#bursts out of the invisible walls

[sekai-no-reita]

This evening is odd...

I just suddenly got this strongest urge to hug Reita.

Which....

is weird.

But if I could do anything I want rn, I'd just wanna hug him. Just hug and hold him tight.

I dunno what is going on...

[tonycries]

Government Hooker - T.F.

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N.  WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard. Set in the Brooklyn Babyverse.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall. 

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges. 

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room. 

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”. 

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer. 

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before. 

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.” 

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.” 

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him. 

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes. 

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive. 

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie. 

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder. 

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.  

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C’mon, didn’t I kill it out there?” 

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front. 

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes. 

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine. 

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.” 

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm. 

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate. 

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air. 

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.” 

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant. 

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room. 

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up. 

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances. 

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument. 

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant. 

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.” 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room. 

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit. 

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.” 

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties. 

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed. 

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor. 

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth. 

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it. 

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall. 

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core. 

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally. 

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth.. 

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy. 

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you. 

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack! 

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out- 

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek. 

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly. 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.” 

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard. 

And then you’re cumming. 

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face. 

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak. 

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out. 

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken. 

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same. 

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack. 

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything. 

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him. 

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background. 

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.” 

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more. 

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly. 

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head. 

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly. 

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening. 

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him. 

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut” 

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.”  breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air. 

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back. 

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him. 

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his. 

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow. 

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate. 

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.” 

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat. 

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.  

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out. 

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him. 

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me? 

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer. 

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack! 

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’  like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now. 

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by. 

Smack! 

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji. 

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric. 

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking. 

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.” 

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper. 

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete. 

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him,  you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?” 

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air. 

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table. 

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears. 

Genuine danger. 

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction. 

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time. 

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress.  But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up. 

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on. 

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for? 

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together. 

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges. 

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’” 

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs. 

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent. 

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke. 

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car. 

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision. 

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There. 

The door swings open. 

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun. 

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable. 

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement. 

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.” 

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now. 

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you. 

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.” 

You’re being pulled away before you know it. 

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away. 

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously. 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out. 

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs. 

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground. 

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

 For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over. 

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red. 

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious. 

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit. 

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever. 

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want. 

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji. 

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,”  you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod. 

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them. 

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight. 

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony. 

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-” 

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing. 

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.” 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You get caught by your brother in a make-out session with Mattheo.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x potter!Reader

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak tighter around himself and Ron as they crept down the dimly lit corridor. They were supposed to be pranking Draco, but Harry had gotten distracted when he saw two figures pressed close together near a shadowy alcove.

He squinted. Was that…? His heart dropped as the pieces clicked into place. You. And Mattheo Riddle. Kissing.

His stomach churned, and before he could stop himself, Harry threw off the cloak.

“What the—?!” he sputtered, his voice cracking.

You and Mattheo jolted apart, your face going beet red. Mattheo, on the other hand, just smirked, running a hand through his hair like this was all part of the plan.

“H-Harry! I—it's not—” you stammered, your words failing as your brother stared at you, wide-eyed and betrayed.

“WHAT ARE YOU—HOW DID THIS—” Harry’s voice was an octave too high. He pointed between you and Mattheo, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Mate, you didn’t know?” Ron asked, blinking in confusion. “I thought you knew.”

Harry whipped around, staring at Ron in disbelief. “You KNEW about this?!”

Ron scratched the back of his neck. “Er… yeah? Thought it was obvious.”

“OBVIOUS?!” Harry’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. He turned back to you, his voice taking on a melodramatic tone. “Mum and Dad are not going to like this. Not one bit.”

You bit your lip, glancing at Mattheo, who was still smirking like he had just won the Quidditch World Cup. “Er, Harry… they know.”

Harry froze, his expression collapsing into sheer horror. “They WHAT?! This is a betrayal of the highest order!”

You bite your lip, fighting off the embarrassment flooding your chest. “Harry, are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” His voice went impossibly higher, and his hands waved wildly in the air. “I knew it! I knew when you were put in Hufflepuff you’d be too naive! Too trusting!”

You crossed your arms, the sting of his words making you bristle. “Excuse me? Naïve? That’s a bit offensive, don’t you think? And can you please calm down? We’re not doing anything wrong!”

Harry threw his hands up dramatically. “Doing nothing wrong? With him?”

Mattheo’s grin only widened as he looked at Harry, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should. “Careful, Potter. You’ll burst a vein.”

Harry glared daggers at Mattheo, his fists clenched at his sides. "If anyone’s bursting a vein, it'll be you when I'm done with you, Riddle!"

You stepped forward, cutting off Harry before he can go any further, your own frustration bubbling up. "Harry, stop it!" you snapped, standing between the two of them. "I’m not some damsel you need to rescue! I can make my own choices!"

Harry faltered, looking at you like you’ve just slapped him. "But he’s—he’s Riddle! He’s trouble!"

Mattheo, still leaning casually against the wall, tilted his head slightly, the smirk never fully leaving his lips. "Potter, she’s a big girl. She can handle herself."

"Matt, don’t," you warned, shooting him a quick glare, before turning back to your brother. "Harry, we’ll figure this out. But you have to stop being so overdramatic about it."

Harry huffed, crossing his arms, muttering under his breath, "Overdramatic? I’m not being overdramatic..."

Ron piped up, "Mate, you just threw off an Invisibility Cloak and nearly exploded in the middle of a make-out session. Pretty sure that qualifies as overdramatic."

Harry glared at him, but Ron just shrugged.

[thebubblesareevil]

Only the best Kings wear pink! Pt 1

Pt 2

Danny had decided, inter-lair political party meeting briefings were a truly underutilized form of torture that he personally thought should be inflicted upon only the worst kinds of criminals; not your King.

Fright Knight disagreed.

At least he finally let him move around instead of suffering through forced resurrection via boredom (it’s happened before, not a fun meeting). That being said, he would admit to being a little distracted by all the servants rushing around frantically. It had even managed to distract Fright.

No one seemed panicked so clearly it wasn’t an attack, but what….

Danny felt someone staring at him. He covertly nodded to Fright to keep talking as he created an invisible clone to search for his stalker.

He didn’t have to look far, they weren’t hiding very well. Not 20 ft away a young ghost gawked at him from behind a column. She had her glowing blonde hair in 2 braided pigtails and her ragged dress looked like she came from one of the medieval lairs. Danny carefully kneeled down, trying to make himself look small as he tapped her on the shoulder.

The little girl spun around, clearly terrified at being caught. Danny gave her a soft smile.

“Please don’t eat me Mr Ghost King sir!!!” She cried out.

Danny snorted and burst out laughing. His booming laughter echoed though the castle walls causing many of the servants to pause in their search.

“Now why in the realms would you think I’m going to eat you?!” Danny asked though his chuckles. “You wouldn’t be more than a bite full at best.” He poked her sides causing her to giggle.

“Would too! I’m bigger the Sally!” She paused, rethinking her words. “But I’d taste quite foul! I would, I swear!”

Danny grinned turning to Fright Knight. The little ghost squeaked when she saw the Spirit of Halloween and backed into the King causing her to freeze.

Danny gently picked her up, cradling her in one arm. “Did you hear that Fright?! She said she’d taste foul!” He smirked “I suppose there’s only one thing to do then!”

Fright Knight eyed his King a bit warily, still not used to his antics. “Sire?”

Danny grinned, motioning to one of the nervous maids. “We‘ll have to sweeten her up!”

Miette bowed before her King, trying to hide her nervous glances at the girl.

“Miette! Would you be a dear and prepare some sweets and tea in the garden for my honored guest? Fright, will you be joining us?” Danny asked the startled Knight.

“As you wish my Liege, though…might I request some pumpkin pie?” He asked Miette.

The maid blinked at the request.

“Of course Sir Fright.” She answered a bit dazed.

“Wonderful! We’ll meet you in the garden after we swing by Spectre’s quarters.” He grinned down at the frightened ghost. “Every princess must look her best for afternoon tea after all!”

The little girl frowned. “But I’m not a princess?” She said, tilting her head.

“Of course you are! Every little girl is a princess! That’s just a fact of life.” Danny nodded solemnly.

“But we’re not alive?” She pouted “Mummy said so!”

Danny shrugged. “That doesn’t change much, I’m still alive after all so it still counts.” He said finally.

They stopped in front of two massive doors covered in random drawing. Danny knocked on the door. The little ghost shrunk back in Danny’s arms.

The door opened to reveal a young ghost, not much bigger than the one in his arms.

“Hey Ellie!” Danny grinned. “Do you have any princess dresses left or did you set them all on fire?”

Ellie groaned. “Lilac just restocked the closet. You’d think she’d learn by now.”

Danny grinned. “Perfect! Would you mind helping our guest into one of them? She’s joining us for tea!”

Ellie floated up to see the tiny ghost trying to make herself smaller in her dad’s arms.

“Oh? And who are you?” She asked curiously.

“Emma.” She squeaked. Ellie grinned.

“Alright Emma, how do you feel about pink?!”

———

A little while latter you could find the Ghost King: ruler of the infinite realms, Fright Knight: the most feared general of the Kings legion and little Emma: the little princess from 2 Lairs over (only on the 5th of each month); newly decked out in a glowing tiara and the frilliest pink dress Ellie could find (with no singes); all sitting in the Royal gardens in Phantoms keep debating the merits of pink sparkles vs rainbow glitter.

Her mother nearly wept in relief that her daughter was safe, though she was a bit dazed by what she was seeing.

“You must be Emma’s mum!” Danny grinned. “We were just finishing up afternoon tea.

Emma jumped from her seat and raced over to her mummy to tell her all about her day.

“I’m so sorry for my daughter’s intrusion, your majesty!” She cried out, fear outweighing shock as she quickly bowed.

“Nonsense!” Danny laughed, looking down at Emma. “You’re welcome here anytime Emma. After all, you never did tell me what happened to you Aunt Agatha.” He smiled “You’ll have to finish your story next time.”

Emma ran up to give Danny a hug, he happily picked her up and held the young ghost.

“Thank you for the tea and cakes Mr ghost king! Can I bring Beatrice next time? She’ll never believe me otherwise!”

Danny chuckled. “The more the merrier, though I suggest you give your mother some proper warning before you run off to strange lairs without permission.”

Emma pouted. “I promise!” She swore as Danny handed her to her mother.

Danny was a little sad to see the little girl go but he had plenty of work to do.

“Sire, shall we continue the briefing?” Fright Knight piped up.

Danny groan, Fright Knight grinned. (He liked his new king)

———

The next month, when the lairs lined up once more Danny was greeted with the grinning Emma, the frightened faces of at least 6 other little ghosts and the nervous form of Emma’s mother.

Danny grinned. “Miette!” He shouted behind him. “Can you bring some more tables to the gardens. It looks like we’re having a proper tea party this time!”

And so began to annual monthly tea party at Phantom’s keep.

(Lilac was so glad to see all the dresses she made put to good use)

[porcalinecunt]

boothill punishing reader for calling him ‘just a fucktoy’ so he turns them into one :3

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐘!

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ friendly banter often devolved into mean spirited teasing, but there’s a fine line that you regretfully cross. Or did you?

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — mean dom! boothill. window sex. degradation. overstimulation. humiliation kink. biting. dumbification(?)

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : ignore the fact that i forgot boothill cannot curse SHHHHH. but it’s finally done and im too tired to proofread this ;-;

friendly banter was a given in your relationship with boothill. you couldn’t help yourself to the free entertainment as the cyborg was forced to get creative with the troublesome filtering system that was installed in his mechanical body, much to his annoyance. 

every swear word he spat out, every nasty phrase that’d slip off his tongue would become the polor opposite. it’d make you chuckle a bit hearing him call you the sweetest names with reluctance in his voice. 

you on the other hand, often have a whole field day with it. spewing out sarcastic and maybe creative remarks just to rile him up even more, only to burst out laughing at his failed comebacks. it was a constant spit for spat that would last until one of you gave up and ended it with a soft make out session or cuddling in your shared bedroom. however, there’s an invisible line in the sand, one you wished you could’ve seen. 

another back and forth, like usual. as the more aggressive you got with boothill, so does your language. you teetered on the edge of your own teeth, slowing coming at his little fuck up’s like his heavily filtered system and his obnoxious munching of his own bullets. the ranger would shoot back with his own attempts, only passing off sarcastic and subtle remarks about that mouth of yours. the tension in the air only grew thicker and thicker before your words finally cut it in two. 

“I dunno why you should be talkin’ bootie, after all, you're just a fucktoy! ♡”

a cackle bursted from your lungs, as you tried to catch your breath. while you were stuck in a state of victory from having the last laugh, you didn’t quite catch the sudden silence that washed over the room until a chill shot at the back of your neck. turning your head, you were met with an unamused boothill, jaw clenched and eyes burning holes into your skull. your laugh diminished into tiny nervous sounds as the machine promptly marched his way to you, ignoring your babbles and apologies as your back pressed against the wall. you understood quickly that despite the unhinged nature of your verbal play fights, there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed. 

a raspy chuckle tickled your eardrums. “me? a fucktoy? now look who’s talkin’ sweet thing..” 

boothill, now wearing a hungry grin on his lips, promptly threw you over his shoulder with a harsh smack! on your ass. before you could protest, you were chucked onto the nearest soft furniture he saw, in this case being the couch. 

the window in front of it showing off a dazzling view of Penacony, the perfect place to show you off. it didn’t take long for your clothes to be torn clean off by his metal fingers and discarded on the floor while you whined loudly. something that warranted a palm over your pouty lips. 

