at his chest, his jacket more specifically. That emerald green colour you had seen before, and those golden ornaments that decorated the chest, back, and shoulders, you had seen them too, specifically in the same pattern, on another person, in the wardrobe of a student’s room at Shiz; that garment made you sigh for the memories that came to your mind because of it, and maybe that was why you wished to be so close to the Scarecrow.

"Of course, you’d burn," you agreed with him, lifting your gaze to see his bluish eyes still fixed on his chest as one of your hands, unconsciously, was already on his hand, feeling the rough fabric that could have been a potato sack, so different from what Fiyero’s skin was like. "You remind me a lot of him."

The Scarecrow looked at you with confusion, slightly furrowing his brow, and as soon as he saw your eyes slightly teary, he knew something had been troubling you for a long time; the pain you showed was unusual, and he was deeply worried about those feelings you had. Your smile still remained, but it was trembling, while your hand seemed to want to grab his as if searching for some sort of comfort in his presence, a comfort that perhaps no one else in the group could give you except him because it seemed that in him you were looking for your love.

"Who do I remind you of?" He dared to ask, making you take all the air you could before slowly letting it out as you spoke.

— Fiyero, my Fiyero.

What he hadn’t thought about was that you were suffering from the loss of someone for whom you had felt something similar to what he felt for you, but whose feelings you already knew and could identify, not like him. You weren’t scared of that, but the truth was that you had to focus on your duty, on the only task you had set for yourself, before doing anything stupid or getting your hopes up for something that wasn’t real. That was why you had avoided being close to him in some way when you first met. Fiyero left without saying anything the next morning after Elphaba was declared a public enemy across all of Oz. You saw huge posters, banners, and statues of her figure burning in just the span of a night, and Fiyero wanted to go after her, rescue her, and maybe help her escape to a place where she wouldn’t suffer any harm, and he could return to you. But you had to be stubborn and ask him to take you with him. You asked him to call you before he left so you could accompany him and help him, to protect and care for him while you searched for Elphaba, and that didn’t fit into his plans; Fiyero didn’t want you to be in danger. You woke up completely alone, in a university where all the students were terrified, and your boyfriend had gone off to find the one person who could explain what had happened and possibly fix all the turmoil that had been caused in Oz.

"It must’ve been someone very important to you," murmured the Scarecrow, without pulling away from him, without distancing himself from you either, even if his chest was on fire.

You nodded slowly and watched as he slid his fabric hand so your hand could rest on his chest, where you could feel that very particular heartbeat that made your tears fall. Anyone could have called you exaggerated or could have said you were crazy for recognizing the heartbeat of a person when they were supposed to all beat the same, but only one beat with such strength and speed when you were near.

"Tell me it’s you, please…"

Your voice, pleading and soft, touched a sensitive chord in the Scarecrow, one of many he had. You had hope that he was Fiyero, that he was the person you had been looking for, the one you would have hugged during the nights as you headed to the Emerald City, the one you would have kissed like in fairy tales to see if the spell would break with a true love’s kiss, the one you had been loving for so long. You had assumed it. No one danced and sang like that if it wasn’t him, no one did that leg play in such a funny way if it wasn’t him, no one was as fun as he was, and definitely, no one could match his way of being or resemble him in the slightest if it wasn’t him; you had your hopes based on the Scarecrow’s actions, and you just prayed that it was him.

"What if you’re wrong?"

His question didn’t go unnoticed, and you knew perfectly well that was an option. But you knew it, you felt it in your heart, in his presence, in everything; it was him, only him, just with a different body and with his mind a little altered. Literally.

"Let’s find out, together," you proposed, standing on your tiptoes to gently kiss his lips, or at least where they should’ve been.

Of course, it wasn’t a kiss like the ones you had shared with Fiyero. The Scarecrow was rough and dry, and Fiyero was soft, warm, and tender, but that didn’t stop your hope from flaring up with more strength, and you from feeling like you were burning when he gently brushed your waist with one of his hands in an attempt to hold you, just as he felt himself burning while the reflection of different flashes seemed to pass before his eyes, where you were always there. Your smile, your voice, the way your eyes closed when you laughed, the way you held his hand, how you hugged him in the afternoons while you watched the sunset from one of your rooms; at every moment, there you were, with him. The way you stumbled sometimes when you danced together was endearing, at least the situation always helped him to have you back in his arms, just like now.

The Scarecrow didn’t know where all these images had come from, but he knew they weren’t a coincidence or hallucination because he felt that he had missed you, longed for you, and wanted to hold you in his arms over and over again.

Dorothy, who had been watching your interaction from the moment you had left the group, slowly removed her hands from her eyes so she could see how you pulled back after your kiss, which she had wanted to avoid seeing to give you both the moment of intimacy you seemed to need. For a moment, both of you remained completely still, just looking at each other while small shy smiles appeared on your respective faces, but you were surprised when you saw the Scarecrow’s arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground, hugging you against him with all his strength so you wouldn’t escape, to the point that the girl thought he was trying to hide you in his stuffing, but hearing your laughter alongside his filled the young girl with surprise. Toto, who was also observing the scene, wagged his tail quickly as if sharing the happiness you were both exploding with.

