#Simple Screen Recorder

[siennaditbot]

Cyno vs Sethos duel slowed down!

Could probably be done on YouTube already but I realized that too late and thought why not have a slowed down version on demand anyway. I need to see them moves properly lol

Aaaanyway, epic animation n stuff but difficult to appreciate when it moves so fast. Hope this helps!

[distantlaughter]

Le Iene fix your stupid video player so I can watch this stupid del Piero Pippo interview that I won’t understand because I don’t speak ITALIAN

[sh5]

HELP YOU CAN FEEL MY STUNNED SILENCE

[sculien]

it's always when im in the mood to gif when the main website i use to download goes down AND the one episode i want takes 500 years to torrent (i gave up)

[haxo-wolfie]

where do you get clips for creature commandos? the website where I watch the show, doesn't have "download episodes" button

not even joking when i say this, but i literally just screen record them using obs LOL

[wwinterwitch]

friendly banter — bucky barnes

summary: sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (+ platonic friendships with sam and joaquín)

word count: 5k

tags: friends to lovers, sharing feelings (awkward but cute), reader is a hacker and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fluff, undisclosed feelings (mutual), kissing

note: this was kind of a mess but i'm back after a long time on not writing any fics! i'm currently in my last months of studying to become a lawyer (yay) and writing fics has proven to be very therapeutic during this time. this may or may not suck but i enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy it

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 2 (features the thunderbolts* now)

"Got eyes on it?"

You stop walking as soon as you hear that question, staring ahead in disbelief. "You mean...the huge panel in the middle of the room?" you ask with obvious sarcasm, trying to speak as quietly as possible through your comm as you make your way further inside the darkened room.

It’s a typical security room with tons of cameras pointing to every corner of the building. To your relief, the presence of your group is apparently still unnoticed as your eyes wander across the various screens in front of you, noticing no commotion or an unnecessarily large group of unfriendly-looking guys rushing to find you. The large panel control installed in the middle of the desk before you is the thing that immediately gets your attention as you walk closer, always keeping in mind the task at hand.

All you really have to do is hack into the system to disable the security protocols long enough for Sam and Joaquín to sneak into the top floors of the building to retrieve the data that they wanted from the bad guy's records in order to find out more about the gang they'll be (hopefully) putting behind bars soon.

This is not the first and definitely not the last time you'll be doing these kinds of favors for Sam. Your friendship goes way back, when you were still a nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. that somehow managed to get on Captain America's good graces after that whole Washington fiasco. You're still unsure why Steve always thought so highly of you. Then again, he was the type of guy who never failed to see the potential in other people, even when they couldn't quite see it themselves.

Now, you get to help the new Captain America, who's also as dear to you as the previous one was...perhaps just a tiny bit more annoying, but one of your dearest friends regardless.

As you rush over to the panel, you have to jump over the unconscious body of a security guard that Bucky (another dear friend you met thanks to Steve) took care of before you walked inside, quickly taking a seat in front of the large keyboard to start doing your part of the job.

You hear the unmistakable chuckle from Joaquín as you quickly type in a series of codes and commands. "Jeez, I missed having you on our missions!"

"Awwh!" you mutter with genuine endearment. "I missed being part of these missions too, buddy!"

"And we're still going out for drinks after this, right?"

"Are you genuinely asking me that, Joaquín Torres?" you ask, sounding overly offended on purpose.

You hear him laugh again, but before he can say anything back, you hear Bucky interrupting the exchange. "How about we focus on not getting caught here and then you guys can discuss your night plans?"

"Uh-oh, old man got upset," you joke soon after, finishing to type in the last few codes to fully disable the security system. Surely they have some backup protocol that would soon trigger the alarm to alert these guys of an unwanted visitor, but by then all of you will be long gone. It really is a very simple mission.

"He's jealous you're not taking him out for drinks," Sam jokes back, and then you immediately hear Joaquín agreeing with him.

It's a normal occurrence for Sam to be making those kinds of jokes involving you and Bucky. He has been making those types of remarks for as long as you can remember, fully convinced the two of you "have something going on" as he has put it before. You really try not to think too much about it because, first off, Sam loves to say shit just for the sake of pissing you and Bucky off and, second...you really don't want to let those comments get to your head.

You don't want to let yourself wonder about the what if's of that. There was a time in your life when you did allow yourself to fantasize about the possibility of actually "having something going on" with him, but you learnt to shut off that part of your brain in order to avoid getting your hopes up regarding a situation that just wouldn't happen outside your imagination. Hearing Sam’s silly remarks would only bring you back to those days.

Bucky has been one of your best friends for years and he has never shown the slightest of hints that he might be interested in you in the way you would like (at least not that you're aware of), and there was absolutely no way that you would ever make the first move and risk embarrassing yourself in front of him or, even worse, losing the friendship you two have. You eventually just got comfortable in the abyss of eternal friendzone and learned to accept it. If there was ever going to happen something between the two of you, surely it would've happened by now.

Still, Sam seems to be holding onto that rope for dear life and refuses to let it go. You can't deny it’s a bit uncomfortable to hear those jokes though. They somehow make you feel like somehow you got caught and everyone knows you have a secret crush on Bucky, but you've learned to adapt over the years.

"First part's done.” Leaning back on the chair, you watch the percentage bar on the screen before you, completely ignoring Sam's little joke. "A few more seconds and you're up guys!"

"Hallway’s clear," you hear Bucky say, still guarding the room where you're currently in. "How much time do we have to get out of here?"

"Uh...I can't say for sure. Anywhere near five to thirty, maybe?"

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

"Oh, great," he mutters ironically.

"Well, I'm sorry. We're hacking into a very sophisticated system that I don't entirely know how it works!" you snap back at him. "Besides, the whole point of this is to give Joaquín and Sam enough time to sneak inside without having to deal with a bunch of guards going straight for them. Bad guys will know we're down here and they'll come looking for us first."

"Isn't hacking your whole thing? How do you not know how it works?" he asks, and just by the tone of his voice you know he's trying to piss you off, because he knows that's exactly the type of comments that would make you upset. If that type of comment came from a stranger you would be strangling them right now, but it’s Bucky, and he seems to enjoy annoying the shit out of you.

"Big talk coming from someone who still asks for my help because he barely knows how to unlock his own phone."

The sound of his faint chuckle immediately makes you smile, perfectly picturing the way he's probably rolling his eyes just barely right now, trying to suppress a smirk as if you could possibly see him right now, knowing he hates when you point it out to him.

"You have to give me some credit, though. I know how to program emails on that thing now. Soon enough I'll be taking your job, so you better watch out."

You can't help but laugh at his reply, slightly shaking your head as you realize you’re getting distracted by him, trying to keep your focus on what you're supposed to be doing right now rather than indulge in a never ending back-and-forth with him. As soon as you type the last codes and the large SECURITY SYSTEM: DISABLED alert pops on the monitor, you quickly rise up from your seat. "You're up guys, hurry!"

"On it!" Sam replies as you rush outside the room.

Before he even says anything to you, Bucky is quickly guiding you down the hallway with the intent of getting out of there as soon as possible, turning to look at you with a confused expression when you stop walking and, instead, start yanking his arm to go in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?"

"The exit is that way," you point out as if it’s obvious.

He looks even more confused now, and slightly annoyed. "Don't think so. That's the way we entered, but there's another way of leaving this place a lot faster."

"No, we can't change the plan!"

He definitely looks annoyed now, trying not to snap at you. "I'm not changing the plan. Exiting that way has always been the plan. If we go that way, we'll-"

Before he can say anything else, the loud sound of an alarm blasts through the entire building, signaling that you've been discovered and you'll be having company very soon. As if that wasn't enough, the door of the room you were previously in opens violently, and the guard that was previously unconscious on the floor is frantically alerting more people through his radio.

“Oh, that’s great,” you point out, slightly panicking right now because you’re still inside the building. “You decided to wake up early, huh?”

Bucky immediately grabs the guy by his bulletproof vest to throw him against the wall, taking his barely regained consciousness to his advantage. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice about six other guys coming towards you, turning around the same corner you wanted to run towards as part of your escape plan. Sadly, that's when you realized maybe the direction Bucky was suggesting was better.

You’re unsure of what to do now. It's not like you haven't been taught how to take down a few bad guys, but your specialities have always involved computers rather than physical combat. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky turns towards you for a quick second. "Go! I'll catch up to you." Again, almost as if he knew that you'd try to ask if he was sure about it, he immediately shouts yet another "Go!" before you're finally deciding to do as he says, running down the hall in the direction he has intended to go before.

Hours later, second after second that passes by, you’re more and more convinced that you'll never hear the end of it. If only you could go back in time and just agree with Bucky's plan rather than trying to argue with him. It would have spared you a lifetime of him reminding you how he was right and you were wrong.

Turns out his exit plan was the one you should've followed all along, because it actually led to the engine room which immediately meant being in a much less crowded part of the building to escape without risking bumping into more people.

All of you had enough time to change into something more comfortable to go out for drinks. Initially it was something you and Joaquín had planned alone, but evidently the two of you didn’t hesitate to invite Sam and Bucky. Of course they accepted the invite, and of course Bucky has done his very best to keep reminding you of your little mistake.

"Listen, if you don't want shit like that to happen again, just let me know your plan beforehand."

"But I did let you know. The problem is that someone is not really a good listener."

"No. Letting me know- like, properly letting me know, would've been telling me before we got inside that building."

Bucky smirks as he leans back on his chair, and it's obvious to you he's really enjoying this banter. "Plan changed at the last minute. If you would've just followed my lead, we could've left that building a lot faster."

"Ah, so you do recognize that wasn't the original plan!" you exclaim with a triumphant grin, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You changed it all by yourself and didn't tell me."

"Changed at the last minute," he repeats, as if to correct you. "You wanted me to stand there and explain every detail to you?"

"Oh, as if explaining it would've taken you hours! You’re always so dramatic."

"Children," Sam commented, interrupting the banter with an unamused expression. "I had to trust the operation to literal children."

Bucky scoffs at that comment, watching as Sam lets out a chuckle, shaking his head after witnessing this whole interaction between the two of you.

"Kinda makes you appreciate having an actual professional around, huh?" Joaquín says right after, flashing a charming smile in Sam's direction.

"Oh, please!" you, Bucky and Sam reply in unison, earning an offended look from Joaquín.

Soon after, Bucky is speaking again. "You know what? I'll give you some credit. You managed to do your part of the job…decently."

It’s obvious he wants a reaction from you, but even if your banter is entertaining, you know you can't keep bickering the entire night. Once again, you can’t help but to feel embarrassed, as if everyone at that table knows your little secret regarding your feelings towards Bucky. As if some innocent banter between friends could ever give it away. Besides, the four of you are here to celebrate your mission was a success, and the fact that you haven't seen the trio in a long time makes it the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Pretending to fully ignore his last comment, you turn to look at Sam from across the table. "You. I haven't seen your lovely face in a while," you start, watching him physically get ready for whatever silly comment you might come up with. "Tell me what you've been up to...I've seen the photos of you shaking hands with the President," the reference to Everett Ross sounding anything but endearing.

Sam sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I guess you can say it's part of the job," he simply replies before taking a quick sip of his beer. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but I figured it's best to compromise a bit and keep the man happy. As long as he stays in line, I'll cooperate."

"Of course you're not thrilled about it, Sam. That's the same guy that put your ass in a prison in the middle of nowhere like you were some kind of top security criminal!" you reply almost immediately, still in disbelief at the revelation of any sort of alliance between him and Ross. Sam's expression lets you know that even he is still conflicted about it, not really knowing what to say. After taking a brief pause, you try to say something else to lighten the mood, not wanting him to think like you’re judging him for it. "Hey, I understand having to keep up appearances. I get it. And please accept my deepest condolences for having to deal with that piece of shit."

Your last comment makes the three of them laugh, and Bucky takes the opportunity to change the subject. "And what have you been up to?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. "It's been a while since any of us has seen you."

"Well, my life has been all over the place the last few months. As all of you know, I moved into a new apartment. I loved my roommate, but I felt it was time to just live by myself, you know?"

"So no plans of leaving New York to move to D.C., huh?" Joaquín asks with a smile.

You return the smile immediately. "As fun as it would be to live closer to all of you weirdos, no. I plan to stay in New York for now. I'm just really comfortable there with the new apartment, the promotion I got a few months ago, the fact that most of my family and friends are there..."

"But not all your friends," Sam quickly points out, pretending to sound incredibly offended by your last statement. "But since we’re talking about friends and just social life in general...are you still single?"

"Why are you always so interested in my love life?" you joke with a playful grin, taking a sip of your margarita to leave him wondering the answer just a few seconds more. "Yes, I'm still single. Queen's full of creeps," you added shortly after. "Are any of you seeing anybody?"

"Proudly and happily single," Joaquín replies, raising his drink up as if to cheer before taking a sip.

Sam gives him a very visible side-eye. "Yikes," is all he says regarding that, turning back to you. "I'm not interested in dating right now, to be honest. I’m quite a busy gentleman, you know?" 

“And you say ‘yikes’ to me?” Joaquín says immediately after, looking dumbfounded.

You chime in before any of them could add anything else regarding that. “Bucky?” you ask, turning to look at him as you await his answer.

It was a bold move to directly ask him that question. On one hand, you know Bucky has always been a loner so you’re almost certain that he’s single. But there’s always that tiny percentage of probability that you’ll learn a truth you’re not sure how you’ll handle. He’s your best friend, of course you’ll be happy if he’s happy…but the idea of him revealing to you that he’s dating someone might actually make you physically sick.

You notice Bucky gets uncomfortable right away. “I’m single too.”

The pleasant feeling of relief lasts just a few seconds. The fact that Sam laughs at Bucky’s reply has your mind spinning, not understanding why he would laugh at that. Why the fuck is he laughing? Should you start panicking already?

"Actually, our buddy has been on a few dating apps, I believe."

Oh no. 

Even when you try to remind yourself not to care about anything remotely romantic involving Bucky- or at least, not to care more than a platonic friend would, you can deny the news of him possibly dating someone or even just randomly talking to any person in those apps makes your stomach turn. It really wouldn't be dramatic to claim that you could quite literally throw up right now at the thought of him and someone else right now.

It's not common to hear any sort of updates regarding Bucky's love life because...well, there's never any developments. He's never shown interest in anyone, and as far as you know he's never had any sort of relationship with anyone like that– serious or casual. What if he's interested in exploring that part of his life now? What if he has found someone already and you're about to hear him talk all about them? It makes you genuinely sick, but you try your best to act as unbothered as you possibly can, forcing you to mask your disgust and heartbreak with pleasant surprise.

"Is that so?" is all you say.

He looks even more uncomfortable by the subject, choosing to look down at his almost finished beer. "It's not...I was just trying to put myself out there," he says awkwardly, shrugging. "Long story short, online dating is not for me. I hated it."

You could tell he doesn’t really like talking about this subject, so you try to quickly ease the tension with a bit of humor. Besides, you're probably better off without hearing anything regarding that topic anyway. "It's because you couldn't figure out how the whole swiping thing worked, isn't it?"

Bucky immediately seems to relax with your joke, chuckling a bit. "It took me a few days actually." He takes a quick pause before continuing. "I probably should've asked you for help."

If there was any hidden message behind his last statement, it completely goes over your head because you genuinely thought it was just part of your playful banter regarding his lack of skills when it comes to technology. You laugh, and in return Bucky offers you a smile because that's as much hinting as he dares to do out loud, especially if Sam and Joaquín are sitting right there. He's incredibly used to you never getting his subtle implications anyway.