“shh, now now doll..i don’t think fucktoys can speak. Now can they?” 

he spoke with faux sympathy traced in his tone, as you could only lie there helplessly while his cold hands traced your delicate flesh. boothill was an unpredictable man, some nights he takes it easy while the others have his more cynical nature leak through, tonight being the latter. you screwed your eyes shut once pleasure crawled through your skin, the ranger prying and poking at every sensitive corner of your body. from his ice cold fingers pinching your hard nipples, to his shark-like teeth nipping at your neck. 

“a-sll this..over an insul–” 

“shut it.” 

you flinched, unable to prepare yourself for what the machine had in store for you. you nearly forgot how hard he can be, until you felt something poking at your thighs. 

seven rounds, and he had yet to stop.

your jaw went slack so long ago, nothing but incoherent words and pleading coming out of your fucked out mouth. the taste of his spit lingered on your tongue which rolled out and is now pressed against the glass with the rest of your naked body.

“Ah..! B-Boothill! T-They’ll see uh—us!”

you whimpered, unable to string two words together without a sharp thrust ripping another sound out of your throat. through blurred vision, you could see Golden Hour in all its glory, praying that nobody spots your ilicit act with the ranger. your knees buckled, already weak from how long you’ve been standing without a break as boothill snapped his hips against yours while his teeth sunk into your shoulder for what seemed like the upteenth time.

“you think i give a crap doll? now keep that pretty mouth shut like i asked.”

he hissed in your ear, squeezing the plush of your thighs that were littered with teeth marks. you mewled, feeling the knot in your stomach snapping once again and throwing you into another intense orgasm. your hand curled up into a tight fist, almost banging itself against the foggy glass as stars filled your vision. a raspy chuckle was all you could hear, courtesy of an insatiable and spiteful boothill. he watched as you lost balance and fell onto his metal chest, breathing heavily between sobs.

“awee..~ tired already, doll?”

he cooed, you just wanted to sock his stupid smirk off his face. instead, you pouted, letting out an annoyed whine as you squirmed from his cock simply sitting inside you without moving an inch.

“maybe watch that tongue next time, hon’. then i’ll go easy on ya.”

he laughs, before pressing your limp body against the messy glass again and snapping his hips against yours with his relentless pace. feeling your brain melting from the overwhelming amount of cock he’s stuffing into you, you could only hang on for dear life as boothill made you eat your own words.

quite literally too.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP Prompt: Family dinner with the Fenton Family and the Waynes. Chaos ensues.

If looks could kill, Danny would’ve been killed a thousand times over, with his body cremated and his ashes thrown into the farthest volcano with salt then being tossed along the dirt afterwards.

Dan had never looked so vicious as he glared daggers at Danny, who was his eyes closed and his hands in front of him, like a prayer. However, he was definitely praying for patience because he had a dinner knife in one hand that Cass was trying to take back from him to no avail.

Dani had her arms wrapped around Tim’s, a wide grin on her face as she noisily snacked on the roast potatoes and watched the battle between Dan and Danny. Tim was trying to hold back a smile, but he pulled the bowl of potatoes closer to her. Kon, who was sitting on the other side of her and was invited by Tim, was also wide eyed and grinning, an arm wrapped around the both of their chairs when he leaned back.

Jazz just looked at Alfred and Bruce with a shameful look on her face and beading tears of embarrassment in her eyes as she muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Jason was trying to soothe her and not-so-subtly motion Dick to step in and stop the fight while said man was staring at his boyfriend in horror, looking between both of the psychically fighting men with strange looks.

Damian had his head down, whispering to Stephanie and Duke who also had their heads ducked as they gossiped about the situation. Jon, who was sitting on Damian’s other side, was also leaning in and listening with a grin.

Bruce was just looking back and forth between Dan and Danny with wariness and confusion.

“… do you two know each other?”

“Know each other?” Danny said, looking up and finally opening his eyes. “Oh, we definitely know each other.”

Dan bristled at some invisible offense. Dick snapped back fo awareness and grabbed him, chuckling nervously as Dan growled.

Danny raised an eyebrow and sneered, continuing, “Yeah, I know him, alright.”

Dan suddenly grabbed a fork and threw it at Danny. It sank into the wall and pandemonium erupted as the Bats lunged backwards as Dan flew over the table to jump at Danny. However, Danny wasn’t going out without a fight because they immediately began punching and kicking with even some biting. Cass and Dick lunged forward to pull them apart while everyone else moved away.

Dani burst out laughing, but when Jazz burst into tears, that was when everything got even worse.

(I actually wanted to write something like this lmao.

If I continued this, it would be too long, but basically, Jazz has been on her last nerves for the entire day bc this is the first time she’s ever met her boyfriend’s family, and then SUDDENLY she finds out all of her siblings are dating people from the same family and then now her brothers are fighting bc none of them knew that they were dating a pair of siblings, and they thought they could finally get away from each other, and she’s both so embarrassed and so anxious that she started crying.

Immediately, it’s like a *record scratch*, the fighting stops and both Dan and Danny make up really, really fast to comfort their sister and then all of the Phantoms, including Dani bc she did nothing to stop the fight, help clean up the mess and the day actually gets better bc it becomes a bonding activity between the Fentons and the Bats. Jazz is still very embarrassed but it works out.)

[tasteracha]

everything for your golden touch.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: fem!reader (reader is called good girl), slight restraint, new kink discovery, unprotected sex. smut - MINORS DNI.

synopsis: you didn't know how to tell minho you wanted him to pin your wrists down and ruin you.

you love minho. you love every single thing about him, from the freakish facial expressions that he makes when he wants to annoy you to the soft sound of his voice when he’s talking to his cats. you loved him so fierce that you ached with it, the knowledge that he is yours inflating your head to the point of almost bursting.

you loved having sex with him almost as much as you loved loving him. you craved the way he would untangle your body with his fingers, the dark and twisted way his eyes would bore into yours as he slid into you, the near animalistic way he would drive into you when he was close to his high.

and yet, your greedy little mind couldn’t help but want something else. despite the love and care and attention he gave you so freely, you held this small bundle of disappointment deep inside of you, locked away and begging to be set free: 

you wanted him to pin your wrists down - to the wall, to the bed, behind your back, anything. you wanted to see the veins in his hand bulge from holding you down, you wanted bruises painted on your skin for days that you could look at as evidence of his passion for you. you wanted to be rendered immobile, you wanted to thrash around with no chance of escape

you think about it more frequently than what is probably normal; when you try to not think about you end up thinking about it more, and it turns into this vicious cycle that you can’t leave. in bed is one thing, but daydreaming in grocery stores? when you’re out at dinner with your friends? even now, when you’re sitting with his head in your lap watching a movie?

in truth, this one wasn’t your fault, really. one minute you were watching the two leads dance around each other in a frustratingly awkward flirtation and the next they had peeled each others’ clothes off and were engaging in some heavy petting that you had to admit was a tad too much. usually when corny sex scenes took place during movies you watched together, you both laughed about it, giggling at how unrealistic it was. but this one…

the man takes both of her wrists in one hand and presses them to the mattress above her head and she moans, and despite how pornographically fake it sounded you still found yourself pressing your legs together just slightly. minho’s head shifts with the movement and he huffs, fidgeting a bit before settling back down. 

the camera pans to the woman’s wrists, and you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around nothing, an embarrassing gush of wetness seeping out of you. you haven’t been turned on this quickly by something other than minho’s lips in so long and you wish you could hide your face away from him. 

“he’s not even pressing that hard, she could get free so easily,” minho snarks, complimenting his words with a bark of laughter before looking up at you for a response. 

he doesn’t go to the gym like you do, is what you would likely say if this wasn’t affecting you the way it was. she’s pretending to stroke his male ego.

“yeah,” you say instead, and it comes out shakier than you wanted it to. he notices, of course he does, and before you could brush it off he sits up and scrutinizes you with narrowed eyes. 

“are you-” he cuts himself off, pausing to look down at your lap and back up to your eyes. “are you turned on right now?”

“shut up,” you drop your hands to your lap in an effort to cover up something invisible, something that he clearly already knew about. 

“don’t hide from me,” he teases, taking one of your wrists into his hand to move it away from your lap. “you’re turned on by a cheesy porno scene, this is so funny.”

“it’s not that,” you try to defend yourself when he bursts into delighted laughter. you try and move your hand out of his grip, but he keeps it strong, and that makes the pulsing between your legs even worse.

he notices, of course he does. he notices everything about you, whether you like it or not. 

“oh,” he breathes out, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, his tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip. you can see the wheels turning in his head as he arrives at the answer to a question you didn’t want him to ask. 

“let’s just go back to the movie, okay?” you tug again at your hand but he doesn’t budge. his eyes are transfixed on the way his fingers look wrapped around the delicate skin of your wrist.

“you want me to do this?” he breathes out, taking your hand and leading it up to the back of the couch, right by your head. he positions your hand in place delicately before pressing down, so far that you can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your fingertips.

“god, yes,” you moan out, too far past being embarrassed to hold anything back. you can feel each one of his fingers pressing into your skin, and you buck your hips up into him when he moves to slide a knee in between your legs. 

“how long have you been holding this back from me, hmm?” he asks, leaning forward so that his words glide right against your ear. he presses a kiss to the top of your jaw before pulling back a bit.

“wasn’t holding it back,” you gasp out as he pins your other wrist to the opposite side of your head, trapping you in place. 

“i think you were,” he brushes his lips against yours and you try and chase him when he moves back but you can’t with the way he’s holding you back.

he guides you up, his grip still strong on your wrists, and oh. he’s walking you to the bedroom with your wrists trapped in his grip and this is something you hadn't ever imagined - it was somehow better. 

you move as if in a daze, the air around you moving away like syrup as he pushes you into the mattress underneath him. everything was happening too quickly, not fast enough, just right in the space and time he’s given you. 

he releases your wrists so he can undress himself, and you already miss the warm weight of him on you as if you were missing a limb. 

he doesn’t make you wait too long, climbing over you with a predatory look in his eyes, pressing just enough of his weight onto your body to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“my pretty girl wants to be held down, doesn’t she?” he teases, his voice deep against your skin as he trails his fingers against the veins on your wrists. 

“ngh, min,” is all you can let out, all the thoughts leaving your head with every touch of his fingers on you. he nuzzles his nose into your neck, an impossibly sweet gesture that makes you relax into a boneless puddle of spilled bones on the mattress. 

“i’ll always give you what you want,” he yanks your hands up above your head in one split second, a wicked grin on his face as he crosses them and pins them to the pillows. his other hand trails down to the waistband of your shorts, teasing them against the elastic before creeping further down. 

you’re already so turned on, so close to the edge that the first brush of his fingers against your clit makes you jump underneath him. your hands start to move to wrap around his back, wanting to hold him even closer to you, but you can’t. you let out a dry sob, so overwhelmed with how this was impossibly good, how such simple actions from him effected you so intensely. this was so much more than you could ever have imagined in the darkest parts of your head.

his fingers pause on your skin and he looks up at you with alarm, an are you okay? at the edge of his tongue.

“off,” you say before he could, wriggling your hips and hoping he would understand. 

“okay, baby,” he does, of course he does. he helps you kick off your shorts and panties, and it’s a little bit of an awkward affair but neither of you could think to care about that. every bit of his teasing from earlier was gone, the reactions he pulled from you making him desperate to do it over and over just to hear the way you gasped so prettily around his name.

his hand flies back to your cunt, keeping your wrists secured above your head as he rubs circles around your clit over and over until you’re shaking apart under him. your hips buck up when you come and he works you through it, finally stopping when you start to whine in sensitivity.

he lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hand, latching his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss that leaves you panting into his mouth. you leave your hands where he had kept them, still crossed over your head, and when he notices he groans at the sight. 

“you’re so hot,” he says reverently, the possessiveness in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “you’re so good, my good girl, all mine.”

“yes, god, i’m yours-”, he doesn’t let you finish, flipping you over onto your stomach so quickly that you felt weightless. he paints himself onto your back and you can feel how hard he is, his cock brushing against your thighs. he takes your wrists in his hands again and twists them to rest at your lower back, securing them in his hold.

he ruts into the space between your thighs once, twice, three times before positioning himself at your entrance and burying himself inside of you. you’re so wet that the slide is almost too easy, he fits himself into you like he was made to be there always.  he stays there for a moment, nosing at the back of your head before drawing out and snapping his hips forward so quickly that you can hear his thighs hitting your ass.

“ah!” you cry out, the aftershocks of your previous orgasm giving away to the feeling of him gliding in and out of you. you feel so impossibly small like this, pressed underneath him and unable to move - not that you would want to if you could. 

he keeps you restrained under him as he drives into you, ignoring the way your hands clench and unclench into fists every time he hits that spot deep inside of you that makes your entire body sing with pleasure. 

he presses wet kisses to the back of your neck, the side of your ear, the crown of your head as he fucks you; the only sounds echoing through the room are his breathless pants and the little ah-ah-ah’s you let escape into the pillow under you. 

you come together, the rhythmic squeezing of his hand around your wrists and your cunt around his cock creating the perfect rhythm for both of you to ride until climax. he stays buried inside of you for a moment, releasing your wrists to intertwine his fingers with yours instead. 

when he pulls out to collapse on his back next to you, you whine a bit, and he shushes you and pulls you into his chest. he’s still catching his breath and you can hear his hummingbird heartbeat under your ear as he tilts his head down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“why didn’t you tell me this was something you wanted to do?” he asks, trailing his fingers through your hair. 