At that moment, while she saw you both embrace joyfully under the moonlight, spinning like two lovers that you really were, Dorothy knew it wasn’t the brain the Scarecrow lacked, but his memories. The body wouldn’t be right, but his memories seemed to have been buried among so much straw, memories of you, of his past, of your past together, and now it seemed his wish had been fulfilled without the need for the Wizard of Oz to operate on him.

— It’s me, my love.

[angelixxsweetheart]

jinx being a munch and cumming in her mouth please i’m so desperate

"Taste so good"- Jinx x fem!reader

NSFW ahead!

men and minors dni

warnings: Jinx being a munch and pretty much pussy drunk (obviously), oral (receiving), praise (with a hint of degradation), light spanking

You dont know for how long youve been laying on the bed. You stopped counting after your third orgasm. And here you were, probably have been for hours, your girlfriend with her electric blue hair busy feasting and eating out your pussy, as if it was her very last meal on earth.

Her pale hands were holding down your hips, pressing you hard against the bed with her long colorful nails lightly digging into the flesh of your thigh while you were trying so hard to not move them and grind against her face. Even if you knew you werent even capable of resisting Jinxs strength.

"Ah-ah! Jinx.." You were a moaning mess, have been a moaning mess for the last hour or so, your girlfriend looking at you with her intense pink eyes as she simply carried on lapping on your cunt. Her tongue teased over your wet hole, lapping at the taste of your juices before wandering up your slit and teasing the sensitive flesh of your clit. "Tastes so good" A light groan left her lips at the taste of you, the vibration of the sound adding to the pleasure.

Your eyes pressed closed with the feeling filling you up, back lightly arching off the bed as Jinx only shoved you back into her face again. Then a light slap was delivered right against your thigh, a gasp leaving your lips. "Youre staying here" She almost growled, her tongue diving into once more to eat out your pussy like a starving man.

You can feel the tension in your lower stomach growing again while Jinxs lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it as if her life depended on it before letting it go with a pop. She could spend hours like this, just squeezing her head between your thighs and eat out your pussy while youre a moaning mess. While your her mess and hers alone.

But especially ever since that one time you were both in the very same position, with her tongue deep inside you and fucking you stupid while she sometimes teasingly sucked and nibbles on your clit. She drove you over the edge so hard you ended up squirting right into her mouth. Both of you were suprised, to say the least. "I didnt know you could do that" Jinx had muttered with a cocky smirk on her lips after she had helped you riding out your intense orgasm. And ever since then she had made it her mission to make you cum like that whenever she fucked you.

And here you were again, you could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly as your blue haired girlfriend was skillfully lapping on your clit. She moved her tongue over the bud, you arched your back in response as your fingers dug deep into the bedsheets. "Fuck.." You were a moaning mesd, whimpers filling the room next to the lewd sounds of Jinxs tongue against and inside your pussy and the occasional hums or praises from your girlfriend. "Look at you, such a good slut for me, arent ya toots?" She grinned against your folds before continuing to plunge into your hole.

She could stare at you forever, get lost in your taste and the way your thighs were fighting against her harsh grip to lock her head between them. "Ah-ah..Jinx! Im gonna-!" You chanted out, your noises like a melody, like her favorite song as she stared at your fucked out face while you announced your climax. She only moved her tongue to swirl over you clit again before plunging it into your cunt and feeling your walls tighten against the soft muscle.

Your hips lightly thrusted against her face, unable to fully move them as she held an iron grip on them and her nails were digging into your skin. The coil suddenly snapped and with a loud moan, you came right into her mouth. Jinx moaned out at the taste of your cum squirting into her, filling her mouth as she could almost easily cum herself just by watching you. It was such a sight to see, your legs spread and hands digging into the sheets or your bed as you threw your head back.

Jinx helped you ride out your orgasm, her tongue slowing down until your sounds grew quieter. One final lap against your sensitive folds and she gently massaged the skin of your thighs and hips, bruised by her long nails. Soft and sweet kisses were planted on your inner thighs before she moved up to rest on your bare chest. "Did so good for me, toots" She praised you in her raspy voice, a smile on her lips while feeling the still rapid beating of your heart. Jinx was happy. She fulfilled her mission, made you squirt again and this time right into her mouth. Your hands found her shoulders and you held her close, calming down from the intense orgasm you had just experienced.

[babyboy555777]

3 and then some~ Rafe and Barry

Summary~ you make a proposal to Rafe and Barry. Telling them one of your wishes one late night at a kook party held at Rafe's house.