In front of you, the other two guys are watching this exchange unfold, and it's hard to tell which one of them has a bigger urge to tell you to stop being so fucking oblivious already. As subtle as he can be, Joaquín pokes Sam's side with his elbow to give him a quick heads-up before speaking. "Considering everyone's almost finished, Sam and I are getting another round of drinks."

The two of them are standing up when they notice you're grabbing your purse and standing up as well. "Oh, I can go with you. I have to go to the restroom anyway."

The two of them want to yet again yell at you to please get a grip on the situation, but Sam just silently takes a seat as you and Joaquín go over to the bar, quickly telling him what you want to order before heading towards the restroom.

A few drinks later the four of you are finally leaving the bar. Sam and Joaquín left to their respective houses while you and Bucky shared an Uber back to his own place. He was kind enough to let you crash in his spare room for the night. It's not like this is the first time you've ever stayed at his apartment when you visit the boys, but you can't deny the idea is both thrilling and terrifying- not like anything would happen to make you feel like that...you two are just friends...but, still...your silly head likes to get silly ideas sometimes.

Deciding not to indulge in your little fantasies, you decide to start a conversation. "Update on the food?" you ask, turning to look at Bucky, who sits comfortably on the sofa of his living room.

"Like ten minutes away," he says, taking a quick look at the screen. "How come you haven't congratulated me for knowing how to order food with this thing?" he added with evident surprise, making you chuckle.

"Because you keep saying 'this thing' like it's some mysterious device completely unknown to mankind," you reply, and before you can stop yourself, you continue. "It's cute, I guess, so congratulations."

Bucky's grin grows wider. "Oh, so it's cute?"

You try really hard not to panic, feeling incredibly embarrassed. The fact that he seems to be enjoying what you just said makes it even worse, because you know he’ll use that to tease you now. He just finds any possible excuse to do it. "Cute as in lame."

He chuckles. "Right."

Not knowing what else to say, you clear your throat before walking towards him, taking a seat next to him as you try to come up with something else to change the subject immediately. "I'm starving," is all you say, mentally scolding you for such a poor effort.

As soon as you're sitting, you unsuccessfully try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he leans just a bit closer...perhaps if you weren't hyper vigilant whenever the two of you are too near you might've missed it. And then, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, right behind you.

For a second, you even thought of mocking him for such a move, but bringing more attention to it would only make you that much nervous, and you really don't want to embarrass yourself. And most importantly, you don't want your silly mind and your silly heart to get their hopes up. You're just friends, nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees, the playful grin on his face still not disappearing. "Might have to steal a few fries from you."

"Oh, I'd really like to see you try stealing my food," you reply in the same playful tone, leaning just a little closer to him without even noticing that you were actually doing that.

"I think I deserve some compensation after what happened today. You know, for all the unnecessary ass-kicking I had to do."

"Just when I thought you had moved on from that!" you reply, jokingly slapping his knee. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours for not telling me the plan on time!"

"You should've just trusted me," he insists. "But you always have to be right on everything..."

You know he's joking. There's something about bantering with you that seems to absolutely fascinate him. "Yeah, and you always want to piss me off."

Bucky chuckles again, and that's when you feel his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his arm fully around you. What the actual fuck is going on. "What, you think I like pissing you off?" he asks, tone slightly lower than before, which inevitably makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Is that why you think I do it?"

You were quiet for a moment, your brain not entirely registering what's happening. "I mean...yeah."

He stops for a second, and you almost see a hint of hesitation on his face before he speaks, letting out a frustrated sigh. "For someone who claims to be so much more clever than anyone else, I would've expected you to figure it out sooner," he starts, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I've been actually flirting with you, doll."

The comment evidently takes you by surprise and all you can do is to stare back at him like a complete fool. His arm around your shoulders, the proximity, the fact he had the fucking audacity to call you that nickname...did you somehow fall asleep on his couch without noticing and this is the type of oddly-realistic dream your brain decided to come up with? Are you still standing there like a fool just fantasizing and this one just got way too immersive? And did he really just say that he's been flirting with you?

Noticing you weren't saying anything, he decides to continue, looking a little hesitant and disappointed with your silence. "You know, it'd be really nice if you say something..."

"Awful way to flirt," is all you could come up with, which immediately makes him burst out laughing. 

"Maybe," he agrees. "But I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. I mean…Sam and Joaquín did a long time ago."

"The three of you share the same brain cell, of course they figured it out a long time ago,” you reply, still in complete shock to be having this conversation with him. Were you really that blind? "You could’ve just asked me."

"You know I'm not direct like that," he replies, and the shy look on his face almost makes your heart melt. "Like I said, I was relying on your impressive intelligence to figure it out."

You let out a soft chuckle after his last comment, immediately giving him a warning look. "Don't." He looks back at you for a few seconds, almost wanting to challenge you after noticing the way you’re looking at him. Soon enough, he’s unable to hide his smirk anymore. "There it is," you point out, knowing he hates that.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt as a complaint, resting his head on your shoulder. Encouraged, you immediately move a hand up to his hair, affectionately playing with it. The two of you stay like that, simply enjoying being so close to each other. It feels incredibly right.

"So how do you feel?" he eventually asks, perhaps feeling braver to ask now that he doesn’t have to look into your eyes when he does.

You don’t reply right away, still feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing he does like you back. Eventually, you do build up the courage to say something. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Bucky moves back to look at you know. The look on his face gives you the impression that he wasn’t expecting you to be so honest with your answer, perhaps expecting another silly joke or sarcastic remark. And even though you thought about the possibility of choosing a more humorous approach, after keeping your feelings for him locked up and stored away for so long, you really needed to just say it.

Instead of saying something back, Bucky tightens his grip around your shoulders just enough, using his other hand to grab your chin right before kissing you. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you're quickly returning the kiss as you just completely melt in his arms, still trying to convince yourself that this is not some kind of hyper-realistic dream.

His hand swiftly moves to your cheek as the kiss continues, the gesture so incredibly delicate, a sharp contrast with the pure need he’s transmitting through the kiss. It’s desperate, passionate, intense…like he’s been waiting an entire lifetime to finally be able to experience this, grateful for the absolute privilege that it is to kiss you.

One of your hands moves up to the back of his neck and your touch seems to encourage him that much more because before you know it, he's taking the opportunity to gently bite your bottom lip, right before continuing to make out with you.

Much to yours and Bucky's disappointment, the sound of his apartment's doorbell echoes through the apartment, indicating the food you previously ordered has arrived.

He reluctantly pulls away with a soft grunt. "Food's here," he comments out loud, offering you a soft smile. He takes a brief moment to look at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek in an affectionate manner, dreading the idea of having to leave this couch. "I'll get it."

"I can help," you offer almost immediately.

Instead of replying right away, he leans in for a short kiss. "I'll get it," he insists, quickly making his way to the door after another buzz could be heard.

You sat in his living room in complete disbelief of what just happened, thankful that he's not here right now to see your goofy smile and blushed cheeks. He'd probably tease you to no end if he did see that.

Not knowing what else to do, you immediately reach for your phone, opening your messages. You knew exactly who would be the right people to share the news with.

'uhm so we just kissed??????' you texted, the first message in the group chat you just created with Sam and Joaquín.

Joaquín is the first one to reply. 'HELL YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!'

'FUCKING FINALLY.' Sam texts shortly after.

[webism]

pornstar!nanami, who has a ritualistic approach to his job—go in, deliver a stellar performance, give his co-star a real orgasm, get paid. he gets a lot of action out of his job, and rarely seeks out... personal trysts.

but pornstar!nanami meets you in a bar, as cliche as it is, and whiskey-dick must be a myth because there's no way he could ever struggle to get it up when you look like that. and he's a gentleman, he swears it, but the sight of you in even the most simple of situations makes him want to be a bad man—do bad things.

pornstar!nanami who buys you a drink and somehow convinces you, in your heavenly stature, to come home with him. he feels like a virgin all over again, wracked with excitement and electric nerves all the same. he feels bad for being so forward with you, but he'll make you breakfast in the morning to make up for his degrading lust.

pornstar!nanami who just can't wait to get home, despite you agreeing to come spend the night. he's upset with the lewd forefront of his mind, but doesn't give himself long to lecture his own self before he's urging you into the dingy bathroom and attaching his lips to yours.

pornstar!nanami who wants to be a sweetheart, wants to swoon you, but his dick is just too hard and the noise you make when his hand swats your ass is too good to deny himself. he's so used to a camera crew being present when he's having sex that bending you over the sink and kneeling down to eat you out from behind feels more intimate than filthy.

pornstar!nanami who makes you cum on his tongue in record time: he has the practice after all. you're a shaking mess of moans when he finally stands straight to meet your gaze in the mirror. who smiles at the way you already look so fucked out, and he's hardly had his way with you yet.

pornstar!nanami who thinks your moans are made for porn when he turns you and pins you against the bathroom door—the one that doesn't lock—to catch your lips in a hot and messy kiss that has you dizzy already. before you can register his movements, he's hoisting your legs up to wrap around his waist and pushing into you with a torturous ease, like he's fucking made to fill you.

pornstar!nanami who, as he starts to thrust into you, letting your back hit the door with each snap of his hips, keeps thinking about how miserable taking his next job will be. how's he supposed to dramatise pleasure when he's felt something as perfect as you? clenching around him, each gasp you take from his breath as he fucks you to the edge of pleasure and back. nothing is going to compare.

pornstar!nanami who starts to ramble, his mind reeling with need and pleasure and want and everything on the path to infatuation. "you're so petty wrapped around my cock like this," he grunts, fucks into you faster, deeper. "fuck, i dont believe in fate but—shit—this... god i'm made for you. just for you."

pornstar!nanami whose words force you both over the edge, and you cum in blissful unison. eyes squeezed shut and kento's teeth sinking gently into the skin of your shoulder as he empties his balls. he debates telling you what he does, inviting you to film with him for a private shoot, something for him to keep and lock away for his eyes only.

pornstar!nanami who watches as you melt into his arms, eyes wide and watching every beautiful feature of his face as he stays seated inside of you. you're about to part your lips and admit that you know who he is, that you've seen him a hundred times before when the night is dark and your fingers slip into your panties at the sight of him on your phone screen, that you'd do anything to see him again, that you'd star for him, do anything he'd ask... when there's a knock on the bathroom door :)

[lokissweater]

little mouse

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: toge inumaki, the barista at your local campus coffee shop, is the cutest man to ever cross your life— the both of you clicking fast and becoming the best of friends as the years flew by together… but you were in love. uncertain of crossing that line between friendship and lovers as you focused mainly on trying to see if he even liked you back. but as for toge? he was focused on trying not to burden you for the rest of your life because of his inability to speak, wanting you and only you, but juggling and tormented over his labored silent existence, hurting you in the process.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, college!au, FLUUUFFFF SO MUCH, pet names, TOGE LOVES YOU BROOO, angst!!! but with comfort!!, happy ending, SMUTTTT, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, doggy hehe, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sorority party, toge is a barista ouuu, cursing, best friends to lovers trope, reader and toge argue, all characters are aged up.

word count: 15.2k

authors note: YEEEOOOOWWWWW this fic was originally NOOTTTT supposed to be 15k but i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again I CAN NEVA STOP YAPPING MY GOD??? i hope you guys love this one as much as i do though it is SOOOOOO CUTEEE man :(( thank you SO SO MUCH for your love and support as ALWAYS, AND I LOVE YOUUUU AHHH MWAH MWAH HAVE A GOOD DAY OKAY <333

anyone that was a regular at the shop knew toge inumaki didn’t really ever speak.

and it was something you found out on your first day of college, running to the nearest coffee shop at eight-thirty in the fucking morning looking for something to snack on and wake you up before lecture, choosing to go to the one just around the corner from campus through a recommendation of a friend— but not knowing at all that you were about to run into the cutest man to ever plague your god damn existence, as well as your bestest friend in the entire world.

toge was the main barista and cashier at the shop, his mixology skill incomparable as no one else on the floor could replicate it successfully without errors the way he did— ringing customers up while simultaneously throwing coffee bases and syrups in a blender, topping each corresponding one with whipped cream on various orders before sliding it over to the pick up counter, all without even breaking a sweat through the times that you’ve shamefully watched him work from your little table before or after classes.

the first time you met him, you thought he was just having a bad day… and that he also hated you.

you had politely told him your order while at the same time ogling his handsome face— a small and simple sweet vanilla cold brew drink with a little blueberry scone on the side— when toge didn’t even spare you a glance and just tapped in your order on the screen, turning the tablet over to showcase the total before moving to the back to get started on your drink, not a single word leaving his scarf covered mouth as you silently paid and got a table.

it’s not like you were expecting anything out of it, but you hoped you would at least catch the color of his eyes before you had to leave.

and it went on like that for a total of four days— you saying the exact same order but just switching up the little pastry depending on your mood (it only consisting of your usual three— blueberry scone, cake pop, and cheese danish), toge’s eyes never leaving the register or drinks he made as you waited, and him sliding over your order in record time as he got started on attending the next customer.

on the fifth day, toge finally looked up.

the way he took your order didn’t change, but when it came to placing it over the pick up counter where you stood, your eyes widened when you noticed he was already looking at you, a grin on his face as he personally handed you your drink instead of sliding it over.

his eyes were purple.

and you just about fucking screamed, your days of hopelessly coming in to try and ridiculously take longer peeks at his face whenever you could finally paying off in that moment— and not expecting whatsoever to see the sides of his mouth marked with tattooed snake eyes either.

that day was also the day you noticed toge knew sign language.

most of the time toge took orders quickly without a word and punched in requests, but from time to time when a customer had a question about a menu item or what the passcode to the bathroom was, he always had a little whiteboard next to him with a black marker to scribble out what he needed to say— regulars already knowing how he communicated and not batting a single strange eye.

but on that day, a new customer came in that you didn’t recognize to be a regular, signing to one of the confused employees at the cash register until the employee turned around and tapped toge on the shoulder, pointing and saying words you couldn’t really hear before he quickly nodded and put down the blender he was holding, going over to sign.

you were mesmerized by it, the way his hands and fingers came together and away from each other to form different words and sentences completely unknown to those who didn’t understand the language, something that was beautiful to you and made you want to actually learn so you could potentially have the liberty to talk to him some time in the future if you could.

the next time you came into the shop early in the morning, toge was at the register. and upon seeing you walk in, he smoothly looked down and started typing away already on the screen, seemingly not listening and leaving you standing there confused.

“um—” you stammered. “can i…”

you trailed off as you watched him pick up his whiteboard and uncap the marker, scribbling.

‘i remembered your order.’

you froze, your heart doing enormous leaps considering this was the first time toge actually spoke to you apart from getting your order down and smiling at you.

“oh! really?” you laughed nervously. “…do i come in here too often then?”

he gave you a friendly grin and shook his head, erasing what he had before writing again.

‘do you want a blueberry scone, cake pop, or cheese danish?’

your eyes bulged. “you know that too?!”

he laughed, the sound making your hands clammy as you giggled along with him shyly.

“i’ll do a cake pop today!” you smiled. “i’m running a little late and that’s— easy to eat.. you know—”

he gave you a thumbs up and nodded, signaling with his head for you to wait by the pick up counter as he scribbled another few words, turning the whiteboard around.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow :)’

your cheeks flushed pink.

“y—yeah!” you spoke gingerly. “i’ll see you toge.”

the next few times after that toge would absolutely beam whenever you came into the shop, having already scribbled down your three choices of your usual pastries before having it ready for you at the pick up counter once you chose, even every now and then asking you a simple thing or two about your classes and major from the register as you sat by your table, him propping his little whiteboard up for you to see.

and ever since you saw that toge knew sign language, you wanted to know too, your desire to communicate with him more efficiently a silly priority on your mind as you signed up for entry level sign language courses at your college, trying to learn as much as you possibly could so it’d be easier for him not always having to step back and write.