“i didn’t want you to think i wasn’t satisfied with what we do already,” you mumble, addressing his chest more than him. “because i am, truly.”

“baby, you don’t need to be afraid to tell me these things,” he soothes, his voice so soft in the night air. “i can’t say this was something i’ve thought about before, but i very much enjoyed it. we discovered this together. i want to keep discovering things with you.”

“will you stop being so emotionally intelligent all the time?” you slap his chest, a light thing, but he grabs your wrist in his hand to stop you from doing it again anyways. there’s redness there from the way he had been gripping it and he rubs his thumb against your skin to soothe it; even so, you hope you can see the marks of his fingertips there tomorrow.

“you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

[brunchable]

To the Windowww, To the Wall | Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Stay-at-home Bucky Barnes x f!Reader. Themes: funny? Bucky being a sad puppy that you had to leave him. Summary: You had to leave for a few days, leaving Bucky alone by himself. See, Bucky doesn't know what to do without you around and he finds a way to keep himself entertained. A/N: Totally not inspired by Sebastian's singing clips.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, blue eyes tracing the car that slowly backed out of the driveway. He tried to keep his expression neutral—really, he did—but the moment you waved at him through the window with a sheepish smile, his mouth curved down into the most pitiful pout.

“Call me as soon as you get there,” he called out, voice loud enough to carry over the crunch of gravel. “And text me when you’re at the hotel, okay? I wanna know you’re safe.”

“I will, I will,” you promised, shaking your head at his intensity. “It’s only two days, Bucky. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He gave you a half-hearted wave as the car pulled away, standing there long after the taillights disappeared down the street. With a defeated sigh, Bucky trudged back into the house, the place already feeling too empty without you. He stared at the closed door, then sighed dramatically.

“Hey, Google,” he called, slumping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling with a forlorn expression. “Play something… uplifting.”

The house assistant processed the request before responding cheerfully, “Sure. Playing ‘Take On Me’ by a-ha.” The iconic 80s tune burst through the speakers, and Bucky groaned, already reaching for the bottle of red wine you’d left on the counter.

“Take on me, huh?” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he unscrewed the cap. He poured a dangerously generous glass, filled it nearly to the rim, and took a long gulp. “Whatever, let’s do this.”

The song picked up tempo, and before Bucky knew it, his foot was tapping against the hardwood floor. He took another sip—more like a gulp—and suddenly, it wasn’t so bad. He could be alone for two days. He was fine. Totally fine.

“Take on meeeee!” he belted, raising his glass in salute to the empty room, swaying with the music. He spun on his heel, shuffling over to the kitchen, letting his voice warble with mock sincerity, “Take me onnnnn!”

Feeling the buzz of wine, the song swapped to “Hungry Eyes” next, holding his glass like a delicate flower. He glanced at his reflection in the kitchen window, grinning at how absolutely ridiculous he looked.

“Hungry eyes…” He set the glass on the coffee table, swaying his hips with exaggerated movements that definitely didn’t match the beat. 

“One look at you and I can’t disguise…” His voice faltered as he noticed just how lonely the living room seemed without you. He grabbed the bottle again and poured himself another glass. 

Screw it, he thought. If he couldn’t be with you, he could at least dance away the emptiness.

He threw himself onto the couch, raising his glass high above his head as the final chords faded. 

“Google,” he shouted, half-expecting the AI to be annoyed by his demands, “play ‘Get Low’ by Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz.’”

The house assistant complied, and the second the familiar booming beat and crunk vocals hit, Bucky perked up, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“To the windowwww to the wall!” he sang, throwing his hands up and letting his hips sway. The buzz of the wine, coupled with the absurdity of dancing alone in their living room, made him throw caution—and dignity—to the wind.

He got up, spinning in place like he was at a crowded club instead of a silent, empty house. Bucky shimmied to the center of the living room, red wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim as he started to get into the groove.

“Til the sweat drop down my balls! Til all you bitches crawl!” he bellowed, bounced to the beat. Pretending to taunt an invisible person with gun fingers.

He leaned forward, a playful grin stretching across his face as he started lowering himself closer to the ground, hips rolling in tight circles. “Ahh skeet skeet motherfuckuhhh” he growled, then laughed at how ridiculous he sounded.

He jumped back up, still swaying his hips in rhythm to the chorus, then decided—because why the hell not?—to try his best attempt at Lil Jon’s vocal growl. “Ahh skeet skeet goddamn!”

Feeling a surge of confidence, Bucky planted his feet, rolling his shoulders back. “Get low, get low, get low, get low!” he sang, then reached out to slap the air like he was hitting someone’s backside.

He burst out laughing at his own antics but kept moving, thrusting his hips forward and back with exaggerated flair. 

“To the windowww, to the wall!” he shouted, holding the final word until his voice cracked.

Glancing over his shoulder, his hips swinging from side to side. He brought his hands to his hips, then began moving in small, tight circles, thrusting forward with more energy than was probably necessary. He was completely lost in the rhythm, the absurdity of it all driving away the loneliness—at least temporarily.

“Drop that ass, aye, shake it fast, aye,

pop that ass to the left and the right, aye!” 

“Now back, back, back it up!” he sang, doing a quick little shuffle steps backward, “Now, stop! Then wiggle with it.” He reached out with one hand, smacking the air as if it were someone’s backside again, then immediately snapped his hips forward with a grin.

He didn’t even notice when the front door creaked open.

“What the hell… are you doing?” Your voice cut through the blaring music, startling Bucky so badly that he nearly dropped the glass. He whipped around, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson.

You stood at the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in a look of pure amusement. He blinked once, then twice, his stance frozen in mid-thrust as if he’d been caught in the middle of a crime.

“I… I thought you left,” he stammered, wide eyes darting to the door and back to you. He stared at you for a second longer, then glanced down at himself—knees bent, hands hovering in the air like he was about to grab something. “This… this isn’t what it looks like.”

You blinked, glancing from his face to his ridiculous dance stance and then back up. “It looks like you’re dancing to ‘Get Low’ and smacking an invisible ass.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he straightened up with as much dignity as he could muster and cleared his throat, smoothing his shirt like it would somehow erase the last few minutes of embarrassing dancing.

“Um…” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I… missed you.”

“I was gone for ten minutes,” you pointed out, stifling a laugh as you stepped closer.

Bucky shrugged, eyes darting around the room like he could somehow come up with a reasonable excuse for what you just walked in on. 

“Yeah, but… it felt longer.”

You shook your head, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you reached up to cup his cheek. 

“Well, I’m here for a little while longer… I guess we can share a drink.” Your grin widened as you glanced around the mess of the living room. “And maybe, if you’re nice enough, I’ll join you for one last dance before I go.”

His face lit up immediately, his grin matching yours. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He pulled you into his arms, the ridiculous music still blaring as he spun you around the room, your laughter blending perfectly with the beat.

When the song changed to a new beat, you pulled away, raising a brow as you glanced at him. “How about I show you some real moves?”

Bucky’s grin widened as he stepped back, giving you space. “Prove it.”

With that, you took a deep breath and started moving, your body flowing smoothly with the rhythm. You rolled your hips, your arms swaying in sync, and when the beat dropped, you dipped low, popping back up in a fluid wave that left Bucky staring, mouth slightly agape.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh. “I had no idea.”

You laughed softly, giving him a playful shrug. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.”

Bucky’s gaze softened as he took a step forward, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you replied, stepping back before he could pull you close again. “But, I really do need to go.”

His face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, giving him a warm smile. “I’ll be back.”

Before he could respond, you backed up a few steps and—making sure his eyes were still glued to you—you dropped low again, this time adding a playful shake as you swayed back up, your movements teasing.

Bucky choked on a laugh, his hand flying to his mouth as he watched you with an almost comically wide-eyed stare. “That’s just unfair.”

You blew him a kiss. “See you later, Bucky.”

And with a quick, last little shimmy, you were out the door, leaving him standing there, a goofy grin plastered on his face as he shook his head, wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : LITTLE MUTANT: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You are spending a peaceful afternoon with your four-year-old son, Tommy. While playing, you notice his toy plane suddenly floating in the air, revealing the first signs of his mutant abilities. Startled, you call Logan, who rushes back home. Together, you both watch as Tommy uses telekinesis to stack his building blocks, completely unaware of the gravity of what he's doing. Logan reassures you that, just like him, Tommy will learn to control his powers, and you both find comfort in knowing you'll handle it as a family.

Based on this request.

IT WAS A QUIET SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT THE HOWLETT HOUSEHOLD, the kind of peaceful day that felt like a rare gem. Birds chirped outside the open window, sunlight streamed into the living room, and the air smelled of fresh laundry. The idyllic scene was only made more perfect by the sight of you and your four-year-old son, Tommy, curled up on the sofa together.

Tommy sat in your lap, giggling as you tickled his belly, his small fingers clutching a toy airplane. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes, the ones he’d inherited from his father, Logan. That same scruffy intensity, but softened by the innocence of a child.

"Mommy, fly!" Tommy exclaimed, holding the plane above his head and wiggling it through the air. "Look! I'm a pilot!"

"You sure are, sweetie," you said, grinning. "You're the best pilot I've ever seen. Where are you flying today, Captain Tommy?"

He squinted, thinking seriously about it for a moment. "To the moon! And then... and then to the jungle to find the lions!" His arms wobbled as he made dramatic sound effects, roaring for the lions.

"The moon and the jungle? Busy day!" You played along, tousling his messy hair. He was so full of energy and imagination that it felt like every day with him was an adventure.

Just as you leaned down to kiss his forehead, you noticed something odd. The plane in his hand seemed to... well, it seemed to be shaking.

No, not shaking. Floating. It was barely perceptible, but it was definitely hovering, just a few inches above his hand.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes, thinking maybe you were just tired. Four years of motherhood didn’t exactly do wonders for your sleep schedule. But when you looked again, the plane was still floating, a soft blue glow surrounding it like it was suspended by some invisible force.

"Uh, Tommy?" you said, trying to keep your voice calm. "How are you doing that, honey?"

Tommy, completely oblivious to the phenomenon, just giggled and shook the plane in the air again. "Doing what, Mommy?"

You felt your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. Logan was going to want to see this.

You carefully placed Tommy on the sofa and reached for your phone. Logan had gone out for one of his "I need some space to clear my head" walks in the woods behind the house, but it looked like he was about to get pulled back into dad duty.

You quickly dialed his number. It only took one ring before his gravelly voice answered, laced with that familiar grumpiness.

“Yeah honey?”

“Logan, you need to get back here. Now.”

There was a brief pause. “Why? What’s wrong? Is Tommy okay?”

“He’s... fine. Sort of. Just... hurry. I think something’s happening.”

“Be there in five.” You heard the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of him running before he hung up. Classic Logan. Always ready to bolt into action the second his family needed him.

You turned back to Tommy, who had abandoned his floating toy plane in favor of drawing on the wall with a crayon. Normally, that would’ve driven you crazy, but given the circumstances, a little crayon art felt like the least of your worries.

~

True to his word, Logan burst through the front door exactly five minutes later, his rugged frame filling the entryway. His flannel shirt was half unbuttoned, exposing his muscular chest, and his hair was as wild as ever. He looked like he’d sprinted the entire way back.

“Okay,” he grumbled, striding into the living room. “What’s going on?”

You pointed toward Tommy, who was now sitting on the floor, happily stacking his building blocks... without touching them. The blocks were arranging themselves in mid-air, each one glowing faintly, as if magnetically drawn into place.

“Logan...” you whispered, your eyes wide. “Our son is a mutant.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as he knelt down to Tommy’s level, watching intently. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just observing the floating blocks. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s got it.”

You knelt beside Logan, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think... do you think he knows what he’s doing?”

Tommy, blissfully unaware of the significance of his new abilities, just grinned up at the both of you. "Daddy, look! I'm a magician!"

Logan’s gruff expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, buddy. Looks like you are.”

You leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of Logan’s body next to yours as you whispered, “What do we do?”

Logan huffed a small laugh and shrugged, his usual stoicism breaking just a little. “Hell if I know. You think there’s a manual for this? He’s a kid. He’s got a mutation. We’ll figure it out.”

“But... what if he can’t control it? What if it gets worse?”

Logan glanced at you, his expression serious now, but not without comfort. “He’s our kid. We’re not gonna let him go through this alone. We’ll teach him, just like I was taught.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in your chest ease slightly. If anyone could handle this, it was Logan. He’d been through enough in his own life to know what it was like to have powers he couldn’t control. And now, with Tommy showing signs of being a mutant, it felt like you were entering uncharted territory as parents.

Tommy, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in his floating blocks, giggling as they danced in the air. “Look, Mommy! I’m making a tower!”

“That’s... a very nice tower, sweetie,” you said, forcing a smile as you watched the blocks stack themselves higher and higher.

Logan chuckled softly and ruffled Tommy’s hair, his gruff exterior melting just a little more. “Hey, kiddo, maybe we should keep the floating stuff between us for now, huh? Don’t want to freak out the other kids at daycare.”

Tommy looked up at Logan with wide eyes, as if he was processing the most important secret of his life. He nodded seriously. “Okay, Daddy. I won’t tell. It’s our secret.”

Logan shot you a look, raising his eyebrow as if to say, *See? Easy.* You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully.