CW~ Threesome, light name calling, mxm kissing, eating out, unprotected sex, rough rafe, soft barry. (Should be all)

~rafe! x barry! x female reader!~

You, Rafe, and Barry had always been somewhat close. Well, whenever Rafe and Barry actually got on decent terms again. It was always the three of you hanging out at Rafe’s house. Them doing drugs and you sitting back watching them snort lines off the table. Barry always came to Rafe’s party as 1. A supplier of course. 2. As a friend of yours and his. And 3. Well simply because he filled the empty air in the parties and made it all the more fun.

You and Rafe, like any other day before a party, drove to Barry’s to talk with him about what drugs he should bring. You laid on Barry’s couch legs propped up onto the back scrolling on your phone as they talked. “Some pot of course. Mostly sell it outside because last time people started smoking that shit in the house.” Rafe leaned back into the chair spreading his legs covering his mouth with his hand.

“I don’t know how much though I guess leave it up to you.” Rafe spoke up again. “As for the powder. Just for us to carry around. Sell it at the table and watch them do it like always. We don’t need people doing dumb shit with it.” Barry nodded his head at Rafe’s words. “I got it man don’t worry. We do this every time I don’t see why you still drive over here man.” Barry huffed and shook his head.

You looked from your phone looking at them both. “Both of you stress each other the hell out. It’s so unbelievable” you chuckled at your own words and shook your head going back to your phone. “Oh, now princess pipes up. Didn’t even talk the whole 20 minutes you’ve been here.” Barry rolls his eyes, and you do the same.

“Oh, bite me I’m just bored. Plus, Rafe told me not to chime in this time.” Rafe nodded his head with a slight smirk appearing on his lips. “Yeah, well that I did. I don’t need to be clouding my head with that blabber mouth running.”

“Oh, you can bite me too Cameron.” You rolled your eyes getting back onto the phone. He let out a sigh standing up from his seat walking over to you. “Come on don’t be that way.” He looked down at you. “Anyway, get up we got to go shopping.” He patted your thigh turning his head back to Barry.

“Call me if you need anything before tomorrow.” Barry nodded his head dabbing up Rafe. You got off the couch walking over to Barry giving him a hug from the side. “See you tomorrow night. Let us know when you’re on the way over.” He nodded his head once again and with that you and Rafe left to go shopping for tomorrow night's events.

You sat in Rafe's room curling your hair on his floor. The party is supposed to start at 8 p.m. you opened your phone checking the time. 7:15. You had enough time to finish your hair and get dressed up. You didn't want to overdo it, but you always wore a somewhat "casual" dress. Although Rafe and Barry always had a word or two to say to each other about what you were wearing.

As quickly as you could you finished up your makeup, since you got sidetracked by your phone, and started to undress and change into your black dress. It reached just below the mid of your thighs. Hugging your curves ever so tightly.

Once last look into the mirror you quickly grabbed your phone slipping it into your bra after checking the time 8:27 and heading downstairs. The house was already filled with many people taking shots, eating some of the snacks, and walking outside to smoke. You saw Rafe hanging in the living room with Topper and Kelce.

You placed yourself on the arm of the couch beside Rafe resting your arm behind his head. He placed his arm on your thigh continuing his conversation with Topper. You looked around the house as more people filled the area one by one.

It was all starting and you were ready. Each shot you poured down your throat the more you loosened up. Each one feeling more and more inviting as the burning liquid slid it's way down your throat.

Your phone buzzed in your bra. You pulled it out looking down at the text from Barry saying that he was finally here. You took your seltzer and made your way outside seeing his small black car parked on the curb. "Hey." You said excitedly making your way over to him.

He chuckled as he shoved his keys into his pocket walking closer to you as well. "Looks like little miss princess is already getting started." You chuckled pulling Barry into a hug. One of his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him. He took a long drag of the smell of your hair and soon released you.

Soon you, Rafe, and Barry all sat in the living room talking with anyone who had sat down. They did their sells, Barry occasionally walking outside to sell some one the pot he had brought with him, and Rafe stayed in the living room with you as he watched person after person snort a line.

Growing bored you made your way upstairs to Rafe's room having an idea of a lifetime. You pulled your phone out of your bra once again and opened up the group chat with the three of you. "You guys come upstairs to Rafe's room when you have the chance." you hit send and sat down on the chair at the desk waiting for them both.

Rafe and Barry both saw the text looking at each other from across the room. A slight nod from both of them and they made their way up. Rafe opened the door slowly with Barry walking behind him. You smiled at them gesturing them take a seat on the bed.

They sat side by side knees touching each other, both looking at you. "I want to propose something. And neither of you have to agree right now or agree at all really. We don't have to do it."

They both looked at you confused knowing you there was no telling what words would fall out of your mouth next. Barry nodded his head letting you go on. "I want to..." You tried to find the words and also tried to think if you should just straight up say it or lead into it. "I want to have a threesome with you two."

Both of their eyes widened a little bit. Rafe soon chuckled. "I'm sorry run that back." He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows. "I want to have a threesome. With you guys. I've literally thought about it for so long and I don't know I just can't keep it in."