“wait wait!” you put your hands out one slow morning upon arriving at the shop, toge stopping mid tap on the screen just as he was about to input your order, eyeing you.

your fingers shook a little as you slowly signed your order and choice of pastry for the day, trying to remember and grasp what you practiced repeatedly the night before, hoping your efforts would successfully come across and that you didn’t look like a fucking idiot.

but his focused eyes followed your movements, carefully watching you sign with pinched brows until you eventually finished— a slow pearly white smile spreading across is face as his gaze flickered to yours before writing on his whiteboard, turning it.

‘you know sign language?’

“barely!” you sputtered. “i um.. i started taking classes a couple of months ago but i’m not very good… did you— get it though? what i said?”

he quickly nodded.

‘it was a little choppy but good! good job y/n :)’

you breathed out a sigh of relief, a hand over your hammering chest as you swallowed.

“oh thank god.” you breathed. “i was worried i looked stupid or was accidentally telling you something weird.”

he laughed and waved you off, a slight tint to his cheeks as he wrote.

‘how’s learning it overall?’

“hard as fuck.” you mumbled, but peering up at him with a smile. “i’m trying though! i really love the language and i love learning it… it’s just hard because my professor kind of sucks and teaches it too fast.”

he hummed, moving around in the back while preparing your order before coming around through the little swinging door and over to your usual table, you standing dumbfounded at the register still as he stood there with your pastry and his whiteboard.

toge pointed to your seat.

“oh!” you gasped, walking over and taking a seat, smiling gratefully once he placed your coffee and cheese danish down for you, but stiffening once he scooched the chair out across from you and sat, your cheeks ablaze again.

“you wanna—” you looked at him with furrowed brows. “you wanna sit with me?”

he laughed a little and nodded.

“but the…” you pointed to the cash register.

he uncapped his marker and wrote, turning the board over.

‘it’s a slow day. if someone comes in i’ll just go.’

“oh— okay!” you breathed out nervously, wringing your fingers together as you kept them on your lap.

your thoughts were speeding across every corner of your mind, not knowing exactly why toge chose to sit with you right now but hanging on to the moment anyways, you anxiously trying to come up with things to say to get to know him a little better.

“i like your um..” you pointed to the corners of your mouth. “—your tattoos. did they hurt?”

he smiled and wrote.

‘thanks :) and not really, my throat hurts more than the tattooing itself hehe.’

your eyes snapped up to his.

“your throat?” you asked softly. “is it okay?”

‘oh it’s fine!’ he wrote. ‘well no but it just hurts a lot when i talk so i just don’t.’

you hummed in understanding, the missing puzzle as to why exactly toge never spoke out loud to anyone in the first place finally clicking into place.

“i’m sorry toge…” you expressed sweetly. “have you tried— well i assume you have but… like getting it checked out? or maybe honey with lemon or—”

he turned his board around.

‘yeah :P nothing really works. L for me.’

you giggled, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a smile.

‘can you show me what else you know in sign language?’

“ohhh this is it.” you swallowed. “you’re about to laugh in my face and think i’m stupid.”

he laughed and gave you a look.

‘you’re silly. just show me.’

you huffed before timidly showing him very basic simple phrases that you managed to pick up from class out of the millions that were shown— short choppy kiddy words that didn’t even serve to get by in a quick conversation, but enough for simple one worded responses.

“oh! and i like this one the most!—” you put the bases of your palms together and rubbed a little.

toge let out a squeaky cute laugh as he watched you before quickly picking up his marker and writing.

‘cheese? your favorite thing to sign is cheese?’

“yeah!—” you giggled shyly. “it’s funnn! and i never fuck it up.”

he nodded with a gleam in his eye.

‘i could teach you sign language if you want.’

you froze, eyes wide as you looked at him.

“seriously?” you quickly leaned forward. “are— are you sure? you definitely don’t have to at all toge… i don’t want to burden you or anything.”

his eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.

‘not burden at all.’ he wrote. ‘i’m a lazy fart i don’t do much besides this so it’s fine.’

you giggled and nodded excitedly, a hopeful shine in your eyes as you looked at him.

“o—okay!” you agreed. “i’d like that a lot… thank you toge!”

he was so nice.

and just as he was about to write something else, a customer came through the doors and up to the cash register, toge quickly scribbling something down before standing and showing you, walking backwards.

‘i’ll talk to you later little mouse :)’

you laughed loudly, a hand flying over your mouth as you did.

that nickname stuck.

“bye toge!” you responded kindly, gathering your things before heading out for the day with your coffee and pastry.

unfortunately for you, midterm season came and knocked the absolute shit out of you for a week, you unable to go back to the coffee shop to see toge until it was all fucking over, your heart heavy over the fact that you literally failed your sign language test, but giddy and excited nonetheless to finally see him after a while and go back to your usual happy routine.

and as for toge, he was left utterly confused.

was he too forward? did you think it was weird when he called you little mouse? did you think he was weird?

was it something he did? why had you stopped coming into the shop after going in continuously for like weeks at this point?

and he had just gotten the courage to look you in the eye too.

toge literally had your order ready every single day with your three pastries warmed up and toasted if need be, your sweet vanilla cold brew drink ready to go the moment you walked through those doors at any given point and time… but you just didn’t come. him leaning on the register counter bored out of his mind and dejected over the disappearance of the pretty nice girl that always came in and talked to him at his work, ending up always drinking the coffee he made for you silently and munching on the three pastries you chose between when it was time to close.

but when you finally came in, early in the morning like you always did and looking forward to seeing him again— toge was hunched over the counter with his chin propped up on his hand like he had been for the past week, you unknowing of that as you walked over with a smile.

“hi toge!”

he shot up, eyes wide with his palms flat on the counter.

“y/n!—”

he spoke.

toge spoke and he immediately cowered over in a fit of painful sounding coughs that racked through his body, his mouth shoved into his elbow as he quickly pushed through the doors and walked to the back, leaving you there wide eyed and completely fucking shocked.

he said your name.

“toge..?” you called softly, timidly as you leaned over the counter to try and catch a look at him from inside the employee break room, still hearing faint coughing. “hey— are you okay?”

he returned to the floor chugging back a bottle of cough syrup like nothing before tossing it into the nearest bin and swallowing, snatching his marker to write on the mini whiteboard, holding it up.

‘where the fuck have you been?’

you looked at him with an apologetic little face, your eyes soft.

“i’m sorryyy!” you whined. “i’m so sorry it was midterm week for me and i was grinding so hard and i just didn’t have time to come in… it was torture.”

you guiltily bit your lip. “…are you mad at me?”

he shook his head slowly, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the confirmation that it wasn’t anything he did that could’ve potentially put you off.

‘not at all mouse :P.’ he wrote before reaching to the side and sliding over your already made coffee and three pastries, lined up.

and surprise crossed your face.

“you had it ready?” you gasped. “toge! thank you!”

you quickly opened your book bag and he placed a hand over your arm, stopping you and shaking his head ‘no.’

“no?” you asked softly. “what do you mean? i’m just gonna pay.”

toge only shook his head again with a small smile, nudging his head over for you to sit at your usual table.

your shoulders slumped. “now what would you do if i just burst out crying right now.”

he laughed loudly and let go of your arm to write, leaving a burning fuzzy feeling on your skin in return.

‘cry? why?’

“because you’re so nice!” you whined. “please let me pay. i already feel bad not coming in for a week… especially after you offered to teach me sign language.”

‘go sit down mouse. i’ll sit with you in a little bit.’

you begrudgingly stood in place before nodding and taking your drink with your bag of pastries, walking over to the side and plopping down on a seat.

toge had a bit of a rush in and couldn’t join you for nearly an hour, him constantly shooting you apologetic looks and you frantically waving him off and reassuring him that it was okay, you astronomically thankful that you didn’t have class that day until later in the evening.

but when the rush was eventually over, toge dropped down on the seat across from yours with a big tired sigh and his whiteboard, head down.

you gently poked his arm then, and he looked up.

“is your throat okay?” you asked, face serious. “and you?”

he nodded, giving you a warm smile before grabbing his marker.

‘it happens sometimes, i just slipped up. L for me again.’

you smiled sadly and retracted your hand from across the table to settle back over your lap.

“i like your voice… if that makes you feel any better.” you spoke shyly, looking down at your fingers.

toge bit the inside of his cheek and smiled cheekily.

‘thanks mouse… but i know something that’ll make me feel even better hehe.’

“what?” you asked curiously.

he wrote.

‘give me your number before you disappear on me again you little rat.’

“hey!” you whined. “i thought i was a mouse..”

he chuckled cutely and nudged your foot gently from underneath the table, erasing and writing again.

‘i’m just kidding. we need to set up those sign language lessons soon though :D.’

and at the reminder of that you groaned, body slumping over the table as toge eyed you confusedly.

“you’re gonna laugh. or be mad. or disappointed. or all three..” you mumbled, voice slightly muffled.

he poked your head repeatedly and you lifted it, chin resting lazily on the table as he looked at you expectantly.

“i failed my sign language midterm.”

toge snorted but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, and you whined again before shoving your face back down as he quickly shook you by the shoulders, trying to get you to look up again.

“no no no i’m a disgrace i’m a failure i studied so fucking hard for nothing it’s over i’m not cut out—”

he kept shaking and delicately pinching you before you finally looked up again.

“what.” you mumbled, eyes dragging to his propped up whiteboard.

‘i’m sorry i laughed… but don’t worry you’ll pass the next one. you’ll be okay.’

“and how do you know.” you grumbled.

‘because now you have delicious me, duh :P’

you giggled softly and lifted yourself from the table, leaning back against your chair.

he gave you a warm knowing smile before writing again.

‘cheer up mouse… i promise i’ll help you.’

a slow cutesy grin spread across your face, one that made him swallow hard as you looked at him through your lashes.

“thank you toge… do you— do you work tomorrow?”

his gaze flickered up in thought before he shook his head, eyes landing back on yours.

“maybe we could start… tomorrow? if you’re free? and if— if it’s okay of course!” you stammered nervously, gnawing at your bottom lip as you waited for his response.

his cheeks fluttered pink a little before quickly nodding.

“okay!” you breathed excitedly. “great! we could do it here? or—”

he frantically shook his head no and uncapped his marker.

‘my dickhead manager will pull me to work if i’m here on my day off.’

you laughed and nodded. “okay not here then.. where? we can try my place but i already know my parents are gonna be annoying about bringing a guy over so..”

he smiled and looked down to write.

‘we can do my apartment mouse. i live alone.’

your eyes widened. “you have your own place? really?”

he slowly nodded.

“that’s so cool toge! oh my goodness i can’t wait to see it now!”

you bounced enthusiastically in your seat and he chuckled, perplexed as to why you would ever be excited to see something like that, but choosing not to question it.

‘it’s kind of small, and i mainly just sleep and be lazy if i’m not working or streaming.’

you tilted your head. “streaming..?”

he pursed his lips and looked down again to scribble, an embarrassed undertone to his face before propping the whiteboard up.

‘i play games and stream to earn extra money on the side like a little loser.’

you giggled, your eyebrows slightly furrowing before relaxing. “why would that make you a little loser toge? you’re making money while doing something you like… i think that’s really fun!”

an eager attractive grin ran across his face before quickly writing again.

‘i’m glad you think so :) but give me your number neow.’

“oh that’s right!” you beamed, taking his offered whiteboard and marker before quickly writing down your number with a heart in the corner, passing it back.

“just text me whenever and we can set a time for tomorrow okay?”

he nodded, his eyes trained to the heart you drew.

for the rest of his shift, toge spent it bouncing around between your table and back to the cash register to take orders and make drinks, seemingly finishing each beverage ten times fucking faster than usual just so he could come over and talk to you before you had to leave again for your evening class.

but you didn’t want to leave whatsoever, and you even juggled the possibility of skipping class to stay longer with toge, but the next class happened to be sign language, and you didn’t want to fail another fucking midterm by not showing up and missing material.

you threw your trash away before grabbing your book bag and slinging it over your shoulder once it was time, you slowly and timidly trying to get toge’s attention as you walked to the exit.

your shy raised hand caught his eye in between him blending and pouring drinks, toge quickly putting everything down and reaching for the whiteboard from the register, erasing whatever he had from a previous customer to write and flipping it over with a silly smile.

‘bye mouse!’ it read. ‘i’ll see you tomorrow! :P.’

and that was nearly two and a half years ago, the heart you drew in the corner of his whiteboard still there to this day as he answered questions, responded, or scribbled directions in any given situation with it no matter if it was in or outside of work— always wanting to have a little part of you with him wherever he went.

toge also kept his promise and taught you sign language, you trying so so fucking hard every waking day you spent with him at his cute little studio apartment— learning phrases and properly constructing it into sentences that actually made sense as you both sat sprawled on the floor for hours on end, him patient and kind as he watched you shakily sign and accept his gentle corrections with an open mind.

but although your sentences were continuously choppy and a little off at that point in time, they were definitely in way better condition than when you tried to study and learn it on your own… and toge was unsurprisingly a really good teacher— ten times more helpful than your literal freaking licensed professor whom you had started with, as toge would actually take the time to write and explain each concept in the best way he possibly could for you to understand.

now you were comfortable enough with it to respond in very simple sentences and phrases, but stronger at understanding it whenever toge signed to you, a plus when he clumsily forgot his whiteboard somewhere or when he just didn’t want to use it.

and ever since that first day you went over to his place to learn and study, you literally never went a day without going back again, your cute routine with him being going to his apartment every second of the day to hang out with him or do the things that you needed to do— some that could easily be done in your own space and home and room, but you refusing to for the sole purpose of wanting to be with toge all of the time, him feeling the exact same way and going as far as to giving you a copy of the key to his apartment.

(toge :D): MOUSE

(toge :D): MOUSE

your phone buzzed repeatedly just as you were walking up the steps to toge’s floor, you nearly dropping it over the uncontrollable buzz.

(toge :D): LITTLE MOUSE

(you): YES <3

(toge :D): ouuu a heart?? i didn’t know we were married :P

you let out a giggle and quickly typed a response, your face hot.

(you): mmm i don’t know my ring finger is quite literally bare right now :/ maybe next time!

(toge :D): YOOOOO

(toge :D): it’s because it’s gonna be under your pillow

(toge :D): like from the tooth fairy

(toge :D): a big shiny cock

(toge :D): I MEAN ROCK

(toge :D): ROCK I MEANT ROCK SORRY

you burst out laughing as you readjusted your book bag on your shoulder and turned the corner, nearing his apartment number.

(toge :D): …please still come over

(toge :D): oh wait that’s why i texted you! :P

(toge :D:) WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

(toge :D): YOU’RE LATE MOUSE

(you): LMFAAOOO

(you): IM COMMINGGGG i’m literally down the hall sir

(you): but now that you yelled at me HMMMM i don’t feel like going today <//3

(toge :D): NO

(toge :D): i’m sorry i’m on my knees

(toge :D): i’m begging

(toge :D): i even brought you a blueberry scone from work

(toge :D): and i’ll buy you whatever you want

(toge :D): FUCK COME OVER NOOOWWWWW

(you): SAY PLEASE AND ADDRESS ME CORRECTLY

(toge :D): PLEEEAASSEEE MOUUSEE

you bit your lip in attempts at suppressing your giddy smile, it not really fucking working as you arrived at his door, pulling your keys out from your bag and shuffling through them to find his— one that had a tiny onigiri design on it.

(you): coming!! <33

(toge :D): so you’re saying we’re married again :P

the door clicked open upon you twisting the key in, stepping inside before closing it behind you while juggling your textbooks and locking it, toge seated on his little gaming chair when he swiveled around and waved at you with a big smile, standing.