“So, what now, oh wise and experienced mutant dad?” you teased, leaning your head against Logan’s shoulder.

He smirked, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Now? We teach him how to use those powers right. And maybe... we start bolting down the furniture.”

You laughed, feeling the tension finally break as Logan kissed the top of your head. It wasn’t exactly the parenting journey you’d imagined, but with Logan by your side, you knew you could handle anything. Even a four-year-old with telekinesis.

Tommy, now bored of his floating tower, climbed into Logan’s lap, resting his head on his father’s chest. “Daddy, can we play with the lions tomorrow?”

Logan smiled softly, stroking Tommy’s hair. “Yeah, buddy. We’ll play with the lions. But remember... no floating lions.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Tommy murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as he dozed off.

As you watched your little boy fall asleep in Logan’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of love for both of them. Your life might not have been normal by any stretch, but it was yours. And honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Guess we’ve got our hands full,” you whispered, resting your hand on Tommy’s small back.

Logan glanced down at you, that familiar glint of affection in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’.”

And as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over your family, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe parenting a little mutant wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

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[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 9✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, ANGST, fluff

Word Count: 8842

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

Eventually, the need to see his face, to gauge his expression, became too strong to resist. You tilted your head slightly, your eyes seeking his, hoping to find some kind of reassurance, some sign of what he was thinking. But Dean, ever the master of self-control, kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw clenched as he fought the internal battle raging inside him.

He knew you were looking at him, could feel the intensity of your gaze, but he forced himself to stay still, to keep his eyes averted. He knew that if he looked down, if he met your gaze, he would be lost. The walls he had carefully built up to keep his feelings in check would crumble, and he would give in to everything he had been trying so hard to resist.

But the seconds ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last, and the weight of your gaze became impossible to ignore. He could feel you there, so close, and the pull was undeniable. His resolve weakened with each passing moment, the temptation too strong to resist.

Finally, as if drawn by an invisible force, Dean’s eyes slowly dropped to meet yours. The moment your gazes locked, something inside him snapped. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the silent plea for something more, and it broke through the last of his defenses.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension, the room suddenly feeling too small, too intimate. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you, really looked at you, and saw everything he had been trying to avoid for so long. The way you were looking at him, the soft vulnerability mixed with something deeper, something that mirrored the emotions he had been trying to bury—it was too much.

“(Y/N)…”. Dean’s voice was a whisper, rough and filled with a mixture of longing and restraint. He wanted to say something, to put a stop to whatever was happening between you, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself inching closer, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you searched his eyes, trying to read the emotions flickering there. You could see the struggle, the way he was battling with himself, and it made your own emotions surge even more. You wanted to close the distance between you, to finally give in to the connection that had been building for so long, but a part of you was still scared—scared of what this could mean, of how it could change everything.

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips for a brief moment, and you could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. He wanted this—wanted you—but he was fighting it with every ounce of strength he had. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that the fight was slipping away from him.

Before Dean could gather his thoughts or steel himself against the overwhelming tide of emotions, you made the first move. Your hand slid up, fingers gently grazing his stubbled cheek. The touch was soft, hesitant, yet filled with a silent promise, one that spoke of all the things you’d been too afraid to say aloud. The warmth of his skin under your palm sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the tension in his body as he struggled with his own conflicting desires.

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as you inched closer, the space between you shrinking until it was almost non-existent. Every inch of him was screaming to pull away, to keep you safe from the storm of emotions that threatened to consume you both, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his gaze away from yours.

And then, with a courage you hadn’t realized you possessed, you closed the remaining distance. Your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss that was as much an exploration as it was a confession. The moment your lips touched, it was as if something clicked into place—a connection that had been waiting for this exact moment, for this exact kiss.

Dean’s initial shock melted away almost instantly, and the restraint he had been clinging to dissolved like mist in the morning sun. His hand slipped up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring all the unspoken words and buried feelings into it. There was a hunger in the way he kissed you, a desperation that matched your own, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, lost in each other. The kiss was both tender and urgent, a delicate balance of restraint and passion, as if you were both afraid this might be the only chance you’d get.

Dean’s other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The feel of your body against his, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath—it was intoxicating, more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. Every part of him was on fire, and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want to let you go.

As you pressed yourself closer to Dean, the kiss deepened, filled with an urgency that left both of you breathless. You shifted, one of your legs slipping over his hip, drawing him even closer. Dean’s hands moved instinctively, one sliding from your waist to your ass, pulling you tighter against him. The contact was electric, and the warmth of his body, combined with the feel of his erection pressing against your core, sent a jolt of desire through you.

A tight knot formed in your lower belly, the intensity of your emotions and physical sensations making it difficult to think clearly. The pressure, the heat, and the sensation of Dean’s hardness against you combined to overwhelm your senses. Unable to hold back, a soft, involuntary moan escaped from your lips, muffled by his mouth.

Dean responded to your moan with a low growl, his hands tightening their grip on you as he deepened the kiss even further. His own desire was becoming nearly unbearable, and the way you were pressing against him, the way you were responding to him, only fueled the fire burning inside him.

He shifted slightly, his hands moving to hold you more securely, ensuring that you were pressed flush against him. The urgency of the moment was palpable, both of you caught up in the raw intensity of the connection you had just established. The boundaries between you seemed to blur as you both gave in to the powerful emotions driving you.

But even as the heat of the moment consumed you, there was a flicker of hesitation in the back of Dean’s mind. He knew how significant this moment was, how it could change everything between you. Yet, as he felt your body against his, heard your breathy moans, he found it almost impossible to pull away. The mix of desire and care was almost too much to handle, and it made every instinct in him scream to stay, to hold you and cherish this moment for all it was worth.

You continued to move against him, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you tried to keep up with the mounting intensity. The kiss was no longer just an exploration but a fervent exchange of passion and longing, each of you trying to communicate everything you couldn’t put into words.

As you clung to Dean, one hand gripping his biceps, the other buried in his hair, the sensations flooding your body became too much to contain. The pressure of your core against his erection, the steady, deliberate friction as you moved together, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the combination of your emotions and the physical connection with Dean taking you to a place you hadn’t anticipated.

With each shift of your hips, the knot in your lower belly tightened, coiling with an intensity that left you breathless. Dean’s hands guided you, pulling you against him, the heat of his touch searing into your skin.

Then, without warning, the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body tensing as you climaxed. The sensation was so powerful, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss. Your body shook in Dean’s arms, every muscle trembling as the pleasure washed over you in intense waves.

Dean felt you tense against him, the way your body shook as you came, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The raw, unfiltered expression of your pleasure—the way you moaned into his mouth, the way you clung to him—was the hottest, most intimate thing he had ever witnessed. He was captivated by it, completely consumed by the sight and feel of you in his arms, lost in the moment.

Dean’s breath hitched as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The way your body had responded to him, the intensity of your release, was something he hadn’t anticipated, something that had shaken him to his core. His voice was a low, rough whisper as he asked, “Did you just…?”.

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to respond. The reality of what had just happened began to sink in, and with it came a wave of embarrassment that made your cheeks burn. You could feel the slickness between your legs, a physical reminder of just how completely you had lost control in his arms, and it made you want to hide, to pull away and escape the vulnerability of the moment.

But Dean’s arms were still around you, holding you close, and the look in his eyes was anything but judgmental. He looked almost in awe, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened either. That didn’t stop the flush of embarrassment from flooding your system, making you want to look anywhere but at him.

Dean´s heart raced, his own desire throbbing through him with an intensity that bordered on painful. The knowledge that you had come just from being close to him, just from that little bit of friction, ignited something primal inside him. It took everything he had not to lose control right then and there.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally managed to speak. “I… I didn’t mean to…”. The words trailed off, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment and the sudden rush of emotions that followed.

But Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he cupped your face with one hand. And without any hesitation, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again. The kiss was different this time—less desperate, more deliberate. It was as if he was trying to tell you with every movement of his lips that it was okay, that there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

The moment his lips touched yours, the tension that had been coiling inside you began to unravel. You melted into the kiss, letting go of the lingering embarrassment, the confusion, and the fear. All that mattered was the way Dean was holding you, grounding you in the present, making you feel safe and cherished.

Dean’s kiss deepened, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together once more. The heat between you reignited, but this time it was slower, more controlled. There was a tenderness in the way he kissed you, a reverence that made your heart swell. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was telling you that he understood, that he was here with you, and that nothing about this scared him away.

Your hands found their way back to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you lost yourself in the kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, intimate moment. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the way his breath mingled with yours.

When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were breathing heavily.

As you both pulled back, breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment hung in the air between you. The room felt charged with emotion, the weight of what had just happened settling in. But before any doubts or second thoughts could surface, before the moment could be ruined by uncertainty or fear, Dean gently guided your head against his chest.

You could feel his heart racing beneath your ear, the rapid thumping a mirror of your own. It was both reassuring and thrilling, a reminder that he was as affected by this as you were. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he was trying to shield you from the world outside, from any of the complications that might come with this new shift in your relationship.

Dean’s breath was still uneven, his body tense with the lingering desire that had built up between you. You could feel the hard press of his erection against your hip. It sent another wave of heat through you, your body responding to his in a way that felt both natural and inevitable.

But for now, neither of you moved.

Dean’s hand slowly began to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and calming. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence with words that might break the spell of the moment. Instead, he just held you, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace, letting you both come down from the intensity of what had just happened.

As you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you felt your own breathing begin to slow, the adrenaline of the moment finally starting to ebb away. The heat between you was still there, still palpable, but it was tempered now by a deeper sense of connection, of understanding.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the cool emptiness of the bed beside you. The warmth and comfort of the night before had evaporated, leaving behind the stark reality of the morning. The memories of what had happened flooded back to you—every touch, every kiss, the way Dean had held you so tightly, as if he didn’t want to let go. But now, he was gone.

You reached out instinctively to the space where he had been, your hand brushing against the cold sheets. The room was quiet, almost eerily so, and you felt a pang of loneliness settle in your chest. The absence of Dean beside you was more than just physical; it was an emotional void that made the morning feel colder, emptier.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. The events of the night before felt almost surreal, like a dream you weren’t entirely sure had actually happened. But the lingering warmth on your skin, the faint scent of Dean still clinging to the sheets, told you it had been very real.

As you looked around the room, searching for any sign of him, the reality of the situation began to set in. Dean hadn’t just left the bed—he had left you. The weight of that realization hit you hard, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had regretted everything, if the moment of connection you had shared had been a mistake in his eyes.

The thought made your stomach churn, and you felt a wave of anxiety rise up inside you. What if this changed everything between you? What if he couldn’t look at you the same way anymore? The vulnerability of last night, the raw emotions that had surfaced, now seemed like a double-edged sword.

You slipped out of bed, the cool air of the morning making you shiver as your bare feet touched the floor. The house was quiet, everyone else still asleep or just starting to stir. You made your way to the bathroom, splashing water on your face in an attempt to clear your head. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled over you.

After a few minutes, you decided to go downstairs, hoping to find Dean, to talk to him, to figure out where things stood. But as you descended the stairs, the house remained silent, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

When you finally reached the kitchen, you found Dean standing by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. He didn’t turn when you entered, his posture tense, his gaze fixed on something outside that you couldn’t see.

“Dean?”, you called out softly, your voice hesitant.

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you feared he might ignore you altogether. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his thoughts, and finally turned to face you. His eyes were shadowed with guilt, and you could see the turmoil swirling just beneath the surface.

“Morning”, he muttered, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

You took a tentative step closer, trying to read his expression, to understand what he was feeling. “Dean… about last night…”.

He cut you off, shaking his head as if trying to ward off the conversation.

Dean cut you off, shaking his head with a frustration that was almost palpable. His jaw was tight, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he seemed to be wrestling with something deep inside. The guilt and anger in his expression were unmistakable, and it was clear that whatever he was feeling wasn’t just about last night—it went much deeper than that.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, he said sharply, his voice harsher than you’d ever heard it. It caught you off guard, making you flinch slightly. You could see that he wasn’t just upset—he was angry, but it wasn’t directed at you, at least not entirely. There was a self-loathing there, a frustration that seemed to be eating away at him.

You took a step back, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in his demeanor. “Dean, I’m sorry if—”.

He slammed the coffee cup down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the quiet kitchen. “Don’t”, he snapped, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t apologize. This… this isn’t your damn fault. It’s mine”.

You could feel the tension radiating off him in waves, the way his anger seemed to blur the lines between who he was really upset with. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but you weren’t sure how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between you.

“Dean, please, just talk to me”, you urged, your voice trembling slightly. “We can figure this out together”.

He looked at you then, his eyes full of a pain that made your chest tighten. “What’s there to talk about?”, he asked bitterly. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far. I should’ve known better. Hell, I do know better, but I still let it happen”.

You could feel the hurt welling up inside you, a deep ache that threatened to overwhelm you, but you swallowed it down, trying to focus on what he was saying, trying to understand the depth of his anger and guilt.

“You’re fucking 18, (Y/N)!”, he hissed, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m like your damn brother! I watched you grow up! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”.

The rawness in his voice cut through you, making you flinch. You could see the torment in his eyes, the way he was grappling with everything that had happened, and the self-loathing that seemed to be eating him alive. He wasn’t just angry—he was devastated by the situation, by the thought that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

“Dean…”, you began, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off again, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts that were tormenting him.

“No”, he said, his tone harsh and filled with regret. “This isn’t right. You’re too young. I’m supposed to protect you, not… not do this”. He gestured vaguely, his frustration evident as he struggled to find the right words. “I’m supposed to be better than this”.