You sighed. "I can't even stop thinking about it. Every time the three of us are together, I want nothing more than this." Barry shook his head, and a chuckled snort left him. "Barry I'm being serious."

You sighed once more. "It's not even drunk thoughts, okay? I truly want this and like I said neither of you have to do it." Rafe and Barry paused looking at you. Rafe looked you up and down biting his lower lip. Barry stared at you simply shocked. "Yeah, I'll do it why not?"

Barry turned to Rafe. "Really?" He cocked his head. "We've all been friends long enough and I mean who are we if we both lie saying we haven't wanted her for so long. Come on Barry."

A slight blush appeared on your face and Rafe's words slipped his mouth. Barry nodded his head. "Okay yeah. I'll do it." He looked back at you and so did Rafe. their stares felt like hungry predators ready to pounce. Their eyes had delighted, and both of them started to breath heavily.

"Tonight?" You said standing up. "I mean it's late and not like it really matters right?" Barry and Rafe nodded their heads saying they'd do it now. Their stares sent a cold shiver down your spine making you want to crawl out of your skin. You turned to Barry moving your hair out of the way. "Unzip me please."

He brought his hands up slowly sliding the black zipper down your back watching as the tight dress now lost it's shape. You slipped the straps off your shoulders slowly letting the dress fall to the floor exposing your back to the both of them. Your black lingerie with lace laid still on your body.

You walked away from the dress standing between them. They both moved making room for you to sit in the middle of them on the bed. You sat down placing a hand on each of their thighs.

You turned to Rafe, then Barry, then back to Rafe. You slowly leaned in connecting your lips with his. In an instant he grabbed the bottom of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss.

Barry watched as you and Rafe made out. You slipped your hand up and down Barry's leg soon making your way over to his now showing budge. Your hands slowly rubbed through the fabric of his shorts making him throw his head back letting out a small groan.

You pulled back from Rafe giving him one last peck before turning to Barry. He pulled you in the same as Rafe did kissing you ever so softly. You rubbed Rafe's leg up and down earning a sigh from him.

Rafe moved closer to you planting small kisses on your shoulders. He moved your bra strap down off your collarbone soon moving in closer to your neck leaving small love bites below your ear.

You groaned into Barrys mouth making you move your head back releasing the kiss from him. Barry did the same as Rafe making his way to your neck leaving the same but also different bites. You bit your lip holding back a moan as the two fought at war over your neck.

You grabbed them both removing them both from you. Rafe's hands roamed your waist. As Barry looked his now formed bites on your neck. You scooted back onto the bed and both of them looked back at you.

"You two." Barry and Rafe looked at each other confused. "Kiss." They looked shocked and could barely form words. "Come on like you guys don't already think about it." You chuckled.

They looked at each other a moment and nodded their heads scooting closer to each other. Neither of them had done this before, and truly they were nervous. Both of them leaned in grabbing each other's face with one hand. Barry slowly closed the kiss making their lips connect.

At first, they were both hesitant to even go but soon enough they started. Their lips moving at a slow pace. Rafe pulled Barry in even more making them deepen the kiss. You truly bit your lip at the sight of them.

You leaned back taking in the sight of them. Each of them hungrily fighting for the next move. You moved closer pulling them apart to take off their shirts as swiftly as possible. "Eager are we princess." Barry chuckled.

"Shut it." you huffed out. You pulled them further onto the bed sitting on your knees between the two of them not sure of what to do. Rafe and Barry smirked at each other as they started to roam your body with their hands.

Rafe pulled your back closer to his chest. He quickly unclasped your bra letting it fall of your shoulders just like the dress did moments ago. “You don’t need this.” He whispered in your ear.

Barry moved your legs straight helping you slide off your underwear. “Or these.” Suddenly you had felt so exposed in front of the two men. Heat rose up your body to your face. “Come on darling don’t get so nervous now. Isn’t this what you always dreamed about?” Rafe said as his hands moved up and down your arms.

It all did feel like a dream. The absolute best dream you could ever have. You truly prayed this was real. You shut your eyes tight as Barry ran his hands up and down your legs. “Looks like she’s already falling weak.” Barry said with a smirk planted on his lips.

Drew chuckled lightly in your ear. His hands finally made their way to your breast slowly massaging them in his hands. “God who knew you wanted us so bad. And here we thought we’d never have you like such a mess.” Rafe said before planting small kisses on the back of your neck.

Barry bent down leaning closer to your cunt. His breath hitting your entrance caused you to shift. Barry held your legs open looking up at you and your now opened eyes. “Fuck.” You said quietly biting your lip at the sight of him. He planted kisses all over your thighs as he held your legs open.

“God and to think we’d be so lucky to have her all for us right country club.” Rafe chuckled at the words that left Barry’s mouth but agreed. “Can’t believe she didn’t give us this idea sooner. And who would have thought she’d be so wet at the sight of us making out.”