“toge!” you gasped exhaustedly, stepping over to him. “you have got to help me please my god—”

he grabbed the textbooks from your arms and walked over to his desk, setting them down before turning back around and giving you a curious look.

‘what’s wrong?’ he signed.

“everything! everything is wrong sign language two is not for the weak oh my goodness gracious—”

you flopped down with your back flat on his bed, eyes shut in agony as he watched you amusedly.

“my professor’s teaching us grammar now and it just gets harder! i don’t know where to properly put anything or— or sign anything.”

he giggled softly and you peeked an eye open, looking at him.

‘i’ll help you mouse.’ he signed, stretching a hand out and you taking it, letting him pull you up to sit as you lazily did so.

“but i ask you too much.” you pouted. “and i feel bad every time i do, especially when you’re playing.”

he snorted, going over to his little dining table and pulling out a chair, lifting it over to his desk gaming set up area and placing it down before ushering you over with his hand.

“nuh uh.” you shook your head.

toge gave you a half lidded look and sat on the dining chair, him always saving his big comfy gaming chair for you whenever you sat with him at his desk since the first time you came over— his eyes expectant.

you deeply sighed and stood, trudging over to his gaming chair before plopping yourself down.

“you don’t have to toge… it’s okay.” you spoke gently. “you’ve been teaching me for like— two years already. my new year’s resolution was to stop bothering you about it and let you live.”

he slid his little whiteboard over and erased what he previously had, uncapping his marker and writing.

he showed you.

‘i’ll always help you and you know that :( and it doesn’t bother me you rat, i do it because i want to.’

or because he’s in love with you. either or.

you giggled and lifted your hand, your index finger erasing over the word ‘rat.’ “—it’s mouusee toge. it’s like you get off on abusing and hurting your bestest mestest friend.”

he laughed boyishly and put down his whiteboard, sliding over one of your textbooks from across the table to him and flipping through several pages, reading to try and see exactly where you were at by the sticky notes you left behind in the margins.

“don’t you have to stream today though?” you asked timidly. “like right now?”

he simply shrugged, turning a page as he reached over to write again on his board.

‘i can stream later tonight—’

he quickly turned it around again to add something just as you had finished reading, him flipping it back over.

‘—with you asleep on my bed. because you’re sleeping over. and that’s FINAL.’

you laughed loudly while leaning forward, your cheeks brewing up a little flush at the request even though you’ve slept over at his place plenty of times before— the thought of him actively wanting you to making your heart bounce around erratically in your chest.

“fuck i don’t know…” you feigned concern. “i’m not sure if i can toge i’m sorry.”

he slumped, eyes so sad that it made you almost sick to your stomach as you struggled to commit to the small bit.

‘why not?’ he signed.

“because i’m missing something.” you pouted.

‘missing?’ he signed again. ‘missing what?’

you snickered.

“my ring!” you extended your hand to him and wiggled your little fingers, you poking the tip of your tongue out to the side cutely. “the one you promised me over text.”

toge breathed out a laugh and nearly dropped dead at your cute expression, him mimicking you and sticking his tattooed tongue out before picking up his whiteboard from his lap to write.

‘i told you the tooth fairy has it :D you have to be patient little mouse.’

you giggled and put your arm down, giving him a stern silly look.

“kayyy thennn!” you dragged, sitting up in your chair and looking over your textbook. “i’ll be expecting my big shiny rock under my pillow in the morning sir.”

he saluted you and you grinned, the rest of the time being spent with toge trying to teach you as best as he could with you hopelessly following along, feeling like the dumbest bitch alive and embarrassed whenever you got something wrong.

but toge never minded, not one single bit— even when you made the same grammar mistake literally three times in a row and him correcting you each freaking time the same exact way, no sign of annoyance or frustration on his face as he worked with you.

and that’s one of the biggest reasons as to why you loved toge so much. since the moment you met him all he wanted to do was just help you, regardless of the fact if you were a stranger or not as he generously always put the things he needed to do aside for you— making sure you were always okay and getting the things you needed no matter how many times you told him he didn’t need to worry, you feeling special and appreciated whenever you were with him no matter what.

you hoped to god he felt the same… and you hoped you weren’t being straight delusional when you noticed the way he looked at you a little longer than he should have at times, or when you read too much into the casual little pecks on your head from him, or when you had told him how much you loved just studying on the floor beside him while he streamed but made a joke that sometimes you couldn’t see because it was so dark in his apartment, toge literally the next day buying you a little flower lily lamp to set and prop up right next to you so you could comfortably study, him laughing and wiping your tears when you ridiculously cried over his consideration.

so did that mean he loved you too?

“toge…” you murmured in the midst of him fixing a signage error of the word ‘before’ with his fingers.

he pointed to your hands so you could take note of the alteration he made, waiting for you to carry on then.

you smiled softly in gratitude before continuing.

“have you ever—” you pursed your lips. “have you ever um… well— actually nevermind—”

he blinked before slowly lifting his hands.

‘have i ever what?’ toge signed, and you quickly shook your head.

“nevermind! it’s okay.”

he gently nudged your foot with his, beckoning you to tell him as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

fuck.

okay if he kisses your head right now then you’ll tell him.

“i forgot toge.” you lied. “that’s why i said nevermind… oopsie!”

he laughed and leaned forward, pecking your forehead before reaching a hand up to ruffle up your hair.

fuck!

no you take it back you can’t do it you can’t—

‘silly.’ he signed, turning his attention back to your textbook and flipping a page.

he wondered what it was, but figured it would come back to you eventually and you’d tell him soon after.

by the end of the day, it was like there was an actual fucking light at the end of the tunnel for you and your sign language two class— you going from being over a thousand percent sure that you were about to pathetically fail the entire course, to having a shiny little sliver of hope because of toge’s ability to get anything through your big head and make you understand, feeling eternally grateful for him in many ways than one.

and you wanted him, so fucking bad, ever since you saw him at the coffee shop, that you thought in that moment while toge set up his bed for you to sleep in while you sat on his desk chair, dressed in his big white t-shirt and pajama pants, that if you just— maayybee tested the waters and crossed the line a little bit without it being too drastic, that you’d get your answer.

but did you want to know? what if he didn’t love you back? what the fuck were you supposed to do then?

cry and wither away, that’s what. you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone as much as you loved toge.

you hear the familiar squeaks of his black marker streaking against his little whiteboard, the sound pulling you from your thoughts and you looked up.

‘you’re so spacey today pretty. are you still worried about your class? :(‘

pretty.

“oh!” you stood. “no toge i feel a lot better about it actually because of you… thank you.”

he grinned, nodding before walking and leaning over his pc to set up his streaming session, mouse clicking away.

“toge—”

he looked over at you with his gorgeous purple eyes and you froze, cheeks heating up as your wobbly lips struggled to come together and fucking speak.

“nevermind nevermind—”

his eyes narrowed, snatching his whiteboard and quickly writing.

‘you did this earlier today too. tell me what’s wrong.’

“no.”

‘no?’ he signed. ‘tell me y/n.’

“no! not my name!” you dived dramatically on his comfy blanket filled bed and groaned. “you only call me by my name when you’re mad and i don’t like it.”

he sat next to you on the edge of the bed and pulled on your shoulder slightly, you fully turning around on your back and looking at him anxiously.

toge wished he could continuously beg you and ask you what was wrong so you’d just tell him— him at times sick of constantly having to pause and make you wait so he could get his point across, a painful fact that never left his mind and made him feel like the biggest burden in your life.

that’s why he never wanted to cross that line you both always seemed to lean over without meaning to. the line that’s kept you both on this limbo of half best friends and half more as he sometimes hugged you a lot longer or snuck in a couple of self indulgent cheek and hand kisses to your skin… but that’s as far as he’d really let himself get. toge didn’t want to permanently have you drag him along in your life no matter how much he wanted to be in it as something way more.

you deserved noise, you deserved loud love, you deserved someone who could actually speak to you— things he mourned over that he could never give you.

and he knew this. he’s known from the moment you walked into the coffee shop the very first time even though you swore up and down that he noticed you later, you unaware that he actually saw you right off the fucking bat on the first day and couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye— knowing you were going to be the biggest heartbreak of his life and ruin him if he so managed as to let you in when you kept coming back.

but toge was selfish, and he couldn’t help himself.

so he tried to compromise.

there’s nothing wrong with being just friends… right? a casual conversation between two people while he was at work? to then bid goodbye and say hello to every now and then?

except a quick conversation with you turned into ones that lasted almost his entire shift sometimes, and then casual meet ups turned into sleepovers at his apartment when he offered to teach you sign language, and then little hugs of farewell and hello’s turned into him kissing you practically fucking everywhere that wasn’t your mouth with the tightest embraces, him completely going against what he swore he wasn’t going to do and damning himself for life.

and even more so when you had joked about wanting a ring that one day, him actually going out the next day and buying you matching ones even though he didn’t even know if he was strong enough to actually give yours to you.

but toge was still freaking selfish.

because as you looked at him now, your gorgeous face anxious and thought-filled about things he wished you would tell him without worry, the outline and shape of your plush soft lips burning his pupils in such a way that it felt like a privilege, your body in his clothes—

made him want to speak the three worded phrase he was only allowed to say in his sleepy dreams if he was lucky.

“what toge?” you spoke softly, reaching a hand up to delicately card through the front pieces of his pale blonde hair, soft and silky as the outline of his tattooed snake eyes made you a little fuzzy.

he slowly shook his head, a far off look in his eye as he leaned over you, his face close and strained that your eyebrows pinched a little at his expression.

your hand proceeded to gently smooth down from his hair to the side of his cheek, cupping it and caressing over it with your thumb so lovingly that he nearly broke his oath.

if you said that you loved him… he wondered if he would crack. if you confessed and told him that you felt the same way, he juggled the possibility of ruining his own life by giving in and letting you take on the burden of his existence just to have you like he’s always wanted—

“i love you.” you told him.

toge’s big wide afraid eyes stared back at you as you smiled sheepishly, his breath caught in his throat.

“i—” you hesitated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “i really love you. like in the way where i want you to like— kiss me and stuff in your free time…”

he huffed a shocked breath, his face still just alarmed and strained and you started to believe that maybe you actually were delusional and misinterpreted things, his lack of anything making you second guess.

“i’m sorry.” you blurted. “i’m sorry i thought—”

and toge was still selfish as he let his lips fall down and crash against yours, moving so feverishly and hungrily that you couldn’t keep up as he dug his arms underneath you and around before pulling you up flush against his body, wanting you as close to him as humanely fucking possible incase he never got to do this again with you, the possibility horrifyingly still there.

“does this mean—” you spoke in between kisses, breathless. “does this mean you love me too—”

toge broke apart momentarily and quickly nodded, eyes ditzy and clouded as he panted against your lips, drunkenly lowering his head and linking his wet lips with yours again as he sloppily kissed you, laying you back down while you wrung your arms around his neck, you giddy and absolutely fucking enamored with him and that he was finally yours.

except he technically wasn’t… yet…

even when three full weeks had passed.

you still visited toge at work in the coffee shop in the mornings or the afternoon like you always did, ordering the same thing and going in to chat as he wrote his responses on his whiteboard— except now whenever rush hour would conclude, toge would greedily sneak in kisses with you at your table or hold the back of your hand to his cheek as you talked about your classes and your plans for the weekend, his conflicted mind putting his oath on the back burner for now as he tried to relish in the love he’s been wanting for so long.

and you were a little confused as to why toge hadn’t taken the initiative that night and asked you to be his girlfriend, but you didn’t complain, you too caught up in the moment when he would make out with you at his apartment in between study or streaming breaks with his hands literally all over you like a man starved, groping and squeezing at anything he could but never going over that last jump to do something intimate with you, your lovesick mind too in it to care at the moment.

that was the next compromise he made.

if you both just— just stayed this way. no official title no matter how much it pained him just so that he could continue doing these lovely lovely things with you whenever you both wanted, his mind thinking that since you both weren’t technically together that he wasn’t burdening you for life just yet, wanting to keep it this way for as long as he possibly could because toge didn’t fucking know what he was going to do when the time came for making it official.

well yes— he did know. but what he wanted to do and what he should do were two completely different things.

“togeee!” you bounded into the shop one morning, thankful that it was empty as you quickly leaned over the counter and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, him smiling wide with a flush to his face in response.

‘hi mouse :) <3’ he wrote on his whiteboard. ‘have you had something to eat yet?’

“i’m good im good! wait i haven’t ate but im good!” you spoke excitedly. “i come with newwsss. really fun news!”

he hummed and nodded, motioning for you to continue as he moved around in the back to get and warm up a breakfast sandwich for you.

“one of my friends from sign language told me she’s throwing a party at her sorority house and invited meee!” you beamed, hearing a little oven ping and then following him to your usual table so the both of you could sit.

toge gently slid your sandwich over upon scooting his chair up, warm and yummy as it sat pretty on a little pastel green plate and him signing ‘eat please’ as you grinned.

“and i know you told me once that you’ve never been to a college party, so i was wondering if you wanted to maybe.. come with me?”

he smiled softly.

‘when?’ toge signed.

“tomorrow night!” you responded, taking a bite out of your breakfast sandwich.

he nodded, thinking a little in his head before sliding his whiteboard over to write.

‘of course ill go mouse but it might be better without me.’

you faltered, swallowing. “without you? why?”

he erased and wrote again.

‘because i can’t talk. your friends might think it’s a little odd.’

“no they won’t.” you countered. “and that’s totally okay, toge. just bring your whiteboard.”

he snorted, shaking his head.

‘i’m not bringing my whiteboard silly that’s even worse.’

“but you’ll be with me.” you reasoned. “and i don’t really talk to anyone at school either besides her so it’s literally just you and i hanging out.”

you wiggled your brows. “and drinkinggg ehh?”

he laughed and eventually nodded, reaching across the table and taking your hands in his as he agreed to go, caressing his fingers over your wrists.

the familiar scent of coffee beans and vanilla— a scent you’ve come to know for almost three years now wafted and swirled around through your nose comfortingly, it permanently reminding you of toge and the time that you’ve spent with him.

he let go of your wrists to write.

‘how was sign language yesterday? are you still good?’

you swallowed the bite you were chewing on and held back a grimace.

“oh i’m doing horrendously again… but it’s all good! ignorance is bliss and i’m choosing hardcore ignorance right now.”

toge’s jaw dropped before he laughed in disbelief and picked up his marker.

‘you’re sleeping over at my place again so i can help you no exceptions sorry about it :p’

you giggled and nodded— saluting him, a mannerism you picked up on from him as he smiled brightly.

“but i do know this!” you exclaimed excitedly as you pressed the bases of your palms together and rubbed, signing the word ‘cheese’— your favorite.

toge laughed cutely and signed the same word back, unable to do much else as the doors chimed to the shop then and a group of students came in, toge’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood before giving you a quick kiss and a ruffle to your hair, his whiteboard in hand as he started making his way to the back.

‘i love you.’ he signed and you bit your bottom lip in a smile, your heart swelling obnoxiously as you watched him shuffle on and tap a few things into the register, nodding along to the groups order as you soon after gathered your things for your afternoon class.

and that night after toge taught you a little more sign language and helped you work on the things you were struggling with, you fell asleep rather earlier than usual on his bed— him reaching for one of his fluffy blankets and draping it over your sleeping gorgeous self and staring, slowly leaning down and pressing the softest kiss ever to your little warm cheek— his chest twisting and contorting with the desire to just fucking give in and stop his stupid ridiculous suffering, to just be selfish one last time and ask you to be his.

and maybe he could.

maybe toge could allow himself this one tiny thing— the most important pretty thing of all, he felt.

just once.

“toge?” you murmured sleepily, eyes pinching a little as you lazily reached out for him.

but what if you grew tired of him? of the silence?

he delicately took your outstretched hand and hummed in question.