You could see the guilt tearing him apart, the way he was punishing himself for what had happened, and it hurt to see him like this, to see him so lost and conflicted. But at the same time, his words stung. They made you feel like a mistake, like what you had shared last night was something to be ashamed of, and that hurt more than anything.

“Dean, please”, you tried again, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t you. I wanted it. I’m not a kid anymore”.

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “You say that, but you don’t get it. I’m not just some guy, (Y/N). I’m your family, or at least I’m supposed to be. I shouldn’t have let this happen, no matter how much I wanted it”.

The admission that he had wanted it too made your heart skip a beat, but it was quickly overshadowed by the despair in his voice, the way he seemed to be drowning in his own guilt. You could see that he was struggling, that he was trying to push you away to protect you, but all it was doing was tearing both of you apart.

His gaze flickered with a mix of anger, guilt, and something deeper, something that hurt you even more because it was so tightly intertwined with his love for you. You watched as his fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body nearly vibrating with the conflict inside him.

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time, as if trying to shake loose the thoughts that were tormenting him. His face twisted with disgust— at himself. “This is so damn wrong”, he muttered, more to himself than to you. “It’s disgusting”.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Disgusting. The word echoed in your mind, making you feel small and ashamed. You could see that he wasn’t directing the disgust at you, but it was hard not to internalize it, to not feel like everything that had happened was a mistake, something dirty and wrong.

“Dean, please don’t say that…”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t disgusting. It meant something. It—”.

But before you could finish, Dean turned away, his jaw tight, his expression twisted in a grimace of self-loathing. “I need to get out of here”, he said abruptly, cutting you off once more. The tone of his voice left no room for argument. He was shutting down, pulling away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, didn’t wait to hear what you had to say. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed through the empty house, a final punctuation to the words he had left unsaid.

As the silence settled in, you were left alone with your thoughts, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. The night before had felt like something special, something profound, but now it was tainted by the guilt and disgust Dean had thrown over it like a shadow. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to let yourself break down.

But as much as you tried to hold it together, the pain in your chest was overwhelming.

The realization of what you'd done, of how you'd pushed him, hit you with full force. You hated yourself for it—for crossing that line, for thinking that what happened between you could be anything more than a mistake. The tears started to flow, hot and unchecked, trailing down your cheeks as you fought to hold in the sobs that threatened to escape.

What had you been thinking? How could you have been so foolish? Dean had always seen you as his little sister, someone to protect, someone he loved but not in the way you had hoped. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe. You had ruined everything, tainted the relationship you cherished more than anything else.

Your lip quivered as more tears fell, and you could no longer stand to be out in the open, exposed and vulnerable. You quickly, but quietly, made your way back to your room, desperate for the sanctuary of your bed. Once inside, you locked the door behind you, needing to put a barrier between yourself and the rest of the world. You didn’t want to face anyone—not Dean, not Sam, not Jody or Claire or Alex. You couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing you like this, of knowing what you had done.

You crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over your head as if that could somehow shield you from the pain, from the guilt and the shame that was eating away at you. The tears kept coming, soaking the pillow beneath your head as you curled into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

You replayed the night in your mind over and over again, the moments that had felt so right now twisted and distorted by the harsh light of morning. You thought of Dean's words, of the look in his eyes when he called it disgusting, and the ache in your chest deepened. You felt like you had lost something precious, something irreplaceable, and you didn't know how to get it back.

The sobs finally broke free, muffled by the blanket as you cried into your pillow.

Eventually, the exhaustion from crying so hard began to take its toll, and your sobs quieted, replaced by a hollow emptiness. You stared at the wall, your eyes red and puffy, your heart feeling like it had been shattered into a million pieces. The self-loathing gnawed at you, making you feel like you didn’t deserve any comfort, any solace.

You lay there for what felt like hours, too drained to move, too defeated to care about anything else. All you wanted was to disappear, to escape from the reality of what you had done, and to forget that anything had ever happened.

By the time noon rolled around, the house was starting to come alive with the sounds of breakfast being prepared. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of bacon on the stove, and the smell of pancakes filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered the night before. Despite his best efforts to push the memories of the previous night aside, Dean found it hard to forget. The words he had said, the look on your face, the way you had clung to him—all of it haunted him.

He had spent the morning trying to distract himself, throwing himself into mundane tasks to keep his mind occupied, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you—saw the hurt in your eyes when he lashed out, saw the vulnerability that had been so raw and real. It tore at him, gnawed at his insides, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t even sure if it could be fixed.

Finally, when the smell of bacon and pancakes became too enticing to ignore, he decided to head downstairs. The hunger gnawing at his stomach was a welcome distraction, something simple and easy to focus on.

As he descended the stairs, Dean was careful to look around, his eyes scanning the living room and kitchen for any sign of you. But you weren’t there. Instead, he found Jody at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease, while Sam poured coffee into mugs at the counter. Claire and Alex were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting animatedly, their voices carrying an easy, carefree tone that felt jarring compared to the heaviness in Dean’s chest.

“Morning, Dean”, Jody called out with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’re just in time. Pancakes are almost ready”.

Dean forced a smile, trying to match the lightness in her voice. “Morning. Smells great”. His voice sounded more normal than he felt, and he was grateful for the small victory.

Sam looked up from his coffee, giving Dean a curious look. “You sleep okay?”, he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge of concern there, as if he could sense that something was off.

Dean shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Yeah, just fine. You?”.

Sam nodded, but his eyes lingered on Dean for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in his expression. “Same here”.

Jody flipped another pancake onto the growing stack on a plate beside her, then turned to Dean with a curious look. "Where’s (Y/N)?", she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of concern beneath it.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the question. He knew this moment would come, but he wasn’t prepared for the rush of guilt that hit him when Jody asked about you. He forced himself to stay calm, to not let the turmoil he was feeling show on his face.

"I’m not sure", Dean replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "She might still be upstairs. Probably just needed some extra sleep after last night".

Jody nodded, accepting his answer, but there was still a flicker of worry in her eyes. "I’ll save her some breakfast", she said, her voice gentle. "Maybe she just needs a little time to herself".

Dean nodded, grateful that Jody wasn’t pressing the issue further. The last thing he needed was for anyone to start asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He took a sip of his coffee, the warmth doing little to ease the cold knot of anxiety in his stomach.

As they all settled in to eat, Dean found it hard to concentrate on the conversation around the table. His mind kept drifting back to you—wondering if you were okay. He wanted to go up to your room, to talk to you, but he didn’t know what he would say, didn’t know if he could face the pain in your eyes again.

Jody must have noticed Dean’s distraction because she gave him a soft smile. "Dean, why don’t you take a plate up to (Y/N) when you’re done? She might appreciate the gesture".

Dean hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I’ll do that", he said, though the thought of facing you after everything that had happened filled him with a sense of dread.

As the meal continued, Dean tried his best to engage in the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. The thought of losing you, of damaging your relationship beyond repair, was almost too much to bear.

When breakfast was finally over, Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he needed to do. He loaded a plate with pancakes and bacon, then grabbed a fork before heading upstairs.

As he stood outside your door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, he hesitated. The fear of what he might find on the other side, the fear of seeing the hurt in your eyes again, almost made him turn back. But he knew he couldn’t avoid this forever. Taking a deep breath, he gently knocked on your door, hoping that you’d let him in.

Dean stood outside your door, his heart heavy with uncertainty as he waited for a response. When he finally heard your voice, it was soft, almost muffled, as you mumbled that you wanted to be alone and weren’t feeling well. The words stung more than he expected.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Alright”, he murmured through the door, his voice low and rough. “I’ll just leave your breakfast out here if you want it”. He placed the plate carefully on the floor in front of your door, lingering for a moment longer, hoping you might change your mind and open the door. But when nothing happened, he sighed quietly and turned away.

As he made his way back downstairs, his thoughts were a jumbled mess of guilt, regret, and a deep sadness that he couldn’t shake. He hated knowing that you were hurting, and he hated even more that he was the cause of it. The kitchen was still bustling with activity when he returned, the others chatting and laughing as they cleaned up from breakfast.

Dean forced a smile as he rejoined the group, though it felt hollow. “She’s not feeling well”, he said, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth. “Just wants to rest for a while”.

Claire smirked and nudged Alex. “Probably has a killer hangover”, she teased, her tone lighthearted.

The others chuckled, and even Jody shook her head with a small smile. “Well, she did have a lot to drink last night”, Jody said, her tone motherly but amused. “I’m sure she’ll feel better after some rest”.

Dean nodded, playing along with the easy explanation, but his thoughts were far from lighthearted. He couldn’t shake the image of you, alone in your room, likely hurting far more than you were letting on. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how badly he had messed things up.

As the others continued to clean up and chat, Dean found himself withdrawing, the conversation around him fading into the background.

You stayed in your room for the rest of the day, the walls around you feeling like both a sanctuary and a prison. The heaviness in your chest hadn’t lifted, and the thought of facing anyone, especially Dean, was too overwhelming. You tried to distract yourself, but every time you closed your eyes, you saw Dean’s face, heard his words, and felt the crushing weight of what had happened between you.

As the hours passed, the daylight faded, and the quiet of the evening settled over the house. You hadn’t moved from your bed, hadn’t even touched the breakfast Dean had left outside your door. The idea of eating made your stomach turn, and all you wanted was to be alone with your thoughts, no matter how painful they were.

The knock on your door startled you out of your daze. It was gentle, tentative, and after a moment, you heard Sam’s voice on the other side.

“(Y/N)?”, he called softly, his tone careful, as if he didn’t want to intrude. “It’s Sam. I brought you some dinner. Can you open the door for me?”.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to stay hidden away in your room and avoid everyone, but another part of you knew that Sam wouldn’t leave until he was sure you were okay. Sam had always been the more patient of the brothers, the one who could read between the lines, and you knew that if you didn’t answer, he would only worry more.

With a heavy sigh, you slowly got out of bed and made your way to the door. Your movements felt sluggish, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and the emotional toll of the day. When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before you finally opened it.

Sam stood there, holding a plate of food in one hand, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. He glanced down at the untouched breakfast plate still sitting on the floor and frowned slightly, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he looked up at you, his eyes soft with sympathy.

“Hey”, he said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Thought you might be hungry”.

You shook your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m not, really. But… thanks”.

Sam hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between respecting your space and wanting to help. The concern in his eyes was palpable, and you could see that he was struggling with whether or not to press the issue. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, stepping a little closer but still keeping a respectful distance.

"(Y/N)", he began, his voice gentle and full of care, "I can tell something’s bothering you. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, but… I’m here if you need to. What’s going on?”.

You hesitated, your heart tightening in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to drag Sam into the mess that had unfolded between you and Dean. You knew Sam was just trying to help, but the thought of opening up about what had really happened felt impossible. It was too raw, too confusing, and you didn’t want to burden him with it.

Instead, you let out a heavy sigh and turned away, walking back over to your bed. You didn’t want to lie to Sam, but you couldn’t tell him the whole truth either. So you sat down on the edge of the bed, your shoulders slumping with the weight of everything you were carrying, and settled on telling him about something else that had been on your mind—Jake.

“It’s… it’s about Jake”, you finally said, your voice subdued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. "I thought… I thought maybe it was going somewhere, you know? But he sent me a message last night, saying he got back together with his ex. I guess it just… it hit me harder than I expected”.

Sam listened carefully, his brow furrowing in sympathy as he took in your words. He knew that this wasn’t the whole story, that there was more to your sadness than just Jake, but he also knew better than to push you when you weren’t ready to open up.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N)”, he said softly, his tone filled with understanding. “I know that kind of thing can hurt, especially when you’re hoping for something more. But it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to”.

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to comfort you, even though your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Jake’s message had hurt, yes, but it wasn’t the real reason you were feeling so lost and broken.

Sam seemed to sense that you weren’t ready to dive deeper, and so he didn’t push further. Instead, he offered you a small, reassuring smile. “If you need anything, or if you want to talk more later, I’m here. We all are”.

You managed a weak smile in return, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it”.

With that, Sam gave you one last concerned look before quietly leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him. As soon as he was gone, you felt the weight of everything settle over you once more. The loneliness, the confusion, the pain of what had happened with Dean—it all came crashing back, leaving you feeling hollow and lost.

You curled up on the bed once more, pulling the blanket around you like a cocoon, trying to shut out the world and the emotions swirling inside you.

Down in the living room, the atmosphere was quieter than usual. The group had gathered to watch a movie, but the usual lighthearted banter and jokes were noticeably absent. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, and despite their best efforts, everyone could feel the underlying unease that hadn’t yet been resolved.

Dean sat a bit apart from the others, nursing a glass of whiskey. He was trying to focus on the movie, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you—upstairs, alone, hurting. He hated how things had gone, hated that he’d been the one to push you away when you needed him the most. The whiskey burned as it went down, but it did little to numb the guilt that gnawed at him.

When Sam finally returned from upstairs, the look on his face said everything. He sighed heavily as he approached the group, clearly concerned but trying to respect your need for space.

“She said she wants to be alone for a bit”, Sam informed the others, his voice low. “She’s upset about Jake. Apparently, he got back with his ex. She’s taking it pretty hard”.

The others exchanged sympathetic looks, their concern for you evident. Claire and Alex were particularly quiet, their usual energy subdued as they processed what Sam had said. Jody frowned, her motherly instincts kicking in as she glanced toward the stairs, clearly wanting to go check on you herself but respecting your need for privacy.