Barry chuckled back leaning further toward your cunt. He placed a small kiss on your clit making you shutter and buckle your hips. You were at a loss for words. The image of Barry between your legs and Rafe gripping your chest leaving kissing all over your shoulders and neck. It was all so much.

“Fuck.” Barry groaned before flicking his tongue all around. Your head fell back into Rafe’s shoulder taking in a gasp of air. Rafe turned your face to him slowly making out with you as Barry’s tongue worked like magic. You moaned lightly in Rafe’s mouth.

Barry’s mouth moved at such a heavenly speed. Sucking on your clit and moving his tongue up and down and in circles. He pulled away making you pull back from Rafe’s now plumped lips.

Barry then soon slid two fingers in you moving in and out making you throw your head back again. Rafe took this as an opportunity to massage your clit. Moving his fingers in circles. listening to your moans in his ears made his dick rise even more. You could feel his boner poking you in the back making you want so much more than was being offered. You felt so needy and greedy with these men. God you just wanted so much more.

“She’s falling apart.” Rafe chuckled as he looked at you. Not a single word left your lips. Moan after moan erupted through the air making them both turned on so much more. “Let me get a taste hmmm.” Rafe slowly moved you off his chest replacing himself with Barry.

He leaned down just as Barry did and immediately got to work moving his tongue as best as he could. The newfound pleasure made it hard for you to even be reasonable at this moment. Your vision blurred and your mind was fuzzy. You grabbed Barry’s face pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Fuck me.” You groaned out against his lips. You could feel Rafe smirk against your folds as the words left your mouth. Soon he stopped his movements getting off the bed. He nodded at Barry to do the same. Both of them stripping down to nothing. They had you in awe.

Both of them side by side rocked your world. They fit so well together, and they couldn’t help but torment you. They both climbed back on the bed looking at just each other. They moved in close like they had did previously slowly leaning into yet another kiss. All you could do was watch as each one fought for dominance.

Their heads turning every so often not moving from each other. Lips now swollen and hungry for more. Barry was the first to pull away and Rafe patted Barry’s face as a way to say good job.

Both of them smirked before crawling on each side of you. "All fours now." Rafe said behind you. you obeyed throwing your ass in the air and your forearms resting in front of Barry's knees. Both of them stoked themselves at the sight of you.

"Fuck." Rafe grunted out. He moved his hands over your hips slightly gripping them. You took a hold of Barry's dick swirling your tongue around the tip making. He grabbed all of your hair bunching it up into a makeshift ponytail.

Rafe soon aligned his rock-hard cock to your folds. Swiping his tip up and down your folds making you moan on Barry's cock as you bobbed your head up and down.

Without warning Rafe slammed into you filling you up with cock make you let out a loud yelp. "Fuck." you huffed out. Barry grabbed your chin making you look up at him. He slowly slid his cock in and out of your mouth. Rafe continued his movements in the back.

Thrusting faster and harder than Barry was on the other side. "So fucking tight. Shit Barry you have to feel her." Rafe grunted as he gripped your hips harder leaving marks. Barry removed his cock from your mouth letting you sit up more in the bed.

With a few more hard trust and loud moans escaping your lips he pulled out switching places with Barry. Rafe planted his hips in front of you. With your shaky hands you reached for his cock sliding it in your mouth and stroking the rest with what couldn't fit.

Barry was gentler with you. He held your hips just as Rafe did but his stokes where slow at first not trying to hurt you. You hummed against Rafe making him bite his lip and throw his head back. "Fuck good girl." He smirked looking down at you.

"Faster Barry." You looked behind you as Barry thrusted in and out of you. He gave a slight nod adjusting himself before pushing further into you at a faster pace almost reaching Rafe's.

Everyone in the room panted and moaned. The room feeling steamy and almost suffocating in a good way. Soon you could feel your high reaching its peak. Barry felt your walls clench around his cock making his shut his eyes muttering words to himself.

You let out a gospel like moan as Barry slammed into you once more making all your walls crumble. He pulled out quickly and Rafe moved himself from your mouth both moving off the bed. Quickly you followed getting on your knees in front of them.

You grabbed both their cocks stroking them at a fast pace. Both of them a moaning and grunting mess as they too were reaching their high. "Fuck, come on baby." Rafe moaned out grabbing your hair.

Barry continued to shut his eyes tightly as he felt himself building up. Soon both of them shot their hot liquid onto your chest. Both of them grunting and breathing heavily looking down at you.

Rafe grabbed the back of your neck pulling you into a sloppy kiss against his swollen pink lips. After he pulled away Barry did the same. He pushed the hair from your face and quickly grabbed his shirt off the ground wiping you off. Rafe grabbed his shirt handing it over to you to slip on.

Both of them slipped their shorts back on as you sat down on the edge of the bed. "Fuck who would have known country club?" Barry chuckled at Rafe. "Who knew this be the best night of my fucking life. Fuck the party were staying up here the rest of the night."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hehe I had so much fun writing this hope you enjoyed

[writerfromshikahr]

I know I said I was on a break, but clearly I lie. A pre relationship piece between Lucanis and Rook. You so know this man would read romance novels to Rook whenever he could.