“come sleep.” you mumbled. “with me.”

his eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curving as he carefully tapped his index finger against your cheek repeatedly, you straining your eyes open.

‘look under your pillow.’ he signed.

your groggy eyes narrowed in confusion, barely making out what he was signing in the dark but catching key words.

“under my pillow?”

he nodded, pointing.

you breathed in and propped yourself up on your elbow, lifting the pillow you were laying on and suddenly snapping the fuck awake.

a ring.

you shot up, sitting up fully as you looked at him.

he stood and reached over for his whiteboard and marker, uncapping it and writing for a moment before flipping it around and showing you.

‘i got us matching bestest mestest friends but also in love at the same time rings :]’

you picked it up, a dainty thin silver banned ring with a milky white heart in the middle, iridescent as it glowed against the moonlight streaming through his open window.

“toge—” you breathed out. “you actually… you actually got me a ring?”

he wrote, a sly little grin on his face.

‘the tooth fairy did mouse.’

you giggled then, a vibrant pink glow to your cheeks and still a little shocked as he took the jewelry piece from you and gently grabbed your hand, sliding it over your ring finger smoothly, his ring finger already having his shiny silver band on.

he put your hand down and grabbed his whiteboard again.

‘that ring is me promising to help you and love you and kiss you until i die.’ he wrote. ‘okay?’

you quickly nodded, absolutely cheesed as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled toge in— feeling so so happy and fresh and loved, like everything was officially falling into place after nearly three years of semi crossing lines and stolen glances and unanswered questions about what exactly you both were for the longest.

your pretty pretty face had toge in a daze as you looked at him like he carried the world on his shoulders, his mouth slowly coming closer and closer to yours before softly pressing against them— slow and tender as you tugged him down to you by his shirt until he climbed in and was in between your thighs.

each kiss exchange was sensual and a mouthful as you helped toge tug his shirt off over his head, your palms running over his bare skinned chest and back as he deepened his kisses, your hands quickly pulling your shirt off and his eyes bulging at the sight of your puffy tits snug and pretty in your bra.

you were desperate for him and didn’t even have to think twice about something like this as you reached and tugged a little at his jeans, signaling him to take them the fuck off—

‘baby.’ he signed shakily, not even sure why he was asking since he doesn’t think at this point he could stop, but needing to check in with you first. ‘are you sure?’

“fuck yeah i’m sure.” you whispered quickly and unzipped his pants, toge smiling big as he kicked his pants and everything else off, carefully helping you do the same until you were bare and vulnerable in front of him.

toge moved to place a hand on your thigh and you squeaked, suddenly bashful as you shyly covered your arms over your chest and squeezed your thighs together.

he leaned down and placed gentle soft kisses on your cheeks, patting a comforting hand over your head.

‘it’s okay mouse. you’re okay.’ he signed.

you nodded, comfort washing over you as you slowly let your thighs spread and your arms reveal you, his spit catching in his throat at the sight of your gorgeous fucking body beneath him, his dick embarrassingly already leaking a little bit of cum as you watched him pump it a few times.

‘you’re beautiful.’ he signed, and you blushed.

he drooled some spit over his fingers and slid it gently in between your folds, your bottom lip coming in between your teeth as you tried to hold back your moans, his digits prepping you while slipping through your hole deeming it fucking hard as he was completely lost in it, unaware of the way he was riling you up and already building up that familiar sensation in the pit of your tummy.

“t—toge—” your pussy clenched at the way he was fucking you with his fingers, keeping your thighs apart with his other arm as he was completely drowned in the gushy sticky sounds of your hole.

“you’re gonna make me cum and i—” you panted, cute whines slipping from your lips as he looked up at you. “—i wanna cum when you’re inside—”

his cock spasmed and a drop of cum drooped out at your yummy plea, his breathing trembling as he quickly nodded and squeezed your thigh endearingly, slowly slipping his fingers out and stuffing them into his mouth to suck your juices as he pumped his cock while lining it up with your hole.

toge sunk in his dick then, the both of you groaning at the way he filled you up so fucking nice and stretched you, your pussy literally grabbing his cock and sucking him inside easily as you gripped his shoulders tight.

“mmm!—” you whimpered, toge now slowly pumping his cock inside of you as he leaned over and propped himself up by his arms, hips tenderly and deliciously rolling in as he panted and softly whined in your ear.

you were so god damn tight, his throat literally closing at the lock you had around him as he fucked you slow and breathless, one of his hands coming down to grip your waist to try and keep himself grounded and from snapping his hips into yours brutally— him wanting to make love to you and not do that just yet.

toge ducked his head down and licked over a perky tit, your breath hitching and subconsciously spreading your legs wider as he closed his lips around your nipple— suckling and laying a flat tattooed tongue over it as you moaned.

“faster—” pant! “faster please baby—”

with a mouthful of your tit he snapped his hips up, you choking as he started going a lot quicker than you anticipated as your hand flew to your mouth to keep your moans in, your tits bouncing with every fuck.

“oh my god oh my god—”

toge suddenly pulled out and threw you over, tummy to the bed as he hauled your ass up and lined himself at your entrance again, wasting no time in pushing in and screwing you in the same pace he had before.

but this new position was an absolute delicacy as you drooled over his sheets at the way he rammed his cock, the recoil of your ass sending a shiver up his spine and roughly gripping your hips and ass in anyway he could, you screaming and whining into his pillow as a series of slaps to your ass cheeks from him echoed through his little studio.

toge was about to dump the biggest fucking load in you that it was embarrassing.

you reached a hand behind you and he quickly grabbed it, his thumb running over your skin soothingly as he pistoned roughly into your cunt, him groaning and whimpering over the squelching and leaking of your hole as he felt his dick harden— his cum on the brink of release.

“fuck fuck fuck—” you hiccuped into his pillow. “baby i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum hah!—”

he gripped your hand harder and leaned down over you, rutting into your pussy as he heaved and pressed his lips up against your ear, choking out the word ‘cum’ so softly that it bypassed the confines of his situation, your eyes squeezing shut as the hardest fucking orgasm you had ever had in your life hit you like brick.

you felt toge’s hips snap up and still as his hot milky cum spilled through your walls with a grunt, gooey and slimy as it filled you up and left you squirming at the weight of it.

his breath fanned against your hair as he tried to calm it, his hand moving soothingly up and down your back as you weakly tried to gain back some consciousness, the both of you sweaty and spent with his softening dick sliding out slowly.

toge carefully nudged you back over and kissed you tenderly, his hands traveling from your back over to your tummy and smoothly caressing every part of you down to the sides of your thighs, eyes swelling in utter worship over you as he leaned back to look at you.

‘i love you baby.’ he signed, and you beamed.

and just as toge had finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend then, to officially let go of the fears he had and let himself have you— there in your arms as you peppered sweet cute kisses all over his face and over his tattooed markings on the corners of his mouth, pulling him further in to rest and sleep?

toge had a horrendous day the following morning that threw it all away.

horrendous.

it started in the morning when he left your sleeping figure quietly with a kiss to your head for his shift at work that day, excited and in a never ending state of bliss from the night before as he drove to the shop.

except he had forgotten his whiteboard at home.

toge had realized when he was already fucking halfway into the drive, a full fledged twenty five minute one that he didn’t have time to go back and repeat as he pulled up to the parking lot— cursing himself for being such a dumbass and wondering how the fuck he was gonna answer specific questions from customers, especially since he was the only one really working today.

he figured he should be fine… right? usually the people that come in already know what to get and they just read it out to him.

but there’s always a few every single day without fail that ask questions toge needed his whiteboard for. and you didn’t have class that day— so the means of you coming down there were for nothing, at least not until the party later that night.

and he didn’t want to ask anything of you…

but he really needed it.

(toge :D): hi pretty mouseee i know you’re asleep i’m sorry but is there anyway you could come to the shop when you wake up and drop off my whiteboard please? i left it on the desk like a stupid fucking idiot EL OH EL

“inumaki.”

toge froze on his walk to open the shop and looked up from his phone, eyes blowing wide.

there his manager stood, who was also the owner of the coffee shop itself, a stern look on his face with crossed arms as they both stood in front of a shattered door and windows, shards of glass twinkling on the floor.

“did you lock up last night?”

toge nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the ground.

“everything?”

he went to nod again, but stopped.

he did… he did truly he did—

…oh.

he forgot to lock up and cash in the register.

toge quickly stepped over the glass and swung open the shattered door and over to the front counter, sure enough finding the register wide open and battered with not a single fucking penny left inside.

he groaned, his hands shooting up and digging the bases of his palms into his eyes as he leaned back, lips in a thin line at how utterly fucking stupid he was for forgetting to lock up the register and take in the money— the number one thing he was always supposed to do.

“what happened?” his manager asked, hands out. “have you been not locking it up?”

toge scrambled for his phone and pulled it from his back pocket, the thought of his job literally on the line because of this sending him for a fucking ride.

‘i always lock it up, honestly.’ he typed and showed his phone. ‘but i stupidly forgot last night and i can’t express enough to you how sorry i am.’

his manager sighed deeply and dropped his hands, looking over at the open register.

“you’ve consistently been one of my best.” he spoke. “but a mistake like this isn’t something small like forgetting to properly close and wipe down everything or put up the chairs.”

toge nodded understandingly, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he shamefully looked to the side, feeling like the biggest pathetic loser for doing something like this that could’ve been entirely avoided if he just did his damn job correctly.

“it’s alright.” his manager reached and patted a heavy hand to his shoulder. “it happens. it’s just unfortunate that we got broken into right when it did.”

toge looked at him.

“we can’t open today because there’s glass everywhere… so if you can stay and call up the insurance for the shop—” he pointed to the wall, their number amongst others typed and labeled. “—and file an insurance claim in any way you can for me that’d be great. i’m gonna go down to the police station and report.”

toge quickly nodded, typing again on his phone before showing him.

‘okay sounds good. i’m really really sorry and this won’t happen again.’

his manager waved him off with a smile. “don’t sweat, inumaki. i’m pretty sure i did this too when i was working except it was my works safe and not the register…”

softly chuckling, toge nodded once more and gave his manager a tiny wave as he patted his shoulder again before stepping around the glass, leaving.

regardless of being lucky enough to have such an understanding boss, toge still felt like complete and utter shit as he stood behind the counter slumped over after, on hold with the insurance company for thirty minutes now as he stared at the broken shards and the register.

you had gotten toge’s text the minute you woke up and quickly got up to get ready, not even bothering to change into anything different as you left with his pajamas on you and his little whiteboard, hopping into your car and speeding off knowing how much he needed it for work sometimes.

and when you pulled into the shops parking lot, confusedly already noticing scattered glass on the concrete walking up, you froze in front of the coffee shop upon seeing the windows and doors completely shattered— toge propping his forehead up with his palm on the counter solemnly.

“toge?”

he looked up.

“what happened?”

his shoulders dropped in relief and he slowly came around the counter, opening his arms a little and pulling you in as he buried his face into your hair, sighing.

you hugged him back. “are you okay? did this happen right now?”

he shook his head and stepped back, taking the whiteboard from you.

‘someone broke into the shop last night. but i forgot to lock up the register and cash in the money so they stole that too.’

“oh my god!” you gasped, hands flying over your mouth. “fuucckkkk was your manager mad? don’t tell me he fired you—”

toge erased and wrote before flipping the board over.

‘no just disappointed. but i still feel like such a fucking moron for forgetting and i hate that i did.’

“toge..” you sighed sadly, running your hands over his upper arms. “it’s okay you’re human baby. these things happen so don’t feel like that please..”

he nodded a little before ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

you smiled and looked around.

“seeing the shop like this is nuts.”

he hummed in agreement.

toge stuck around for a little while, you next to him behind the counter still waiting on hold with the insurance company, feeling awfully bad for keeping you here when he knew you wanted to go shopping for a dress for the party, but him stupidly forgetting again that he couldn’t speak— too caught up in trying to make it up to his manager for his fuck up to think about how exactly he was going to talk to the insurance company on the other line, you demanding to help him.

sometime down the line when the insurance claim was filed, toge’s manager told him that if he wanted to open up the shop for the day he could, and to just sweep up the glass a little from the ground and fix up the place a little so it didn’t look like they just got robbed.

and because toge was still in his self dreaded state of guilt and shame over what happened, he immediately agreed to, trying to make up for his mistake and see if he could double the shop’s earnings for today.

“i could stay toge let me stay.” you pushed, but he only shook his head and sent you off to do the things he knew you needed to do with a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek, telling you he’d see you at his place to get ready for the party.

but maybe toge was better off telling his manager a bit fat no and going home with you, because it was like everybody that came into the shop following that had eaten a big bag of dicks and salvaged the biggest fucking attitudes out of it to spit back in his face.

no one was understanding him. no one. not a single soul. even when he used his whiteboard to explain everything that certain customers needed, for some reason the extra effort of them having to just read putting them off and yelling and making toge’s shift a living hell.

and it’s not like he’s never managed shifts on his own either— never having an issue and still putting in and preparing orders efficiently like he was supposed to, but he figured the debacle from this morning was setting him off since he couldn’t do anything right at the moment, the attitude he was getting from literally every single fucking customer leaving him wishing he at least had one more person on the floor with him.

but toge was still blaming himself.

why couldn’t anyone understand him? why couldn’t he just speak? his life would be so much easier if he could… and you would’ve been his a long time ago.

so as toge sat there tiredly after work with his eyes closed on a stool next to you in his bathroom, you applying the finishing touches to your hair and makeup— you could practically feel toge’s exhaustion, frustration, and sadness seeping into your skin and insides over the shift he told you he had, your eyebrows pinching anxiously.

“we don’t have to go baby…” you murmured, looking down and playing with the rings on your fingers. “i would much rather stay here with you so you can relax for a little…”

he slowly peeled his eyes open, the sight of you standing there in front of him— so fucking beautiful in your dress and heels and dolled up in the way that you were, made his cheeks buzz pink as he slumped forward and mushed his cheek up against your tummy, wrapping his arms around you and shaking his head.

“are you sure?” you asked gently, running your fingers over his soft hair. “i don’t mind what we do toge… as long as with you i’m okay.”

his heart jumped as he looked up and gave you a cute smile, nodding.

you’d decided to meet in the middle and just go home early so toge could have enough rest for his shift tomorrow, him driving you both to the sorority house and parking a bit down the street amongst dozens of other cars, a little nervous and apprehensive and wondering what he was gonna do if any of your friends came up to talk to him— but the desire to make you happy and accompany you to something that you were so excited for far, far greater.

the night went smoothly for the most part, you in no time at all spotting your friend that initially invited you through the crowd along with some of your other friends that you had no idea were coming in the first place, introducing toge to each one and him giving a small smile and wave in response as he interlaced your fingers and gladly let you lead him to wherever you wanted through the dark and blue lit house, taking sips occasionally of the tequila orange liquor mix from his red solo cup and funnily from yours too— since you had gotten a different punch like flavor that he liked better.

“y/n? i didn’t know you were coming!”

your head snapped to the voice just as you were talking to toge, your eyes widening and a huge smile spreading across your face.

“oh hey! i didn’t know you were either!” you quickly turned to toge. “he’s in my sign language class the one i told you about that teaches us how to cuss—”

your friend laughed, “you talk about me y/n? interestinggg.”

toge quirked a brow.

“not like that—” you slapped his shoulder. “i talk about you so i can build up the stamina to rat you out.”

he gasped dramatically. “says the one who bothered me last class to teach her how to sign the word cunt.”

“no i didn’t— wait actually i did.”

your friend laughed again but diverted his attention momentarily to someone pulling on his arm a bit.

toge nudged you gently and you turned.