Dean felt a sinking sensation in his gut as Sam’s words sank in. The realization hit him hard—this was why you had wanted to go home last night. You were hurting over Jake, and in your vulnerable state, he had… Dean couldn’t even finish the thought. The guilt that had been simmering all day boiled over, and he felt like he had taken advantage of you, even if that hadn’t been his intention. He should have known better. He should have been there for you as a friend, as the person who was supposed to protect you—not complicate things further.

He hesitated, his mind racing with what he should do next. Sitting there, wallowing in guilt, wasn’t going to help anyone—especially not you. You were upstairs, hurting, and he knew he needed to make this right. But how? The mess he’d made wasn’t something that could be easily fixed with a few words or a simple apology. It was deeper than that.

Finally, he made up his mind. He couldn’t leave things the way they were. You deserved better than that. He stood up, setting his whiskey glass down with a bit more force than necessary, causing the others to look up at him in surprise.

“I’ll go talk to her”, Dean mumbled, his voice rough with determination. He needed to do this, to at least try and make amends. “Don’t wait up for me”.

No one argued with him, though the concern in their eyes was clear. Jody gave him a small, encouraging nod, while Sam watched him with that careful, knowing look that only a brother could give. Dean didn’t wait for any further response. He turned and headed for the stairs, his heart pounding as he made his way to your room.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly. “It’s me”, he said quietly, not sure if you’d even want to see him. “Can I come in?”.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard the faint sound of movement from the other side of the door. The lock clicked, and the door opened just a crack. Dean’s heart twisted at the sight of your face peeking out at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying.

You didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a mixture of emotions that made his chest tighten. He didn’t wait for an invitation; he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.

Dean hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of you standing there, looking so lost and small. The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and emotions, and he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to navigate the tangled mess that lay between you now.

You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. The sight of you like this—so vulnerable, so clearly hurting—made Dean’s chest tighten with guilt and regret.

He stumbled over his words, the usual confidence in his voice faltering as he finally spoke. “Is..Is it really about Jake?”, he asked, his voice rough and uncertain. “Or… is it… about me?”.

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. He wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hear the answer. But he knew he needed to ask it, needed to understand what was really going on between you.

You didn’t respond right away, your silence only adding to the tension in the room. Dean took a tentative step closer, his heart aching as he watched you. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and make everything better, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple.

Finally, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze with tear-filled eyes. The raw emotion in your expression made his heart clench, and he knew, in that moment, that this wasn’t about Jake.

You bit your lip, trying to keep it from trembling, but it was no use. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of everything came crashing down on you. The memory of Dean’s words from earlier—the way he had called what happened between you “disgusting”—echoed in your mind, making the ache in your chest even worse.

Unable to stand any longer, you let yourself sink down onto the edge of your bed, your legs feeling too weak to support you. The shame, the confusion, and the overwhelming sadness you felt were almost too much to bear. You wanted to say something, to explain, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

Dean watched you, his heart breaking as he saw the tears streaming down your face. The sight of you like this—so lost, so hurt—made him feel like the worst person in the world. He had never meant to make you feel this way, never meant to cause you this kind of pain. But he had, and now he didn’t know how to fix it.

He took another step closer, hesitating for a moment before kneeling down in front of you. He wanted to be on your level, to show you that he wasn’t above you, wasn’t trying to distance himself from you.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally reached out and gently took your hands in his. The contact was warm, comforting in a way, but it also carried the weight of everything that had passed between you. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion, as he tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil inside him.

"This… this can never lead anywhere", he started, his voice low and strained. The words seemed to hurt him as much as they hurt you, but he forced them out, knowing he had to say them. "I'm twenty years older than you, (Y/N). I’m supposed to be protecting you, looking out for you… like a brother. That’s what I’m supposed to be. Not this”.

His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if he was trying to anchor himself, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions that were tearing him apart. "You're just confused right now", he continued, his voice trembling. "With everything that's happened—with Jake and all that… You're hurting, and I get that. But this isn’t the answer. I can’t… we can’t let this go any further".

You could feel his hands shaking slightly as he spoke, and the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally spilled over, running down your cheeks. You had known, deep down, that this was what he was going to say, but hearing the words still cut through you like a knife.

"It's not about Jake. It’s… it’s about you. How I feel about you", you whispered, your voice breaking.

Dean closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as he struggled with your words. "You think that now", he said, his voice rough. "But you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t want to be tied down to someone like me. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you a future, someone who isn’t…".

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, his eyes opening to meet yours, filled with a sadness that made your heart ache even more. "I can’t be that person for you", he finished quietly. "As much as I might… I.. I can’t".

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable, and you could see how much he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. But despite everything he was saying, despite the barriers he was trying to put up between you, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go, couldn’t accept that this was how things had to be.

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over as you tried to make him understand. "Dean, it’s not about age, or what’s supposed to happen. I know what I want, and I’m not just confused. I’m not a kid anymore".

Dean’s grip on your hands tightened, his expression torn. "But I’m supposed to protect you from things like this", he whispered, his voice hoarse. "From me. I can’t… I can’t do this to you, (Y/N). It’s not right".

The room was thick with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. You could see the conflict in Dean’s eyes, the way he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you. And yet, despite everything, the connection between you— the emotions that had been building for so long—remained, a stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.

In that moment, you realized that no matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried to push you away, the feelings you had for each other weren’t going to disappear. They were too deep, too real. But whether or not you could ever act on them was a question neither of you had an answer to.

"Please", Dean said, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with anguish. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is".

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you both sat there in silence, holding onto each other as if you were afraid to let go.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your breath hitched as you gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in the back of your mind. It was a question you were terrified to know the answer to, but you knew you couldn’t move forward without asking it. Your voice broke as you whispered, the words trembling on your lips, “Dean..do you… do you like me?”.

You looked up at Dean through tear-filled lashes, your gaze searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling. The vulnerability in your eyes was mirrored in his own, but there was also a deep sadness that made your chest tighten.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 10

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs

[inkedinshadows]

On the Wings of Freedom

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel is flying back home to his mate.

Warnings: none

Word count: 770

@azrielappreciationweek

Azriel banked left, catching the air current as he soared higher in the sky, leaving the Illyrian steppes behind. The wind was cool on his face, almost cold under the morning sun, but it didn’t bother him. Winter in Illyria was when the cold became truly harsh, and he’d land with a red nose and rosy cheeks.

Winnowing back to Velaris would have been faster, but Azriel needed the two hours of flight to clear his mind after spending a whole week in Windhaven. Flying helped—it always brought him a much-needed sense of freedom that nothing else could match.

Still, he couldn’t wait to be home with his family.

He flapped his wings, rising higher as the wood below gave way to the mountains. It didn’t matter how many times he had seen it, the sight always took his breath away. Perhaps it was because, from up here, it was easy to forget how cold and cruel the world could be. Up here, there was only silence, despite the wind roaring in his ears. It felt distant from everything and everyone, a place where Azriel could let his thoughts run free.

As usual, those thoughts raced to the mate waiting for him at home.

He had missed you over the past week, just as he always did when he had to leave for a few days. It was even harder when he had to shut off his side of the bond, and he couldn’t feel your quiet presence anymore. But now that he was soaring through the sky, the wind at his back carrying him closer to you, he let that wall fall away. He gently tugged on the invisible thread that connected your souls across any distance.

He immediately felt you tug back, sending an overwhelming wave of love down the bond. It warmed his heart so much that he nearly forgot about the cool air whipping against his face and through his hair, and a smile spread across his lips. Azriel responded with his own love, imbued with the happiness of knowing he would see you soon.

He beat his wings, speeding through mountaintops and over valleys, gliding along the currents. If he hurried, he'd be home by lunchtime. He had to debrief with Rhys first, but it shouldn't take long, and then he could share a warm meal with you. He never thought he would come to dislike the silence, but sitting alone at the table every day for a week had made him feel lonely. He wasn't used to it anymore.

With the quiet presence of the bond now glowing faintly in his heart again, his mind finally settled, and Azriel focused entirely on his flight.

The rhythmic beat of his wings and the roaring wind were the only sounds reaching his ears, drowning out even the calls of the birds below. He took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling his lungs and carrying the scent of pine from the forest far beneath him. The sunlight kissed his wings, barely warming the dark membranes as he glided along the current. He could feel every shift in the wind, and he swore that sometimes it seemed to whisper his name, calling to him.

His lips curled in a playful smile as a wild thought crossed his mind. With a sharp flick of his wings, he veered into a steep dive, the wind rushing past him with a deafening roar. His heart pounded, and adrenaline surged through his veins as the earth seemed to race toward him. He waited with bated breath until the very last moment, then snapped his wings wide open, cutting upward with a burst of speed. A soft laugh escaped his throat as he soared higher once more, feeling utterly free and alive.

He needed this, he realized. There were very few things he couldn't live without, and flying was most definitely one of them. Perhaps it was because he had learned later in life, or simply because he was Illyrian and his blood sang for it, but he couldn't fathom a life without the wind in his ears and the infinite expanse of the sky around him.

With a final sweep of his wings, he leveled his flight and let himself savor the pure, unbridled joy of flying, knowing that no matter where life took him, the sky would always call him back. But now, his heart pulled him toward home, where you waited to embrace him once more.

Another kind of joy, another kind of love—but just as strong, and one more thing he could never be without.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[strangled-slytherin]

First Glance

Summary: Theo Nott catches sight of you for the first time. Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader Word Count: 582 Trigger Warnings: None

The first time I saw her, it felt like the world had shifted. I’d been leaning against the wall in the courtyard, a casual observer, half-listening to Draco drone on about some Quidditch match, when she appeared. It wasn’t as though she burst into the scene dramatically or did something to command attention. No, it was subtler than that. She just walked into my line of sight, and suddenly, nothing else existed.

Her hair caught the sunlight just right, casting a soft glow around her face as she laughed at something her friend had said. That sound, her laughter—it cut through the usual noise of Hogwarts like a blade. My chest tightened as I watched her, unaware if it was her laughter or the way her eyes sparkled that caught me first. There was something different about her, something magnetic. She wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, yet she had this way of existing that made everything else seem less important.

I knew who she was, of course. Everyone did. But this was the first time I really saw her. The curve of her lips, the way her hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear absentmindedly, the way she held herself—confident but not showy. I couldn’t explain why, but something in me shifted.

"Are you listening, Theo?" Draco’s voice snapped me back, but my eyes were still on her, following her movements as she walked past. She hadn’t even noticed me, not really. But I noticed her. And that was the beginning.

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to be in the places she was, wanting to know what made her laugh like that, wanting her to notice me in return. It was an odd sensation for someone who’d always prided himself on being indifferent to most things. But not to her. Not anymore.

As she moved farther away, I felt this strange pull, like an invisible thread connecting us even though she hadn't even glanced my way. I told myself it was nothing. Just curiosity, something fleeting, but the way my chest tightened said otherwise.

For the rest of the day, I caught myself looking for her—between classes, in the Great Hall, even when I was supposed to be paying attention during Potions. It was maddening. I didn’t know why she had this effect on me, and it irritated me to no end. I wasn’t the kind of person who got swept up in this kind of thing. But with her… it felt different.

Later, I saw her again, sitting alone in the library, surrounded by books. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she scribbled something in the margins of her notes. For a moment, I just watched her, unnoticed. The way she chewed on the end of her quill when she was thinking, the way she’d pause to push a loose curl out of her face—it was all so painfully ordinary, yet completely captivating.

I moved toward her, my steps slow, uncertain, my usual confidence betraying me for the first time in years. What was I even doing? She hadn’t noticed me yet, and I could have just walked away. Pretended I wasn’t suddenly consumed by thoughts of her.

But then she looked up. Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, the world stopped. There was a flicker of recognition in her gaze, but nothing more. She didn’t know me, not really. Just another Slytherin, just another boy in a sea of faces. Yet, as her gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer than necessary, I felt something stir deep within me.

I nodded, casual, cool—at least, I hoped it looked that way—and walked past her, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stay, to say something. But I didn’t. I just kept walking, heart pounding in my chest like I’d just flown a hundred miles on a broomstick.

As I turned the corner, I glanced back, just for a moment. She was back to her books, oblivious to the fact that she had just completely and utterly upended my world.

[0omillo0]

HAN JISUNG X READER

synopsis: You, Han and Seungmin are friends and roomates. One night you wake up from a bad panic attack but Seungmin is there to rescue you. How is Han going to feel?

The room was pitch dark, and silence pressed heavily on you, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. But inside your head, a storm raged. You were wide awake, heart pounding erratically, breath coming in short, panicked bursts. Your fingers clutched the edge of your blanket tightly as you struggled to ground yourself.

This was how it always started. It felt as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with invisible pressure, the fear bubbling up out of nowhere and consuming you whole. You needed air. You needed space. You needed out.

Without thinking, you pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumbled down the hall toward the kitchen. The soft glow of light from under the door caught you off guard. The apartment was supposed to be asleep, but someone else was awake.

You hesitated at the door, then opened it quietly. Inside, Seungmin was standing by the counter, a glass of water in hand. He turned when he heard you, his brows furrowing as soon as he saw your face.

“Hey…” he said softly, setting his glass down and stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

You forced a weak smile, but even that was shaky. He didn’t need you to answer. Within seconds, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. The warmth of his embrace was a balm against the chaos inside your chest, and you clung to him, letting his steady heartbeat ground you.