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Hold Onto - Lucanis X Rook

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The quiet of the Lighthouse was rare, but Rook relished it. Most of the companions had retired to their rooms or drifted to wherever they found peace. She had intended to go for a stroll in the courtyard, maybe scritch Assan behind the ears, but when she walked into the central room—she froze.

Lucanis was there, stretched out in one of the chairs, a book balanced in his hands. She didn’t mean to linger, but the sight of him so relaxed, his brow furrowed in concentration, caught her off guard. It wasn’t until she saw the title that she couldn’t resist herself.

“A romance novel?” she said, her voice laced with teasing amusement.

He looked up, unperturbed, marking his place with a finger. “I enjoy a good story. And romance is… versatile. There's always something worth considering.”

She walked closer, arms crossed, her light brown eyes dancing with mischief. “I thought you’d be reading something darker. Tragedy, maybe. Drama. But romance? What’s next? Poetry?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said dryly, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, this is a classic.”

Rook tilted her head, trying to glimpse the title again, but Lucanis lifted the book higher, out of her line of sight. “Oh no, you’re not getting away with that. What’s it about?”

“It’s about love,” he replied simply, his tone frustratingly unreadable.

She rolled her eyes and sank into the chair opposite him. “I figured that much, you cryptic bastard. But what kind of love? Is it sweeping and grand? Tragic and unfulfilled? Come on, give me something.”

Lucanis studied her momentarily, clearly debating whether to indulge her curiosity. With a quiet sigh, he glanced at the page, then read aloud, his voice low and steady:

“In her eyes, he saw everything he’d lost, everything he feared to want again. And yet, against reason, against the endless war in his own heart, he found himself reaching out—not to hold her, but to anchor himself in the storm she had become. For even the fiercest of storms can bring life, can promise something new.”

Rook blinked, her teasing smile softening. For a moment, she forgot to respond, caught in the unexpected tenderness of his words. “That’s… beautiful,” she said quietly.

Lucanis shrugged, but there was a rare warmth in his expression, his eyes never leaving the page. “It’s the way it’s written. Something about it stays with you.”

Rook leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You like stories that make you feel something, don’t you?”

“And you don’t?” he countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I do. But I lean more toward epics—heroic sagas, impossible odds, and a little bit of heartbreak. There’s something satisfying about seeing the underdog rise.”

“Predictable,” he teased, closing the book with a quiet snap. “The scrappy rogue loves the hero who fights against the impossible.”

“And the Antivan assassin loves the storm that promises something new?” she shot back, smirking.

Lucanis didn’t respond right away; instead, he set the book aside and met her gaze with that unreadable intensity she was beginning to know well. “We all want something to hold onto, Rook. Even in stories.”

She swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of his words. The room was quiet again, save for the distant hum of the Fade beyond their sanctuary.

After a moment, she spoke, her voice softer now. “You’ll have to lend me that book when you’re done.”

Lucanis’s smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. “Finish your epic first. Then we’ll see.”

Rook laughed quietly, shaking her head, but there was a warmth in her chest that lingered long after the moment passed. For someone so guarded, Lucanis had a way of letting his walls slip in the most unexpected ways—and she found herself wanting to know every story that resonated with him, one passage at a time.

[psychoticallykind]

Share with me?

This was my first attempt at writing for day 20 (Baking) of Jegumas, but the story got away from me so I ended up doing something different. However, I actually really like it so I finished it today and thought I would share.

@noblehouseofgay because I think you'll like it.

2,209 words

Trigger Warning: Dysphoria, Dysphoric thoughts

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Regulus forced himself to take a deep breath. “It’s fine,” he insisted to the empty bathroom. “I’m fine. It was a dumb comment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His reflection blinked back tears, long black lashes and flushed skin. But not crying. Not quite, not over this. It wasn’t worth it. He was better than that.

“I don’t care.” Regulus took another deep breath. “I don’t. It doesn’t matter what they think. I don’t care, I’m fine, it’s fine.”

There was a light knock on the door, and panic spiked through his chest. “It’s occupied.”

“I know, love. Are you okay in there?”

Oh. Right.

Of course, James had found him.

Regulus swallowed, trying to sound as steady as possible. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” James replied. “I was just checking, you’ve been missing for a while.”

The gentle tone threatened to undo all of his hard work - suppress, deny, refuse to feel it. Refuse to react.

James was making it very hard to not feel anything.

“I just said I’m fine,” Regulus snapped, and immediately regretted it. He softened his tone. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

One deep breath. Two.

“That’s okay, love. Take your time, I’m okay to wait.”

Take your time.

Regulus pressed his hands over his eyes. He was not going to cry. Not here, not at some stupid office party. He would not. It was simply not an option, no matter how irritatingly compassionate James sounded right now.