‘i’m gonna go get a drink mouse.’ he signed.

“okay!” you nodded. “i’ll wait for you here.”

he nodded, kissing your head before leaving— the kitchen not too far from where you both were originally at as he walked and threw away the drink he had initially and scanned the counter, looking for the fruity punch one you got before spotting it and picking one up from the rows of others, the smell of alcohol filling his nostrils.

“hey sorry to bother, which flavor is that?”

toge froze and looked over, a girl standing there and pointing at his cup.

oh shit.

toge pointed to his cup.

“yeah, which flavor is that one? i’ve tried the others but not that one yet.”

oh fuck.

why couldn’t he just talk?

the girl quirked a brow at his silence, and just when she was about to say something else, someone came through the kitchen.

“i think that one’s tutti frutti but i could be wrong.”

she turned to the other person and nodded, giving toge an awkward look before walking around him to get a cup for herself.

toge covered his eyes with a hand in complete fucking mortifying embarrassment, cheeks warm as he leaned against the kitchen sink in the lowest low he had ever lowed.

or so he thought.

because the sound of your loud pretty laughter had him slowly looking up and taking his hand away, you conversing so— so openly and freely with your friend from sign language triggering a hint of jealousy and bitterness in his chest. bitter as to why he was cursed to deal with something like this, bitter over the loser that was blatantly obviously flirting with you… but jealous of him that he was able to open his mouth and speak to you in whatever words and phrases he wanted, syllables flying out without any sort of pain or blood as a paying price like he had to.

that’s what you needed… that’s what you should have. not him.

not his inevitable silence and whiteboards and constant pauses, his lack of being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him whenever, wherever… without being tied down to a marker or a phone.

his mixup from this morning, his customers not understanding him, everybody else not understanding him, has led him to believe that someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t carry the burden of even trying to.

toge knew from the very first time you came into the coffee shop that you were going to unknowingly break his heart if he let you in because of his situation… and fuck did he let you in.

and now he had to break yours so you could find and be with what you deserved.

toge walked over to you then, head down with his jaw tight and mind fogged over as you doubled over in laughter over something your friend said.

“wait—” you gasped. “wait toge he just told me that—”

“is he your boyfriend?” you friend asked, pointing to him.

well, toge still hadn’t really asked you… but he gave you a promise ring, and you were both wearing them tonight so—

your eyes snapped to toge, who was shaking his head no.

…no?

your brows furrowed.

“oh! i thought you guys were together, my bad.”

toge twitched over the way your friend sounded relieved, but you didn’t notice a thing, still looking at him with the most gutting look that made him want to scream.

“yeah.. my bad too.” you mumbled, your friend not catching it as he then got pulled by the shoulder to a different crowd, him calling over that he would come find you later on in the night.

“no?” you repeated to him.

‘come with me outside.’ he signed before slowly walking and leading you back to the kitchen and through the backyard doors, the chilling cold night air a refreshing break from the stuffiness inside.

“if this is a joke it’s not that funny toge.” you mumbled, hugging yourself as you closed the door behind you.

he looked at you sadly.

‘you shouldn’t be with me mouse.’ he signed.

“what?” you breathed out. “what are you talking about?”

‘i can’t give you what you need.’

“what i need?”

he nodded. ‘it won’t work. you and me.’

“toge—” your chest picked up speed, tears prickling a bit at your eyes. “you’re telling me all of this yet no answers— why won’t we work.”

‘you should be with someone that can talk to you and tell you that they love you and say anything without all of this baggage—’

“wait wait slow down i can’t—” you put your hands out. “you’re signing too fast i can’t understand you—”

you couldn’t understand him.

and toge realized that the reasoning he had would be something that you would counter and fight for, and something he would more than one hundred percent give in to you winning just so he could have you again.

he needed to make you hate him so it would be easier for you to move on.

toge dropped his arms, a defeated look on his face as he shoved a hand in his pocket for his phone, typing out a message to you.

you received it on the other end, your phone illuminating your face as you opened it.

(toge :D): i realized after we confessed that this isn’t what i want anymore and im sorry

your jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him.

“what the fuck do you mean.”

his thumbs shook as he typed, his heart pulling and screaming at the muscles and nerves tied to them for him to stop.

(toge :D): we’re better off as just friends. i’m really sorry that i realized after the fact. you deserve someone better anyways and i just don’t think it’s with me.

you let out a sob that ripped him to shreds, hand coming over your mouth in disbelief as you stared at the blurry screen in your grasp.

he realized this after the fact? after messing around with you for almost three years? after confessing to you and saying he loves you? after being intimate?

you felt fucking used.

“you’re realizing this now?” you shook your head. “toge— you realize we’ve been flirting like this for as long as we’ve known each other and all of a sudden you’re pulling back? after you got your fucking fill? after kissing me and telling me that you love me, and— and after—”

you ran an exasperated trembling hand through your hair. “toge we had sex and you’re telling me this isn’t what you want?”

god this is everything he wants.

but toge bit his tongue, him strained all over with a locked painful jaw as you yelled at him, his eyes glossy over how much he was hurting you as he stiffly nodded.

you stepped closer, jabbing a finger to his chest. “look at me in the eyes right now and tell me if our entire fucking friendship before leading up to our bullshit confessions was all a lie. tell me right now if this—” you held your hand up, the promise ring he gave you shimmering under the fairy lights of the backyard. “—was a lie when you promised me that you would always help me and love me.”

toge breathed in and out shakily, swallowing thickly as he slowly nodded, his entire body in absolute detriment.

holy fucking shit.

how long had you been this stupid for you to not realize the kind of person he actually was?

but— but it didn’t make any sense. this wasn’t toge. this wasn’t toge at all you didn’t know who the fuck you were yelling at right now because toge would never do this to you.

“do you know why i’m learning sign language in the first place?”

toge blinked back tears, shaking his head no.

“i started taking sign language for you, asshole!” you sobbed. “when i was stupidly crushing on you at the shop before we talked for the first time, i noticed you knew sign language and i signed up for you so it’d be easier for you to communicate with me without always having to use your whiteboard.”

he felt a pang to his heart, harshly wiping his eyes.

“but even then i don’t fucking care toge! you could have absolutely nothing to talk to me with and i’d still love you and do anything for you because that’s how much i’m in love you!”

you sobbed as your shoulders shook violently, hands covering your eyes.

“glad to know the feelings not mutual.”

oh he takes it back.

he takes it all back.

toge reached for your hands and you pushed him away.

“you’re so full of shit toge.” you sniffled. “if this is what you want then fine. take this fucking—”

you slipped the ring off from your finger and threw it at him, the feeling of it thudding against his chest and clinking to the ground beneath his feet close enough to a damn bullet.

he shook his head frantically, picking up your ring and following you up the steps of the porch, grabbing your hand and pulling you back, but you only shaking it off and trudging on forward.

“mouse—” he spoke. “please stop—”

the sound of his rare voice made you freeze in place, unmoving and feeling guilt pool in your stomach at the sound of him reeling over and coughing violently as a result.

he spoke to you… but his dreaded words from earlier still lingered in your mind, betrayal etched into your chest like a tattoo.

“don’t call me that.” you mumbled over your shoulder, swinging the door open to the kitchen and slamming it shut.

toge heard nothing from you for four weeks.

even through all of the calls and texts he sent you, he started to conclude that you actually blocked his number the moment you left him that night, unable to see his actual explanation through the masses of messages he sent you and still continued to even after confirming the thought that you had blocked him.

he couldn’t believe himself. he couldn’t believe he actually hurt you and drove you away like that.

and toge had never felt so much self hatred, missing you like fucking crazy throughout those weeks— it reminding him of that one time when you first started getting to know each other where you disappeared for a week, except far far worse now that you had both built so much together over the years.

his life felt empty now that you weren’t in it.

and funnily enough, his job— something he had gotten before you, now solely reminding him of you as he tried to work without throwing something over the random flashbacks he’d have of that night, blending and serving drinks and sliding them over the pickup counter all meaningless if you weren’t there at your usual table to give him a cheeky smile and sign the word ‘cheese’ to make him laugh on the other side.

his little mouse.

and toge silently cried almost every night at his desk, him clutching your ring.

you were basically the same way as him, if not fucking lower as you were the one that was practically presumably dumped and used, you unable to sleep for hours on end in your bed and your parents wondering what the hell happened between the two of you as they tried to console your tears through your restless nights, you half in denial that this was your reality and toge was out of your life.

after some time, you realized that you had left nearly half of your things in toge’s apartment, it settling into your mind how much time you actually spent with him and not at your own house as you constantly found yourself needing things but couldn’t have them because they were over there— one of those things unfortunately being your freaking sign language textbook.

there was absolutely no way you could get it, and you opted to borrowing your friends for the longest time… but by the time you reached the beginning of the fifth week without toge, you started feeling really bad for continuously bothering your friend for her book when you could just suck it up and get yours.

so you made your jumbled mind up and reached for your phone one day after your morning class, going to toge’s contact number and unblocking him before texting.

(you): hi. sorry to bother but i left some things in your apartment that i need. i was wondering if i could come by today to get them.

toge nearly jumped out of his skin at your pretty name flashing across his phone while he was lazily and depressingly laying in bed, scrambling to type back not even a minute later.

(toge): yes of course

(toge): i’m home right now if you want to come

(toge): and you’re never a bother

you pursed your lips, a lump building in your throat.

(you): okay. i’ll be there in a few minutes.

toge flung his scattered clothing inside his closet or literally anywhere that was out of eyesight, trying to turn his rut of a room back to how it looked like when you were always here, shaking out a big garbage bag and throwing all of his trash in there (along with all of the cake pop, cheese danish, and blueberry scone wrappers…), opening the blinds and straightening out his sheets.

you pulled into his apartment complex parking lot and parked not too long after, your hands drenched in sweat and your body rigid as you came up to his floor and over to his apartment number, knocking even though you had the key.

you almost turned back to leave once you heard his padded footsteps, but decided against is as he was already opening the door.

and my god, seeing him hurt a lot more than you thought it would.

his eyes were soft as they looked at you, and red like yours, him quickly stepping to the side to let you in and you doing so with your head down, not saying a single word.

“i think—” you shakily spoke, eyes already watering as he closed his door with a click. “i think i’m just gonna get my sign language textbook for now i’ll come back some other time for the rest—”

you felt a little tug at your hand, and you turned, his shoulders slumping at your teary eyes, stray droplets slipping down your cheeks already.

‘please don’t cry.’ he signed. ‘i’m so sorry for everything.’

you snorted, shaking your head as you reached behind you to get your textbook.

“sorry for stringing me along and using every part of me until you were bored? sure.”

he frantically shook his head no, panic rising in his chest as he watched you step around him and head for the door.

he couldn’t let you leave.

because he had a feeling if he did, he actually would never see you again.

toge quickly grabbed your wrist and tugged you back around.

“what toge—”

‘stay for a bit.’ he shakily signed. ‘please just stay and let me explain.’

you followed his signage, and your eyes narrowed. “explain what? there’s nothing to explain—”

toge swiped his phone from his bed and opened it, going to your contact to type out a message.

you hesitantly pulled yours out and waited, your phone vibrating against your hand once he sent it over.

(toge): i lied about absolutely everything i said that night. i don’t think any of those things at all. i’ve wanted you so fucking bad from the start y/n, i’ve been ready to be with you i don’t think for a second we’re better off as friends i want more with you always and for the rest of my life.

what?

he sent another message.

(toge): i said what i said because throughout our friendship i told myself like a fucking idiot that i couldn’t let you all the way in because i can’t talk. i kept thinking that you needed someone who you can talk to you whenever you want without having to always step back and read or write like you have to with me. i didn’t want you to carry that baggage and deal with me and i just felt like a burden, and i love you so fucking much that i wanted better for you.

you sniffled and wiped your cheeks, you rubbing away lonesome tears that landed on your phone screen.

(toge): but i’m selfish baby i’ve BEEN selfish. i said those horrible things to you so it’d be easier for you to move on and im so sorry. none of them are true. i don’t want you to move on from me. i didn’t use you i could never and that night we had sex was the most meaningful experience of my life. i love you more than anything in my life, and im gonna be selfish again and please ask you to come back to me. you’re my best friend and more, and i still believe that you need someone better and that can give you more than i can, but i just can’t let you go man i’ve been physically sick for four weeks without you.

you cried still and he typed again.

(toge): i’m selfish and i’m in love with you mouse. i’m sorry.

“toge!” you cried and chucked your phone to his bed, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling him in a tight embrace— the weight completely lifting off both of your shoulders at the feeling of your bodies pressed against each others like a perfect little key in a lock, toge hugging you back so so fucking tight with his face in your neck that he practically squeezed the air out of your lungs entirely.

“i love you.” he spoke, his words incredibly powerful in your ear even though it couldn’t have been more than a mere whisper, the sound and depth of his voice ringing through your head and one you wanted to remember forever and ever, feeling so incredibly loved over the fact that he’d use his voice for you even when it hurt him so much.

but he really didn’t need to. you just wanted him.

and you’ve never been so happy to hear someone tell you that they lied.

toge pulled back a bit and turned his head to the side, stuffing his mouth into the crook of his elbow and coughing.

you pressed your cheek against his once he was done, kissing it a few times beforehand and him closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips on his skin after so long.

“you okay?” you murmured softly, and he nodded.

“i love you too, toge.” you tightened your arms around his neck. “please don’t ever think that you’re a burden or giving me baggage to carry. i’ve never ever felt that way and neither should you.”

you stepped back and cupped his cheeks.

“i need you, baby. i don’t need anything or anyone else but you. someone that has the ability to talk can’t give me even ten percent of what you’ve been giving me. i’m happy with you. the happiest i’ve ever been is when i’m with you… okay?”

toge grinned, huge and shiny as he nodded and leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss— the both of you utterly deprived as your mouths smacked and moved in haste, his hands running and squeezing over your body with labored breathing between the two of you.

he pulled apart for a second and you stopped.

“what baby?” you breathed, watching as he raised his arms.

‘please be my girlfriend mouse.’ he signed. ‘or i’ll die.’

you giggled cutely and a blush rose on both of your sore cheeks from smiling so much, you happily nodding and roughly pulling him back in to continue.

and how lucky was toge to have such a sweet little mouse that cared for him this much? for someone who couldn’t even speak? who had the greatest level of patience and not once ever complained about the burden she had to carry?

you learned sign language for him. solely for him. the reasons he was thinking about how he’d be baggage to you, was amazingly the total opposite on your end, as you didn’t want to be baggage to him when it came down to communication with you— as if something like that were ever even possible.

and you learned sign language for him— a totally beautiful and different and complex language that was iterated through the feeling of arms and body, to be read across with purposeful moving hands and symbols and diligent fingers— somehow looking even more beautiful when it was you that was doing it.

silence was toge’s greatest form of love… one that you received with open arms and acceptance without a twinge of judgement in your heart, and one that toge only ever wanted you to receive.

you.

his little mouse.

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[cinnahoons]

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐘𝐍‎𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; " 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 ! "

// 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ‘𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽’ 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 ✧

ㅤ( 𝟤𝟣𝟨𝟣 ) fluff, f!reader, established relationships, flirting, lots of offended boyfriends lol ── 𝖡𝖮𝖮𝖪𝖲𝖧𝖤𝖫𝖥 ｡⠀

✶ LEE HEESEUNG 

it’s late, and you’re both sprawled out across heeseung’s bed, legs tangled somewhere in the sheets. the glow of your phone screen keeps casting soft shadows across his face. he’s got his arm resting loosely over your stomach, his thumb tracing thoughtless circles just above the hem of your shirt. the soft scent of detergent fills your senses, and you fight the urge to burrow your face into his skin. 

heeseung’s half-awake. he scrolls with one hand, his lashes low and mouth parted slightly as you shift beside him and prop your phone up against a pillow. you hit record without ceremony, turning just enough to smile at the camera.