“You don’t have to talk,” he whispered, one hand gently rubbing your back. “Just breathe. I’m right here.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the wave of panic start to recede as you focused on the comforting rhythm of Seungmin’s breathing. You had known him for a long time, and he always seemed to know exactly what to do, even when you didn’t know how to ask for help.

“Do you want to sit down?” he asked, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You nodded, and he led you over to the couch, his arm still around your shoulders. You sat down together, and he pulled you close, wrapping the blanket you’d brought around both of you. The world felt smaller here, quieter, as if the darkness was something that could protect you instead of trap you.

You let yourself sink into the comfort of his hold, leaning your head against his chest. Your breathing slowed, the panic slowly dissolving into the warmth of his embrace.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Seungmin just hummed softly, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied. “I’m here for you, always.”

Somehow, in that moment, everything felt okay. The weight of your panic attack had lifted, and you felt safe enough to close your eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking you. In the cocoon of his arms, you drifted into sleep.

You woke up to the faint glow of morning light streaming in through the blinds. For a moment, you were disoriented, the unfamiliar warmth beside you pulling you out of your drowsy haze. Blinking, you realized that you were still on the couch, curled up against Seungmin. He was awake, scrolling through his phone with his other arm still draped around you, holding you close.

“Good morning,” he said with a soft smile as he noticed you stir.

“Morning,” you replied, feeling a bit shy as you pulled away and stretched. “Did you stay here all night?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to leave you alone.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at his words, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you. I really mean it.”

Seungmin gave you a gentle, reassuring look before standing up. “Anytime,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

As Seungmin headed to his room, you stood and stretched, making your way toward the kitchen to make some coffee. But as you turned the corner, you froze.

Han was there, standing by the counter with his back to you. He didn’t turn around when you entered, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he gripped his coffee mug tightly.

“Morning,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice light, but he barely responded, giving only a faint nod before brushing past you to leave the room.

You watched him go, confusion settling in the pit of your stomach. Han wasn’t acting like himself at all. Usually, he was the first to greet you in the morning, full of energy and silly jokes. Today, he had barely even looked at you.

The day dragged on with Han avoiding you and Seungmin, answering in short, clipped sentences when either of you tried to talk to him. His usual warmth was replaced with a cold distance, and you couldn’t understand why.

By the time the sun was setting, you felt as though the weight of his silence was crushing you. After dinner, you found him in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and approached him.

“Han,” you called softly, watching as he turned to look at you, his expression guarded. “Can we talk?”

He looked away, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”

“Yes, there is,” you insisted, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, and I don’t know why. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looked away again, his shoulders sagging. “I saw you and Seungmin this morning,” he said quietly.

The realization hit you like a wave. “Oh… Han, I—”

“I didn’t know you two were… like that,” he interrupted, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I thought maybe I had a chance, you know?”

You took a step closer, reaching for his hand, but he didn’t move. “It’s not like that. Han, last night, I had a panic attack. Seungmin was just helping me calm down. He stayed with me because I was scared. That’s all.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of dishonesty. You could see the uncertainty and vulnerability in his gaze, and it made your heart ache. “You don’t have to explain—”

“Yes, I do,” you cut him off, your voice firm. “Because I like you, Han. I’ve liked you for a long time, and I didn’t know how to tell you. Last night wasn’t what you think, but I want it to be you who’s there for me.”

His face softened, a glimmer of hope sparking in his eyes. “You mean that?”

You nodded, your heart racing as you squeezed his hand. “Yes. I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until I saw how hurt you were. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you didn’t have a chance. I was just… scared to say anything.”

Han took a step closer, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “But I didn’t want to ruin what we had. Seeing you with him… it made me realize that I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth blossom in your chest as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently along your skin. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself anymore,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

In that moment, Han closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender, gentle kiss. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as if he never wanted to let go. The hurt and confusion from the day melted away, replaced by the quiet certainty of finally being where you were meant to be.

When you pulled back, Han rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Next time, come to me,” he murmured, his voice filled with a gentle warmth. “I want to be the one you lean on.”

You nodded, your heart full as you wrapped your arms around him. “I promise.”

Together, you made your way back into the living room, where Seungmin was sprawled on the couch, his phone in hand. He looked up, raising an eyebrow as he took in the sight of you and Han holding hands.

“So, did you two finally work things out?” he asked with a smirk.

You felt your cheeks warm as Han let out a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, I think we did,” he replied, squeezing your hand.

Seungmin just grinned, shaking his head. “Took you long enough.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your closest friends, you felt a deep sense of peace settle over you. You had finally found your place, right where you belonged.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt#148 Part 3

It had been a few weeks since Danny got back to Amity park and he was still a little nervous to text Damian.

He could tell Damian was getting a little nervous and impatient with how slow he was taking to respond.

That and every time he felt like he had a moment, something like another ghost attack would happen. That and the GIW announced their campaign to enact something they called the Anti Ecto acts, effectively making his existence illegal. 

“Get back here ghost scum!” His mom shouted at him. Danny dodged an ectoblast as he flew away. His parents had been very persistent about catching him lately. If he was being honest it worried him a little.

Danny landed in his empty living room and changed back. Before he could do anything, the door to the lab bursts open and Danny’s dad is standing there with an ectogun pointed at Danny. 

“I knew those security cameras would come in handy” he boasted as he turned the dial up on the gun, “I hope those acts get passed, ghost scum!!”

Danny, fearing for his life, fled the house changing back into Phantom. He headed to where he knew was a small abandoned house with an emergency bag but before he could make it he felt a sharp pain in his side. 

His Dad was known to be a poor shot but not his Mom, and as he looked back at her piercing eyes he knew exactly what shot at him. “Get back here Imposter!” She shouted after him.

Danny turned invisible and made his way unseen. 

He got to the  abandoned house shortly after and found the emergency bag. He shakily wrapped his side with a bandage and used his ectoplasm to reform his suit. He took a few calming breaths before he stood up and put the backpack on his back. 

 He wasn’t sure how but he was going to find his soulmate and tell him everything. He hated how his parents reacted and he didn’t think he could handle if the same thing happened but he needed to know. 

He spent the next few hours flying and before he knew it he was in Gotham. 

Landing on a roof Danny took a few moments to catch his breath. He put pressure on his side and laid his head back on the side of the stairwell leading down. 

He changed back into his human form and unfortunately that meant he needed to re-bandage the wound in his side. 

Once that was done he packaged everything back up in his bag and brought out his phone. 

He could tell Damian was getting worried about him, the shock and betrayal Danny was feeling was something he couldn’t really control or hide.

He sighed and let his head thump against the wall behind him.

He should probably just call Damian but how exactly he’d explain about everything that just happened… but that would mean telling him the other things too and he just didn’t know if he had the courage for that just yet. He took another deep breath and then opened his eyes to see the smog covered skies. That was one bad thing about Gotham, no stars. 

He then took another deep breath and stood up and walked near the edge of the roof and looked down. 

He was way up probably 7-8 or so stories high. The cars down below go about their daily lives giving no mind to the kid on the roof way up high. 

He watched for a few minutes mulling things over. Then he heard a soft thump behind him. He turned around and found Nightwing had landed on the roof. 

“It’s dangerous up here, would you mind stepping away from the ledge?” He said but there was an edge to his voice like he was genuinely scared Danny might do something. He guessed the vigilante’s in this city really cared about its citizens. 

“Don’t worry I wasn’t going to jump or anything, just trying to clear my head…” Danny tried making his tone as even as possible. The wound in his side throbbed painfully and made it a little hard for him to concentrate. Whatever Mom hit him with did more than just singe his side. 

Unfortunately Nightwing seemed to have noticed Danny was in pain, “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

The word hospital rang out in his head for a moment before he realized that wasn’t exactly an option, “Yeah, no… I’ll be fine, I just got to figure out exactly what I need to text my soulmate… I’ve been procrastinating because he seems like an amazing person and I kind of hate to admit I’m kind of a failure that ran from home.” Danny forgot who he was talking to for a moment as he rambled. It felt nice to finally let some of what’s been bothering him out. He took a calming breath before continuing, “I can’t risk them calling my parents.” 

“Alright well, unfortunately you're not in Gotham just yet, we’re in Bludhaven. Can you tell me what their name is?”

Great so Danny can’t even fly to the right city. He took another calming breath, “Damian Wayne.”

Master Post:

Last:

[yanderecrazysie]

MIRROR, MIRROR

“Who is the fairest of them all?”

Pairings: Yandere! Vil Schoenheit x Female! Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, technically stepcest (but not focused on), suicide

Note: I randomly wanted to write this, and it’s very long compared to most of my works.

Vil Schoenheit glided down the long hallway, the heels of his shoes clicking against the marble floors as he hurried to his destination. He paid no mind to the town outside his grand windows, many stories below. It was insignificant compared to him.

He entered a dark room at the end of the hall, his cape swirling behind him as he spun around and drew the double doors closed. The room darkened even further with the absence of the hallway lighting, but Vil made no move to turn on the light. Slowly, a soft purplish glow began to brighten the room, emitted from a mirror on the wall opposite the doors.

The mirror was ornate, with curved, flowery metal sculptures curling from the mirror’s base to the edges of the wall. The glass shimmered and became cloudy, almost as if puffs of smoke had filled the room, but only on the other side of the reflection. Vil waited impatiently as a face came into focus. 

The face was a strange one, almost like a floating comedy/tragedy mask. Its initial frown curled into a smile upon seeing Vil, tilting its head in a small bow, “Your Highness, how may I assist you?”

When Vil spoke, his voice was confident and cold, as though he’d said this a million times before, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

The mirror’s smile widened, “Why, you, of course, dear King.”

Vil smiled victoriously and turned around, leaving the strange dark room behind in an instant, bursting out of the double doors and entering the hallway once more. The mirror man’s expression faltered for a moment, as though doubt had consumed him for a moment, before he melded into the fog of the mirror. Quickly, the smoke in the reflection disbursed, returning to look like an ordinary mirror just as the doors banged shut behind the king.

This time, Vil turned his attention to the town below, a smirk curling on his lips as his lavender eyes focused on a figure in the town square.

“Still not enough to surpass me, Neige,” Vil snickered. He brushed the invisible dust off of his robes and continued down the hall.

—-----------------------------

“Have you drawn the water, Neige?” you asked, standing up from where you had been using the washboard to wash dark blue, priceless robes.

“Of course, sis!” Neige smiled with closed eyes, lifting the water bucket effortlessly. You smiled back at your brother, despite the stinging of your hands and the aching of your knees from kneeling for so long.

Neige took a seat in the dirt next to the washing tub and reached for the soaking robes, “Still cleaning Vil’s clothing?”

“It never seems to end,” you sighed, kneeling back down. 

Your brother took your hand and pulled it away from the washboard, “Sis, please, we officially turn eighteen in a few minutes.”

You shrugged, “What’s so special about birthdays anymore? Ever since Mom died…” Your voice became choked and died on your tongue. Tears threatening to fall, you turned away and pulled up the corner of your ragged sleeve to wipe furiously at your eyes.

The two of you were wearing rags sewn together and you were buried in endless chores, all while Vil lived a lavish life with a mountain of wealth that your mother, the queen, had left behind after her mysterious death. A death you had no doubt was at Vil’s hand, although sweet, sweet Neige suspected nothing of the man who had married his mother just a few short months before her demise.

“I saw the most beautiful girl when I was drawing water,” Neige sighed dreamily, “She sang the most wonderful song and her voice… it was so beautiful.”

You shook your head, but couldn’t hide your smile. If your brother, a sweet boy with his head in the clouds, found his love, you would support him. He deserved love more than anyone else you knew.

Neige began to draw in the dirt with his index finger and a rudimentary cake with a few candles took shape. He smiled innocently at you, “Blow out the candles, sis!”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling, and blew a gust of air at the dusty cake. Your breath was so strong that it blew away most of the cake’s shape and both you and your brother burst into laughter.

Laughter had become so unfamiliar to you- you weren’t sure of the last time you laughed. Neige’s laugh was like tinkling bells, as perfect as he was. Even though Vil kept him out of the spotlight and forced him to wear rags, he still caught the attention of beautiful girls and his kind nature shone through- more beautiful than Vil could ever hope to be, in your opinion.

—--------------------------------------------------

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” Vil’s voice was as confident and cold as the day before. 

There was a silence that fell over the room as the man in the mirror lost his smile, “I must warn you, dear King, that there have been changes…”

“What kind of changes?” An edge sneaked into Vil’s voice as he demanded to know, “Who is the fairest of them all?”

“Neige LeBlanche is the fairest in all the land,” the mirror said reluctantly, as if it knew what this information would do.

Vil’s eyes were wild when he slammed a fist against the mirror, making the face inside it cower in fear, “Neige has surpassed me? Me?”

Vil dragged a hand across his face in disbelief. He had thought… keeping Neige in rags… even in rags, that boy had surpassed him?

“At least I’m the second fairest, right?” Vil practically begged the mirror, “Tell me it’s only Neige who threatens my beauty.”

The face in the mirror grimaced. 

Vil lost it then, “Who is it then? Who else is more beautiful than I am? Who the hell could it possibly be?”

“(Y/n) LeBlanche is the second fairest in all the land.”

Vil stared at the mirror blankly, rage giving way to confusion, “Who is that? Certainly not that mousy girl?”

“She has become more and more beautiful with time,” the mirror replied.

Vil lifted a painted thumbnail to his lips and worried it between his teeth. He had barely paid the daughter of the queen a second glance, always worried about Neige as his growing competition.