He could get through this. He would smile and talk and be what he needed to be. That was fine. He could do that.

One deep breath. Two. Three.

Four and five, for good measure.

Regulus checked his reflection. He looked - well, he still looked a little upset. But no one would be able to tell unless they knew him and were looking for it, which these people didn’t and wouldn’t.

James was standing against the opposite wall when Regulus opened the door. Dark curls and an emerald green that looked nice on his skin tone. Nothing compared to a deep red, but he’d wanted to match with Regulus tonight.

“Hey,” James greeted him, and Regulus was not going to cry.

“I’m not crying,” he informed his boyfriend.

James nodded, giving Regulus a gentle smile. “I see that.”

And Regulus thought he probably did. James always saw him better than he was supposed to - saw past glares and smiles and posture. Pandora had suggested he was an empath, and Regulus had been slightly inclined to agree.

“I just need to get through the next two hours,” Regulus said, locking everything inside of him into place. “And then we can go home.”

“We don’t need to stay if you don’t want to,” James said softly. Not implying, but not moving from his spot, either.

He was letting Regulus choose.

Regulus hesitated. “Are you sure? Won’t - don’t you have to stay? You own - it’s your company.”

“No one has to stay,” James denied, shaking his head. “It’s a party, Regulus, not a board meeting. Some people only came by for a few minutes. Some won’t come at all. We can leave whenever we want.”

Regulus took another deep breath to avoid feeling things.

James stepped forward, gently taking his hand. “What do you want to do?”

Well, he’d lasted a solid three minutes. Maybe.

“I want to go home,” Regulus admitted, squeezing James’s hand. “Please.”

“Do you want to go through the party to get our jackets or do you want to go the back way and sneak out?”

Regulus could look presentable in front of everyone. He could walk through the crowd and pretend to be okay.

But - well, he didn’t actually have to. Not with James. “I don’t want to go through the party.”

“Sounds great.” James pulled him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head before letting go.

Regulus couldn’t really help smiling as they separated, following James down the abandoned hallways until they reached the front.

James waved goodbye to the person manning the desk, and then they were outside. Regulus took another deep breath, letting the frigid air clear his head a little more.

James opened his door for him, and Regulus couldn’t help smiling as he got in the car.

Then they started driving, and James was humming along to the music, and it was all so safe.

It was safe, he was safe, and then he was crying, one hand pressed against his mouth and his expression turned to the window so that James wouldn’t see.

“Regulus?”

Regulus bit down hard on his lip.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Will you look at me?”

He shook his head, which was probably dumb. It wasn’t like he’d succeeded - James knew he was upset now.

“Alright, love. Can I pull over? What can I do?”

“Ignore it,” Regulus managed. He closed his eyes. “Ignore me. Don’t act like - just ignore me.”

He knew James would be making that face - the one that meant he hated listening but would do it anyway. He knew it, but didn’t let himself look.

James hated it when Regulus didn’t let him help. Absolutely despised it. But sometimes Regulus couldn’t let him help. He couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t stand letting anyone see him when he was falling apart.

“For how long?”

Forever, Regulus wanted to say. Let me deal with it on my own. Let me drown in it.

But that would be cruel, and he didn’t want to do that to James. So he settled. “Until we get home.”

Then, as an afterthought, “No speeding.”

The quiet grumble that earned him almost made him smile.

It took twenty minutes for them to get home. Twenty minutes for Regulus to be self-destructive - to say to himself all of the things he’d heard before.

It’s your own fault you feel this way.

You know you deserve it.

That’s why you won’t let him help.

If you don’t want to be a girl, you shouldn’t act like one.

You can’t keep crying over something so stupid.

Now he wants to help.

You made him leave the party.

You ruined his night.

You ruin everything, don’t you?

You’re never quite right. Always a little messed up.

Always a bother, a nuisance.

Always upset over something.

“We’re home.”

The words jolted Regulus out of his head for a second, and then James was out of the car. Seconds later, Regulus’s door was open.

James unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward to pick him up, holding him close to his chest. “I love you, and we’re home, so I’m allowed to tell you that now.”

And it felt so wrong. So wrong and jarring, because he didn’t deserve that. He was wrong, ruined, he was messed up, he messed everything up.

“I love you, you’re perfect.” James managed to close the car door and started walking, pressing a kiss to Regulus’s temple. “You make my life better just by being in it. My incredible boyfriend.”

Regulus flinched, hiding his expression against James’s chest. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” James asked, carrying him inside. “Not incredible? You’re definitely incredible. So smart and talented.”

Regulus shook his head, the words falling between them. “Not a real boy.”

James’s arms tightened around him for a moment, and then he set Regulus on the counter. “You’re wrong.”

Regulus looked down, his breath catching for a second. “I know.”

Wrong, wrong, all wrong.

“Not like that.” James tapped on his chin, gently urging him to look back up. “You’re perfect. The perfect boy, my perfect boyfriend. So handsome and clever and strong.”