“just winding down with my current boyfriend,” you murmur, light and easy.

there’s a pause, in which he blinks a couple times and then turns his head toward you: eyes soft, expression unreadable, his thumb still idly moving against your side.

“…current?” he repeats, voice rough with sleep.

you hum. he holds your gaze for a long moment; not offended, not jealous, just faintly amused. then he lets out a breathy laugh, shifting to rest on one elbow. the blanket falls slightly off his shoulder.

“huh,” he says. “current’s a weird word for someone who keeps stealing my clothes.”

you grin at him. “they’re comfy.”

“mm.” he pauses like he’s considering something. “so is exclusivity.”

you laugh, nudging his shoulder, and he’s still watching you with a lazy, half-lidded look, the kind  he gets when he’s on the edge of falling asleep and still doesn’t want to miss anything.

“you want me to say last boyfriend?” you ask.

he shrugs, but his fingers tap twice against your wrist, all soft and rhythmic. “you don’t have to.”

“but you’d like it.”

“...i’d like it,” he says, simple and sure.

your smile softens. heeseung shifts closer again, pressing a kiss just under your jaw before settling back into the pillow, his voice quiet as he adds:

“just in case you forget where home is.”

✶ PARK JONGSEONG 

you’re leaning against the kitchen island while jay finishes plating up dinner, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up and gold ring glinting on his hand as he reaches for the pepper grinder.

your phone is already recording before he glances up, catching your eye.

“filming again?” he asks, amused.

“mhm,” you hum. “just getting a clip with my current boyfriend.”

he freezes. not just a little pause—a full on, blank stare. he doesn’t even blink.

you watch, holding back a laugh, as his expression flickers through at least five emotions.

then, very seriously: “you mean husband.”

“husband?” you laugh, incredulous. “you’re my current boyfriend.”

jay sets the pepper grinder down with surgical precision, walking over to you like a man on a mission.

“say it with me,” he starts, holding up one finger. “H.”

“jay—”

“U.”

you’re giggling now, but he’s persistent, stepping closer, one hand bracing on the counter beside your waist.

“come on. you wanna do this on camera? let’s do it right. say: husband. i’ll even do the dishes.”

you raise a brow. “just for that?”

he leans in, voice low against your ear. “also because i love you more than anyone on earth and your mom already likes me. but mostly the dishes.”

✶ SIM JAKE 

it’s golden hour, the sky split open in orange and peach, and jake’s standing barefoot on the patio with one hand on his hip and the other brandishing a pair of tongs like a weapon. he’s got an apron on and his sleeves are pushed up just enough to show the veins on his forearm. the air is filled with the tantalizing scent of grilled meat and seasoning, a light breeze fluttering your hair.

you’re sitting on a cooler, filming him from behind your lemonade.

“just grilling with my current boyfriend,” you say casually, zooming in on the way he flips a burger. he glances over his shoulder, unblinking.

“yep,” jake says, cool as ever. “me and my girlfriend at the moment.”

you pause, and he flashes an innocent smile at the camera. “she’s on a trial run. depends on how these burgers turn out.”

“oh my god.”

“what?” he shrugs, teasing.

you try to act annoyed,  but he’s already walking over with a plate of food, nudging your knee with his hip so you’ll make room for him. he sits beside you, setting a plate down in front of you. “you get the first one. for old time’s sake.”

you stare at him, unimpressed. “we’re still dating.”

“for now,” he says, ignoring his own words and biting into your burger.

“you’re insufferable.”

he wipes his mouth with a paper towel, grin crooked. “but still your boyfriend… currently.”

✶ PARK SUNGHOON 

you’re both in the bathroom getting ready to go out. the mirror lights are on full blast, hair tools scattered across the counter, and the air smells like his cologne and your perfume layered on top of each other. he’s standing behind you in a crisp button-down, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with impeccable focus.

you set your phone up on the edge of the sink, press record, and lean slightly into the frame with a small smile.

“filming a quick ootd with my current boyfriend,” you say casually, tilting the camera to catch both of you in the mirror.

you’re smiling. he’s not. his fingers pause on the second cuff, gaze flicking up to the mirror. not at the camera, not at you, just a slow, almost imperceptible blink like he’s just been personally wronged by god.

you try to stifle a laugh. “hoon?”

no answer. he inhales slowly through his nose, finishes the cuff, and then continues his routine like nothing happened. except now, he’s noticeably quieter and calmer, almost eerily composed.

“...what?” you prompt again, already giggling. “you’re not gonna say anything?”

he finally speaks, his voice polite: “you’re gonna want to run that back.”

you lose it.

cut to a second clip.

same mirror, same lighting. but this time, sunghoon’s standing closer, arms crossed loosely over his chest, one brow lifted at the camera. you hold the phone up properly now, barely containing your smile. “filming a quick ootd with my husband,” you say sweetly.

he nods once, solemnly. you turn the camera toward him. “anything you want to say?”

he looks directly into the lens, a satisfied smile gracing his lips.

“just that i accept your apology. and that i’ll be changing the dinner reservation name to mr. and mrs. park.”

✶ KIM SUNOO 

you’re curled up together on the couch in your usual configuration: legs tangled under a shared blanket, your foot tucked beneath his thigh, his head propped up on a throw pillow that he fluffed to perfection before sitting down. the TV is playing something you’ve both already seen three times, which means sunoo is only half paying attention, scrolling his phone with idle little pouts at whatever he’s reading, his fingertips occasionally brushing yours like he just wants to make sure you’re still there.

he looks peaceful, relaxed, and completely unsuspecting. it’s perfect. 

you smile to yourself and lean over slightly, propping your phone up against the base of a candle on the coffee table. you clear your throat just enough to get his attention.

“just relaxing with my current boyfriend!” you coo.

you don’t even get to blink before sunoo’s head snaps up so fast you swear you almost get second-hand whiplash. “current boyfriend?”

you nod. he lets out an indignant gasp so dramatic it startles the cat lounging on the arm of your couch.

“current?”

“yeah,” you say sweetly. “just for now.”

he yanks your phone from where it’s sitting and stares into the camera like he’s on a reality show. “for the record, i’d like to say i’m being emotionally manipulated.”

“sunoo—”

“no. no. because i have done nothing but love her. i let her wear my moisturizer. my laneige. the expensive one. i call her pretty every day.” he turns to you now, eyes wide with betrayal. “do you know how many people want to be me?”

you’re laughing so hard you nearly fall off the couch. he reluctantly lets you pull him back, though not before delivering one final glance at the phone and whispering:

“delete it. or caption it current boyfriend who deserves better.” 

✶ YANG JUNGWON 

your room is quiet except for the soft shuffle of notebook pages and the occasional scratch of your highlighter dragging across text. the two of you are camped out on the floor, your legs draped over his as he leans back on one hand, casually quizzing you on terms you definitely should’ve memorized three days ago.

he’s halfway through peeling the corner of a granola bar wrapper when you set your phone on the edge of your nightstand, screen angled just barely toward the two of you. it’s subtle. he clocks it, but doesn’t say anything. you click record.

“study night with my current boyfriend,” you announce softly, eyes still on your notes.

jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. he finishes unwrapping the granola bar, breaks it in half, and offers you the bigger piece without looking up.

“hmm,” he hums. “temporary. that’s new.”

you glance at him. he’s still reading over your notes, impassive, like you didn’t just call him disposable to the internet.

“nothing to say about that?” you tease, poking at his knee with your foot.

he finally looks up, entirely unaffected, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

“should i be worried?” he asks, tone light, eyes sharp. “is this the part where you trade me in for someone who doesn’t double check your citations?”

you laugh, but he’s already pulling a highlighter from the pile and uncapping it for you.

“no, really,” he continues, gesturing toward your notes. “write that down. that’s good. current boyfriend. sounds professional. clinical. a little sterile, but i’m sure devon will love it.”

“who the hell is devon?”

“your next boyfriend,” he replies easily. “hopefully he likes sour gummies. i just trained you out of the orange ones.”

you’re already losing it, giggling into your sleeve, and he just shakes his head, flipping back to your vocab list like this is all part of a recurring bit he’s well-versed in.

“let me know if he needs my login for the quizlet,” he adds absently. “seems rude to leave him hanging.”

you reach for his arm, pulling him toward you with a laugh, and he lets you, leaning in close with that same unbothered grin.

“mm,” he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “current boyfriend, huh?”

you grin at him. “maybe.”

he leans in, tapping his pen lightly against your forehead.

“then i guess i better make you fall in love with me again tonight.”

✶ NISHIMURA RIKI 

he’s deep into a match when you come in, his legs folded pretzel-style in his desk chair, controller balanced loosely between his hands. he’s got his headset pushed down around his neck so you can hear both the game audio and his occasional muttered commentary. the screen casts a glow across his face, all cool blues and blinking reds, but he still looks impossibly pretty like this. focused, relaxed, and completely in his element.

you snake your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing your cheek to the side of his head. he doesn’t startle, just shifts slightly to let you in closer before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, tapping something on the controller with the practiced ease of someone who could do this with his eyes closed.

“say hi,” you whisper near his ear, already angling your phone to catch both of you in the shot. “this is my current boyfriend.”

he glances at the screen, grinning without missing a beat. “yo.”

you snort, turning to look at him. he catches your movement in the corner of his eye.

“what? you think you’re slick?”

you hum innocently. he turns his head a little more now, squinting at you. “fine. run that back. say final.”

you laugh, already shaking your head. “final?”

“i’m not getting replaced,” he murmurs, mock-offended.

you try to answer, but the laughter bubbles up too fast to stop. he clicks something on his controller, dies instantly in-game, and turns to face you immediately. he points a finger at your phone camera, which is still recording.

“hey. first and final.”

you laugh. “riki—” 

“no, no. it’s fine.” he leans back dramatically, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “i’ll just reinvent myself real quick. learn french or something. start doing pilates. maybe become emotionally unavailable and change my name to something mysterious like... lucien.”

you snort, forehead pressing into the curve of his shoulder. “you already dye your hair every six weeks. you don’t need to be more mysterious.”

“exactly,” he says, with the kind of confident shrug that suggests this was his point all along. “i’m the final boyfriend. nobody’s falling for your little prank.”

© cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.

[ybklix]

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

۶ৎ giving your boyfriend a gift that will help him in his long and lonely nights when you can’t be there for him. ⋆˚࿔ pairing: idol bf felix x fem reader

cw: mdni, smut, softdom felix, masturbation, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, sextape, sextoys, slight dirty talk, pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, backshots, creampie.

wc: 7.3k

｡°❀ 🫧 into you by ariana grande ‧ꕤ.ﾟ🫧 good for you by selena gomez ｡°❀ 🫧pornstar by nessa barret ‧ꕤ.ﾟ🫧

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

wen’s note: im delulu rn, I love my man :3 !! sorry (a freshly cooked fic—that hasn’t been in the drafts for monthssss, enjoy) + im backkk yassss:)

It’s your last day. The last day the two of you will be together, physically, for a long time. In a few hours, very early in the morning, you will take a flight back ‘home’ —if you can call home wherever Felix isn’t with you— and you will feel nothing but sadness and emptiness. You just know that days are approaching when a video call with him is what keeps you happy.

Your love life with Felix is facing another challenge: overcoming the distance between you. You don’t usually complain much about it, as you don’t want to be a burden to Felix, constantly complaining how much you miss him when he has to go far away, doing what he is most passionate about in the world, you know how much it means to him to be on stage, so you shut up all the whims you think because of the huge need to have him next to you all the time. So sadly, it’s just your last day on your quick visit, and, as much as you’d like to be there for him, going from city to city, country to country on his tour, you both have your respective lives. It was so painful just thinking about when the next time you will be able to see him.

So, you just decide to enjoy every moment together, trying not to think about the cruel reality that is approaching. Tonight, you are about to go out, taking advantage of the fact that it’s Felix’s short break and his concert is tomorrow. So you’re getting all dolled up, trying a soft and subtle makeup, pretty enough to take pictures with your boyfriend and calm your hair as best as you can, while choosing a cute, modest and inconspicuous outfit, since you’ll be wearing a cap anyway, because you have to go incognito all the time with Felix, plus Seungmin and Jeongin would join your date, just to have them as the perfect excuse if someone recognizes your super star boyfriend, so their eyes would go to the super star trio and not you and Felix only.

Night is just falling, painting the sky a beautiful color and reflecting in the huge window of the hotel room. Felix is face down on the bed, using his brand-new cellphone, relaxed and happy, waiting for you to finish getting ready so he can call his friends and go out to explore the city.

“Wow, baby, the quality is insane.”

You hear Felix say, happy and excited, followed by the sheets shifting, indicating that he has stood up. You come out of the bathroom, with a smile as you put on your earrings and see your boyfriend, standing in front of the large window filming the view with his cell phone.

“Really? Let me see, love” you reply, moving closer to him.

As soon as Felix hears your voice and senses your presence, he turns his body with a tender smile and records you approaching him. Felix seems to be happy with the gift of his new cell phone, which he made a whole advertising campaign for. He records you standing in front of him for a few seconds, and then turns his body with his device towards the cityscape behind the window. You crane your neck to see the screen, but you turn your attention away when you see how cute your boyfriend looks, his tender smile and his carefree no-makeup look perfectly highlighting the smoothness of his skin with his visible freckles. You said nothing more than a simple:

“I’m almost ready… just let me put on my setting spray and gloss. You can call Seungmin and Jeongin already if you want.”

Felix keeps recording, motioning his arm gently, he gives you a quick glance along with a smile as a sign that he heard you, and you walk to complete your look so you can stroll with your boyfriend, one night before you leave and not see him for a month.

“Oh, almost forgot!” Felix exclaims, he stops recording and puts the cell phone back in his pocket quickly; you turn to look at him, confused since he got your attention. “I’ll help you pack so you don’t come from the date doing it.”

“Oh, Felix, you don’t have to…” you comment sweetly, touched that he feels he has to help you with everything.

He doesn’t listen to you, and you watch him tenderly take from one of the bedroom chairs the Louis Vuitton travel bag in its classic, signature print that he gifted you, and places it on the bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetheart. Go finish getting ready, I’ll help you with this real quick.”

You chuckle softly, and in less than two minutes, you’re completely ready. You approach your boyfriend, playfully and plop down on the bed, close to him and your bag, as you watch him tenderly folding your clothes that were lying on the bed and arrange them inside the bag.

“I’m ready” you say, with a sigh.

The truth is, you don’t want the day to go on as it means it’s getting less and less time before you have to go and leave him.

“I’m almost done, princess. You look beautiful, by the way” he replies, focused on your clothes.

You let him do it because you know he’s a bit stubborn, and then he’d go and complain to you that you need to get your act together. You watch him, nonchalant, in no hurry for him to finish, staying with him like this, even in the silence, feels so good, so right, and calm.

Felix can’t help but blush, though, realizing that this is the fifth set of lingerie he’s had to pack for a trip you’ve only been with him for three days. So he jokes a little with you about it.

“Mmm… you kind of packed a lot of lingerie, don’t you think, princess? I’ve seen more pretty panties than blouses of yours.”

Felix raises his gaze, watching you with a playful, suggestive look and a mischievous smile as he carefully folds one of your blue panties, a part of the full set. You smile broadly, you can’t help it, still feeling a smoldering embarrassment with mischief.

“I know. I’m sorry… I didn’t know which one was the best, so I brought several options.”

“Whatever you wear looks beautiful on you” he whispers softly, causing heat to your cheeks.

Felix takes another pair of cheeky panties and spreads them out, teasing you with a smirk.

“Can I keep one?” his eyebrow twitches, cheekily.