The king sighed. He’d have to find a way to get rid of them both. What a shame it was, to have to kill both children. What a shame it was, even more, that anyone dared to compete with his beauty.

He stepped back into the hallway, a shadow of rage crossing his face as he stormed his way to the throne room. Maids threw themselves out of the way, never having seen their handsome ruler this angry before and not wanting him to turn his wrath onto them.

Vil took a seat on the throne- the only place that truly calmed him. Yet, it had no calming effect today. He raised his pale hands and clapped them together twice. Immediately, three workers materialized, kneeling in front of him, waiting for his orders.

The king tilted his chin upwards, peering down at the worthless staff. It made him feel so much taller to sit upon the throne and a cruel smile made its way across his face.

“Bring me Rook Hunt.”

—----------------------------------------

“I don’t trust him,” you whispered to your brother. Neige sent you a disappointed look, as though you might offend the strange man leading you deeper into the woods.

He was an eccentric man, that much you could tell. He was strange- he walked strange, talked strange, looked strange. But your brother would never suspect a robber of thievery, so it was up to you.

“A baby bird!” Neige’s voice startled you, since you were so on edge. Your eyes softened at the sight of a soft-feathered tiny bird chirping helplessly on the ground. You looked up and spotted a nest of sticks and leaves in the tree branch above.

“Poor thing, let me help you,” you cooed, reaching down and gently scooping the little creature off the grass. Holding it cupped in one hand, you wrapped your other arm around the trunk and began climbing the tree.

You risked a look back at Neige and you let out a scream. 

The strange man’s knife stopped millimeters from the back of Neige’s skull. He looked as though he were struggling with himself. As Neige turned around to see what had frightened you, his face went pale and he stumbled backwards, falling over a rock and crashing into the ground, chest heaving in terror as the strange man loomed over him with a long, jagged knife.

You dumped the chick unceremoniously into its nest with its siblings and jumped down from the tree, “Don’t you dare touch him!”

The bob-cut haired man lowered his head, “I cannot, even if I wanted to.” He sheathed the knife on hip and reached a hand out to Neige, who remained frozen on the ground, eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

“Who are you?” you demanded, “What are you doing, trying to kill my brother?”

“Your father…” The stranger began.

“Vil is not our father,” you snapped immediately.

“Fine. The king wants you both dead- his jealousy is unmatched. Yet, I cannot kill someone as kind as you two,” his eyes misted over, “I cannot kill either of you.”

You were shocked- you had never liked Vil and you knew he killed your mother, but you hadn’t expected this. He really thought he’d just make do with the LeBlanche family entirely, didn’t he? Well, you wouldn’t let him!

“Run!” you yelled at Neige, surprised by how loud your own scream was, “Get up and run!”

The strange man watched as you dragged Neige to his feet and the two of you disappeared into the woods. He turned around and laid a hand over the box the king had given him, tucked into his breast pocket. 

He pulled the knife back out of its sheath and headed off to the market. He would not bring the king either LeBlanche heart, but maybe a goat’s heart would fool him…

Meanwhile, you dragged Neige deeper and deeper into the forest, panic pumping adrenaline into your veins. You didn’t know where you were going and the plants seemed to grow crueller as you lost your way. 

Branches like clawed hands reached out for you, grabbing on your rags and tearing your clothing when you violently leapt back from them. And were those logs in the lake or alligators? They did seem to be making their way closer to you both, eyeing you as their next meal…

You were panicking now, breath coming in short gasps and heart pounding against your ribcage. You were running low on energy too, struggling to continue pulling on Neige, who had gone nearly-limp with shock.

“Wait!” Neige gasped. You stopped suddenly and your legs gave out, causing the two of you to crash into the tall grass. 

“What?” you asked raggedly.

“That bird, I think it wants us to follow it,” Neige said with the utmost sincerity.

You stared at him. Had he hit his head? Then again, a bright bluebird circled just barely above the treetops, as though it were waiting for you to stand back up and follow it.

“I think it’s thanking us for returning its baby,” Neige continued. You were still considering the fact that he may have lost his mind, but it couldn’t be worse than rampaging through the woods.

The two of you stood and began following the bluebird, both of you still shaking in fear. The trees thinned out, and the grass seemed to grow lighter, the sun shining more through these treetops.

“A cottage!” Neige pointed down at the bottom of a steep incline. Sure enough, a quaint cottage stood between two willow trees. 

“Do you think whoever lives here will let us stay?” you asked quietly.

“Only one way to find out,” Neige shrugged.

—--------------------------------

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” Vil asked confidently, a smirk curling at his lips.

“Although your beauty is great,” came the mirror’s response, “Neige and (Y/n)’s beauty is greater.”

“WHAT?” Vil screamed, hands balling into fists, “They are no more! Rook brought me their hearts!”

The mirror responded by swirling into a scene of Rook leading you and Neige deep into the woods. Vil could see the doubt on Rook’s face from a mile away, and he let out a growl. “I don’t trust him,” came a pretty voice. For the first time, Vil allowed himself to look at you- really look at you.

The mirror hadn’t lied- you really had become beautiful. You were no longer the little girl crying at your mother’s bedside. You were a gorgeous young woman with a steely look of determination in your eyes. Vil watched, transfixed as you turned your back on Rook, even though you were suspicious of him, in order to help a helpless baby bird. He shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his head. “Skip past the part where that gutless idiot fails to kill them. Show me where they are now.”

The mirror shimmered and the image of a cottage swam in its reflection, before it showed a happy scene of you and Neige dancing around with a few small men. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your form, your smile, and your graceful movements.

He swallowed, “Ah, the dwarves’ cottage in the woods. They’ll be easy to find.” Somehow, he found it hard to be excited when he thought of what he was about to do.

—---------------------------------------------------

The longer Vil watched you in the mirror, the harder he began to fall for you. He told himself he was just waiting for the dwarves to leave for the mines, that he was just waiting for the chance to destroy you… but in reality, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

So when he stood across from you, in full magical disguise as an old man, he was trembling a little with desire. He could just reach out and touch you… But what would you say? You would just think he was a creepy old man, and that’s not how he wanted to come across right now.

“Can we help you?” you asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I was wondering who lived in this quaint little cottage,” Vil made his voice quaver, looking at you as innocently as possible.

“You seem familiar, somehow,” your eyes narrowed, “Who are you again?”

Neige appeared behind you and Vil held back a smirk, “Here, why don’t I talk with the man of the house.”

You looked offended but threw your hands in the air, “Whatever! Neige, he wants to speak with you.”

You disappeared into the house and Vil forced back the smirk even harder. This was perfect. He reached into his basket and pulled out an apple, shining red and delicious-looking. “If you show me the way back to town, I’ll give you one of my apples.”

Neige shook his head, “I’ll show you back to town, but you don’t need to give me anything in return.”

“I insist,” Vil’s eyes shone.

—--------------------------------------------------

“NEIGE!” your scream was like music to Vil’s ears. You ran over to your collapsed brother, pulling him off the ground to look at him. You looked up at Vil, who had transformed back to his normal self, “What did you do to him?”

Vil smiled down at you, having decided long ago what to do with you.

“I can bring him back from the dead,” Vil said calmly, “I know the one thing that can bring him back.”

“How?” you demanded, tears starting to spill over your round cheeks, “How do I bring him back.”

“First, you must do one thing,” Vil said, kneeling down to where you clutched your brother, “Marry me.”

“I’d rather die!” you screamed. You spotted the apple still clutched in Neige’s lifeless hand and snatched it, “This is what you used, didn’t you?”

“Don’t touch that,” Vil snapped.

It was too late, you had shoved the apple in your mouth and taken a huge bite. To his horror, you slumped, lifeless, over your twin brother’s body. 

“N-no, you wouldn’t really do that, would you?” Vil laughed shakily, “You’re pretending to make me give up the secret.”

You didn’t respond. Move. Breathe.

“Okay, you got me,” Vil’s voice went up an octave, “It’s true love’s kiss. He has a girl he loves, so we just have to find her and…”

Tears ran down his cheeks as he frantically shook your body, “Please wake up, please, I’m sorry!”

He turned you over and a thought occurred to him. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. But still, they remained cold and blue, there was no gasp of life and fluttering of the eyelids like there should have been.

Of course there wasn’t.

You’d never love him.

—--------------------------------------

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

“You, Vil Schoenheit, are the fairest in all the land.”

Vil sank to the ground, grief consuming him entirely.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Jealousy | Jisung

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Warnings: Slight suggestion

just a short little drabble i wrote per request! hope you enjoy sunshine <3!!

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Jisung’s eyes burned with an unfamiliar fire as he watched you from across the room. The gathering at Chan’s apartment was supposed to be a casual hangout, but for Jisung, it had turned into a slow torture. Every time he looked your way, you were laughing with someone else, your attention pulled in every direction but his. And tonight, it was Hyunjin who seemed to be the focus of your smiles.

You were seated on the couch, too close to Hyunjin for Jisung’s liking, sharing some inside joke that made your eyes crinkle at the corners. The sight of you leaning into Hyunjin, your hand playfully resting on his arm, sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Jisung’s chest.

His grip tightened around the drink in his hand, the plastic cup crumpling slightly under the pressure. He knew he had no right to feel this way—you weren’t his. But that didn’t stop the jealousy from simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

When Hyunjin leaned in closer, whispering something in your ear that made you burst out laughing, Jisung couldn’t take it anymore. His emotions, raw and unchecked, surged forward, clouding his judgment. Without thinking, he downed the rest of his drink and stood up abruptly, storming out of the room.

You noticed his sudden departure and frowned, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you followed him down the hallway, where you found him leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Jisung?” you called out softly, approaching him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “Nothing’s wrong,” he muttered, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Don’t lie to me,” you pressed, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting strange all night. Did I do something?”

Jisung let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Did you do something? You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He looked at you, his gaze intense, almost accusing. “The way you’re always around him. The way you laugh at his jokes, the way you touch his arm like it’s nothing. It drives me crazy.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in. “Jisung… are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” he repeated, his voice rising. “Yeah, I’m jealous. I’ve been jealous for a long time, but you’re too busy with everyone else to even notice.”

You were taken aback by the raw emotion in his voice. “I didn’t realize…”

“Of course you didn’t,” he snapped, pushing off the wall and pacing the narrow hallway. “I’ve been trying to get your attention, but all you ever see is him—or anyone but me.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, but he cut you off.

“Then why do I feel like I’m invisible when you’re around?” he demanded sadly, his frustration spilling over. “Why do I feel like nothing I do matters to you?”

The intensity of his words left you speechless. You had no idea he felt this way, that his feelings ran so deep. All this time, you thought you were just friends, that his playful banter and teasing were nothing more than that. But now, seeing the pain in his eyes, you realized there was so much more beneath the surface.

“Jisung…” You reached out, your hand gently brushing against his arm, trying to calm him down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought you couldn't ever see me in that way.”

He looked at you, his expression softening slightly, but the hurt was still there. “It doesn’t matter now,” he muttered, turning away.

“No, it does,” you insisted, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. “I love and care about you, Jisung. I just… I didn’t realize how much until recently. I haven't been knowing how to cope with that...”

His eyes met yours, searching for the truth in your words. “You care about me?”

“I do,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “More than you realize. And… I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important to me. It's the complete opposite.”

For a moment, the tension between you hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Then, with a shaky breath, Jisung spoke. "Yeah right," He stated pushing past you, but you stopped him with as much force as you could, pushing at his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as he winced in pain.

"Ji- oh my gosh are you okay?" You fretted, as he reached for his shirt, pulling it away from himself slightly. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm just a bit sore, it's okay."

"Why?" You continued to fret. "Why are you sore? Did something happen?"

He shook his head and let out a quiet laugh. "I got a tattoo." He unbuttoned his shirt slightly, and you saw the fresh ink.

"What… what does it mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as you looked at the word staring back at you. You reached out.

Jisung shuddered at your touch, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he answered. “It’s a reminder. Of what matters to me, what's been given to me, what I want...but can't necessarily have.” His eyes opened to look at you.

Your heart ached at his words, understanding now that this tattoo wasn’t just a piece of art—it was a symbol of his unspoken feelings for you, of the pain he’d been carrying all this time. As you continued to trace the tattoo, your touch became more deliberate, more intimate.

“You can have it,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “You can have me, Jisung.”

His eyes snapped back open, locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice raw, almost desperate.

“I’m sure,” you replied, your hand moving from his chest to cup his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “I want you, Jisung. I’m not blind anymore.”

The vulnerability in your voice, the sincerity in your words—it was all Jisung needed to hear. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and tender. It was a release of all the pent-up emotions, the longing, the jealousy, the fear of losing you.

You kissed him back with just as much fervor, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as if afraid you might slip away. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate, more intense, as the weight of everything unsaid finally fell away.

His hands trailed there way up to your face, as he pulled you closer than you thought humanly possible, as if he was trying to merge your physical beings, just as he was trying to merge your souls.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. The hallway was quiet, the only sound was the rapid beating of your hearts and uneven breaths as your chests rose and fell in a recipricatory rhythm.

“Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to me,” you whispered, your fingers gently tracing the tattoo once more. He shuddered once more, and your mind wandered to the thought of what exactly you made him feel. What you could make him feel. “You’re everything to me.”

He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile that made your heart swell. He laughed as he attached his lips to yours once more in a messy fashion. “I better be jagi, 'cause I don't know if I can handle being jealous."

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