Regulus shook his head. “I baked brownies.”

“I know.” James gently wiped at his cheeks, removing tears. “They were amazing, everyone loved them.”

“No, James,” Regulus insisted, stressing the words. “I baked brownies.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Like a girl.”

“Oh, love.” James tugged him forward, wrapping him up. “Baking doesn’t make you less of a boy. Nothing can, it’s impossible. You could bake brownies in a pink dress and heels wearing a full face of makeup, and you would still be a boy. Nothing can change that.”

Regulus sobbed quietly, shaking his head.

“One day,” James told him. “I’m going to marry you, and you’ll be my husband. And I’ll be the second-happiest guy in the world, because you’ll have to be the happiest. I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise.”

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

“You heard me.” James massaged the back of his head. “No one will be surprised, really. I talk about you all the time - my incredible boyfriend. I have like seven pictures of you on my desk - you know that, though, you’ve seen them.”

Regulus’s breath stuttered, and he held James tighter. “You can’t marry me.”

“Well, not if you don’t say yes,” James replied. “Which would be okay. There’s no obligation, you know, and we can talk about it beforehand. But I would love to, one day. If you’re okay with that.”

Regulus’s voice was small. “What if I’m not?”

“Then we won’t get married.” James ran a hand down his back with a quiet hum. “And we can be happy as we are. I love you regardless, Regulus.”

Dark thoughts tumbled around in his head, but he couldn't voice them. It would invalidate James, he couldn’t do that.

“What are you thinking?” James murmured.

“Bad things,” Regulus admitted.

“Share with me?”

“They’re bad,” he repeated. “You won’t like it.”

“Probably not,” James said agreeably. “But I love you, and I want to know.”

It took a few minutes. A few minutes of back-and-forth, debating with himself. Honesty wasn’t easy or kind, and Regulus wasn’t generally a fan of it.

But James was. He really was - Regulus had never met a more honest person in his life.

“I’m thinking that you love me regardless because you love everyone.”

The words were small. They stung, because it was true. James wasn’t gay - he was pansexual. He loved Regulus.

Regardless of whether he was a real boy or not.

He felt James’s breath catch. “Oh.”

Regulus winced. Maybe honesty had been the wrong choice.

“Okay. I - I need to look at you, love, sorry.” James urged him back, separating them so that he could meet Regulus’s eyes. “You’re right about me. I can love anyone, and I’m not denying that.”

Oh, that hurt, too. Regulus held his breath, eyes darting away from James and to the microwave instead.

“Uh-uh, look at me.”

Regulus bit his lip as he followed the instruction. His lungs were starting to burn.

“Do you remember when we met?” James asked. His hands moved to Regulus’s shoulders, massaging.

Regulus nodded, not trusting his voice just now.

“I didn’t know you were trans,” James pointed out, earnest. “I didn’t know when we met. I didn’t know when we started dating. I fell in love with you before I knew, Reg, you know that.” He traced along Regulus’s collarbone. “Breathe, Regulus.”

His whole body relaxed a bit as he listened, taking in a few deep breaths.

“I have always known you as a boy,” James reminded him quietly. “And I’ve never seen you as anything else.”

Regulus swallowed hard. “Promise?”

“I promise.” James traced his cheekbones, gently swiping over the skin. “Believe me?”

He took a deep breath. “I believe you.”

“Perfect.” James kissed his forehead. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s dumb,” Regulus mumbled, cheeks heating. “It was dumb.”

“Dumb or not, I need to know if I need to fire someone,” James replied.

“Don’t.” Regulus shook his head. “He didn’t know.”

James frowned a little. “Who?”

Regulus shrugged. “I don’t know. He had a bright green tie, looked terrible.”

“Oh, Timothy.” James’s frown grew. “What did he say?”

“He was eating a brownie,” Regulus explained. His voice faltered, but James was rubbing his shoulders again, and it helped. “And he said that when food tastes that good, you can tell a woman did the baking.”

It was a dumb comment. It wasn't targeted, or mean, or purposefully triggering.

But it so closely echoed the things Regulus had heard - had been forced to learn, to internalize. It was so close, and it had torn Regulus apart.

“That’s ridiculous,” James denied, adamant. “I’ll speak to him on Monday.”

“No, James -”

“I will, and I won’t bring up your name, but he needs to know he hurt someone with his thoughtless comments and he will know it,” James interrupted. “Okay?”

He could say no. Regulus knew that - he could say no, could ask James to drop it, and James would listen. He might not like it, but he’d listen.

But he kind of liked that James cared so much. He liked knowing James would defend him.

So Regulus nodded, pulling James forward into a brief kiss. It tasted like champagne and chocolate from earlier, and he was sure James could taste salt from all the crying. And then, when they separated, he whispered the word into James’s parted lips. “Okay.”

Three days later, Regulus received a handwritten apology letter and an apology basket from Timothy. It was addressed to ‘the guy who made the fantastic brownies’.