“Felix!” you laughed, your eyes widening in surprise and playfully snatching the garment from him to drop it into your purse, your cheeks burning hot, as if he hadn’t seen all of you before. “The boys are going to think they’re your panties... but it’s okay, you can keep them, you’re the one who buys them for me, anyway.” You tilt your head, “Do you want something sweet to remember me?” you joke, teasing him.

He laughs, licking his lips, staring at you as he instinctively bites his bottom lip. “Which one will you wear tonight for me, huh? You have plenty of options, doll…. You should have modeled all your options for me, I’d have loved to see that.”

His voice sounds rough, a confession somewhere between a joke and a tone of absolute truth. You know perfectly well how much he loves to dress you in pretty lingerie, tease you in it and then end up naked, or just fucking you with it on. Felix stops his action, waiting for a response from you, but with the intensity of his gaze, you were already short of breath. There is a feigned innocence in his sweet face that contrasts with that look and soft grin you know so well. He is trying to start something.

“I can do it tonight… but can you handle it?” you raise your eyebrows, subtly teasing him further.

Your intentions are not to start something sexual just now, you were just about to go out on the town… two of his best friends are waiting to be given the signal to go out the four of you… but the way he smiles, superficially running the tip of his tongue across his lips to then catch his muscle between his teeth, is giving you another kind of impression... A subtle, cheeky, kind of dirty impression.

He looks at you for a few seconds, doesn’t respond, and lowers his gaze back to your clean clothes, ready to pack, and that’s when you notice his true intention.

“Oh look at this one, it’s too pretty, why didn’t you wear it for me?”

Felix changes the subject, still using his flirtatious and suggestive tone. You watch his hands take from the small pile of clothes a tiny piece of clothing, a white thong so sheer it covered practically nothing and, he subtly shows it to you.

You feel warmth in your cheeks again. Somehow you find it slightly embarrassing when he shows it to you like this, so suddenly. But what’s slowly ruining it for you is knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted.

“Although I confess… there’s not much to wear with this so small” he laughs, examining the garment.

You watch your boyfriend’s face, his gaze lingering on that garment you packed when you thought of him, when you thought of all the nights you couldn’t be together and how much you wanted to make up for all that time. The shame leaves your body as you notice how obviously excited Felix is now, you know him so well, despite him wearing an oversized shirt, you can notice so clearly the change in his breathing, the change in his gaze, his more serious expression.

He looks back at you, almost guilty that his thoughts have been discovered and you find his reaction adorable, quickly looking away from you and sighing subtly in halting breath as he puts the thong in your bag, pretending nothing happened.

You examine him. The silence speaks for itself, in a way it’s loaded with adorable tension, because you love him too much, because you know what he wants but you both don’t know how to say it… at least the first few seconds. You smile happily, thinking it’s cute that he’s most likely already hard from just imagining you in that little garment… and you find it ridiculous… because Felix had you right there, now, in front of him, willing and madly in love with him, if your boyfriend wants to fuck you right now, he can. Now, while he still can.

“Felix” you call his name softly.

Now you’re the one looking at him intently.

“Mhumm?” he hums softly, unable to look you in the eye.

It’s true. You know him so well. Felix is terribly and helplessly aroused. Just with the power of his thought, with your closeness, with the intoxicating smell of your perfume that drives him crazy… at the same time he is just as, if not more, sad than you as he tries to pretend that everything is fine, but he is going to miss you deeply. Not seeing you until further notice��� until you both can match… is killing him alive.

“You want me to wear it… for you?”

“Wear what, my love?” he pretends not to know, but his erection grows each time in his pants.

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking clearly… maybe that he’ll just get over the feeling, that he’ll be fine and have you all to himself after your nice date. But who is he fooling, he is never casual about you, neither takes you lightly. You on the other hand, know exactly what state his body and mind is in… but you can’t confirm it due to the bag blocking your view of his bulge a bit.

“The… thong you said was pretty.”

You feel slightly embarrassed. You find the word thong immaturely amusing.

Felix dares to look at you, notices the seriousness of your face, your cheeks slightly pink naturally beyond the blush you’re wearing. So what if you both want it? He’s your boyfriend and can tell you anything with confidence. Still, he responds demurely:

“Yes, when we come from the date. You’ll look beautiful in it.”

Felix flashes a smile and remains determined to finish your travel bag. You find it nerve-wracking, for a few seconds, as you’re getting impatient… and slightly horny at the thought of tasting your boyfriend right now, right there.

“Are you okay?” you ask more curtly.

He nods, making a nonchalant grimace. You can’t believe it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Your smile widens, more brazenly. You don’t know if he’s tentatively playing with you, faking that innocence so he can get closer to you.. either way, it’s already starting, you can feel it in the air, it’s undeniable, deep and tangible.

“Because I think you got so worked up from just imagining me in those panties… do you want me to wear them for you, right now, baby?” you drop, slowly and seductively.

A sultry voice and piercing gaze that made Felix shudder and swallow nervously. Felix’s breath shortens, and his world stops for a second, and the silence speaks for itself once again. No matter how many times he makes you his, each time it impresses him and sends his feelings into overdrive as if it’s the first time he’s going to touch you; he adores you with that intensity.

“C’mon, baby, you know you can take me right now if you want. I’m always ready for you” you almost beg.

The corners of his lips quiver at your confession, trying to contain a flirtatious, nervous smile of utter glee. This time, he’s really playing with you as he says more confidently, trying to keep his sanity.

“No, love… I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine.”

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, inviting him to keep challenging you.

“Oh yeah? Then stop that and call Seungmin and Jeongin already to leave, now” you mention, more impatient, challenging him.

Felix runs his tongue along the inside of his cheeks, amused, finding it amusing the way you’ve figured him out, that you’ve won, that you know exactly his next move, it’s obvious he can’t do it, he has an uncontrollable erection caused by you. You take your garments from his hand, approaching him slowly and dangerously, finally pushing aside the bag, in effect revealing the noticeable bulge in his shorts.

You smirk nervously, watching his notorious erection and then directing your gaze until you fix it on his eyes, his nice, dark, big eyes, changing in seconds, from soft domination, to needing to be touched.

You move closer to him without standing completely, dragging your bottom across the bed until you are finally facing him, his vulnerable aroused body, his bulge in front of you, begging for your strokes and attention, causing in you the sweet throbbing of your sex, your body rushing rapidly, heart pounding, breath hitching and the sublime, dominating sight of your aroused boyfriend clouding your judgment, your judgment to keep your temper.

“Well… you’re indeed fine…” you look down at his bulge brazenly and return your submissive eyes to him, your mouth salivating loudly, “But what kind of girlfriend would I be if I don’t take care of my needy boyfriend?”

He gives you a half smile and strokes your hair with his right hand gently. You place your hands on either side of his thighs and bring your face close to his body, close enough to brush against his erection, teasing him, tensing him, raising your gaze to convey to him through your gaze all that you may be capable of right now. You maintain eye contact, your body squeezes his erection tighter, causing him to bite his lip hotly, holding in a moan… You are both being painfully patient with each other; it kills you in a way that is both ardent and pleasurable at the same time. His grip on your hair becomes more consistent, heavy, and intense. You let your chin rest on his abdomen and your hands seek to caress his thighs, finding the feel of his cell phone in his pockets. You’re so fucking turned on that anything slightly incoherent would come up in your mind.

You smile mischievously, in the way only Felix knows, in the way that brings out your deepest, hottest side that he knows as a map by heart. You pull away from him, grab his cell phone out of his pocket suddenly and wiggle it in your hand; your boyfriend looks at you in confusion. Felix knows you so well that, in his voice exquisitely thicker, and excited, than usual, he murmurs a soft,

“What’s on your mind, my pretty baby?”

He watches you from above, gently lowering his head to look at you because of your angle. You find him so fucking attractive, every faction of his face, of his agitated body trying to appear to be at ease, you suddenly needing him so badly that you could suck him off right there, suffice it to just pull down his shorts and underwear. But no, your heat was so intense that, with intense joy, your boyfriend’s new cell phone in hand, your core throbbing and your heart pounding with aggression, you said almost passionately:

“Is the quality that good?” Felix squints his eyes, inviting you to continue, still not fully understanding your idea, but extremely immersed and excited at whatever it is. “Why… don’t you put it to the test one more time…. By recording something so exclusive to you… Something to help you, Lix. Why don’t I give you something for when I’m not there for you? Who’s going to take care of you after all the euphoria you experienced on stage, huh? And you have to go back to your lonely, quiet hotel room...”

“Y/n…” he whispers, confused, breathless, almost in a soft moan, still letting himself be carried away by your words that sweetened and shivered every inch of him.

“Record me, Felix. Do it for the nights when we can’t be together.”

A sextape. The idea warms his virile, weak body wrapped in desire and love for you. Nudes… are a bit of a touchy subject, as you are somewhat paranoid, you live in fear that for some reason they might hack you, and Felix will be severely affected, you don’t even care if your nudes are exposed, it’s him you fear the most. So you’ve spent nights… long and lonely, when you’re away, living on phone sex, stimulating yourself only with his voice, remembering and imagining the feel of him, of the image of his body against yours.

Still, the idea worries Felix, that his reaction seems tender to you, because, despite being extremely horny and accepting at first without reneging, he had to make sure first, reflecting in his handsome face concern.

“A video? Princess, are you sure? Is that what you want?”

He knows how you approach a subject that the two of you have already touched on. But you nod deeply and submissively without taking your eyes off him.

“Just record me…. Lix, you don’t have to be on frame… It’s for when you get lonely and miss me.”

He sighs and seems to be slightly perplexed.

“Come on, Felix. Don’t you want to? Your body tells me otherwise...”

You begin to tease him, stroking his stiff cock over the thin fabric of his shorts. He moans, closes his eyes and nods. He needs you. Now.

“All right, princess. Let’s do this.”

Your face reflects soft victory. You leave his cell phone next to you on the bed and stand up abruptly, reaching into your purse for that little thong that caused this whole effect on both of you. Felix watches you, you are impatient, you act fast, so fast that you start undressing right in front of him. Felix blinks incredulously and in one swift movement, boldly and dirtyly grabs his phone, not wanting to miss a moment of what he is experiencing. His cock throbs hard, thinking in the future how painfully pleasurable it will be to masturbate to an obscene video of you, thinking of the dirty, exquisite fantasy that is this experience. He begins to videotape you, this time without shame, your clothes falling to the floor. Both sexes beg desperately to be touched and the silence of the room is so tense that you feel that your loud heartbeat can be heard, that was the disturbingly exciting thing about the hotel rooms you spend so much time in with Felix, the silence, the distinct sound of your heavy breathing.

Felix licks his lips, losing himself in the image of his phone capturing your body, then watching you. He sighs again, half-heartedly.

“Can I… at least talk?” he says. “If I’m not going to be fully part… if this ever comes out… can I say my voice is AI?”

You giggle. “Of course you can talk… this video is completely just for you.”

You look into the camera and then straight into your boyfriend’s eyes. Felix is disturbingly horny, impatient, but something in his expression expresses that he can resist, that he’s enjoying all of this more than anything.

You take off your blouse, the pants you were a little sick of because you couldn’t wear a skirt or a nice dress, since you were incognito. You stay in your underwear and appreciate the concentrated expression on Felix’s face.

“Baby, you’re beautiful. Let me capture absolutely everything I have to remember while I’m on tour…”

His voice is husky, needy. He directs his phone’s camera first to your face. Capturing every soft angle of your pretty face. You giggle somewhat nervously and shyly… and then, the show finally begins, Felix slowly lowers his cell phone, recording your breasts, your abdomen, your panties. He gasps again, feeling more and more excited and desperate, which as proof is the sensation of his guilty precum staining his underwear. You are everything to him.

He can’t help himself and with his free hand he begins to caress you delicately, to squeeze your waist, to caress your ass, to subtly turn you over to get the perfect shot of how very lovely and round it looks.

“I’m going to wear… the panties you want” you whisper.

Felix stops touching you, and you quickly pull off your panties, making him audibly sigh. Your breasts look better in person than the quality of his cell phone; still, on both sides, he loves them. You pull down your panties carefully, slowly, and seductively, feeling your temperature rise, you are incredibly aroused, and at this point, you regret a little bit to propose between you a game of seduction, patience, and provocation.

Your boyfriend keeps biting his lips hard, feeling the great need to gasp every time you tease him more and more. He shamelessly records your panties going down your legs, of the thin fabric slowly clearing from your vaginal lips and finally, the soft and cute shot of your mons pubis, slowly zooming out to get the great shot of your naked body, for him and him alone.

“Fuck, baby… I don’t know if I can resist anymore. Let’s do a porno at this point” Felix teases, each word lower than the other, clearly altered in desire.

You chuckle. “You’re cute.”

You continue with your thing, with the original plan to tease your boyfriend and drive him to madness, but this is proving extremely difficult for you too; you need him badly too. Still, you slowly put on yourself the tiny little garment that Felix fantasized about from the second he saw it.

He is breathless. You moan softly, the new underwear starts to tease your pussy and cling hotly to your ass. The tiny thong fits you even better than he would have imagined, the sheer fabric barely even covers your pubic area, the triangle figure is so small… it’s such a damn provocative and useless garment.

“You like it?” you question, proudly.

“I love it” he confesses with a piercing gaze into yours. “Now… lie down, darling… show me how wet you are for me. What are you going to do, my naughty little girl?”

You bite your lip. Felix’s gentle dominance drives you uncontrollably crazy. He apparently adapted quickly to the purpose of your idea. You obey him at once, lying your body comfortably on the bed. He follows your movements, crawling onto the bed next to you on his knees.

“I’m… I’m going to touch myself for you.”

You are helplessly aroused, lying back on the bed. You fondle your breasts, flex your knees and finally spread your legs, letting out a soft moan on the spot. Felix records your soft breasts, your hands playing nervously with them and moves down to your juicy lips, your labia glossy, lightly stimulated, your throbbing sex exposed.

“Fuck” Felix grunts, aggressively stroking his cock, adjusting himself a little. “Oh yeah? What do you think about when you touch yourself like that, princess?”

His rough voice turns you on even more, and his lustful gaze almost makes you tremble. Your fingers slowly slide down your skin until they reach your pussy. Felix begins to be possessed by his role: recording every single detail of your dripping pussy, every tremor of your body, he is fascinated.

You play with your clit, your middle finger tracing the thin fabric of your panties, you wiggle your pelvis and moan softly. You’re so horny, so surrendered, you’re completely his.

“Tell me, tell me, how does it feel, oh, look at you, you’re so fucking wet, all that pretty pussy for me... do your fingers feel as good as mine?” Felix continues, his phone capturing every moment of your docile, weak but energetically aroused reclining body.

You begin to tremble with pleasure, with nervousness, and it’s even difficult to speak.

“Mmmm, it feels so good... but not as good as you...” you pant, circling your clit, gently moving your legs.

“Oh yeah? Are you going to miss me, baby? How much, huh? How much are you going to miss me, sweetheart?”

You nod. Your fingers begin to slide down your folds, losing themselves in their warmth and wetness. There is something so obscene about the way your sweet boyfriend mercilessly records you, his impatience and constant licking of his lips, wanting you. His stiff member is slowly bothering him.

“A lot, Felix, a lot... I'm gonna miss you a lot...”

“Is this how you touch yourself when I’m not with you, baby? Show me how you do it, you can’t stop thinking about me?”

You shake your head. You find it funny, the way you suggested the idea, how you started teasing him, but now he’s the one pushing you to the limit. You tease yourself more, touching your weak spots that you know make you tremble, but the sensations are a thousand times better and more intense when your boyfriend does it. You tempt your entrance, arching your pelvis, wanting to insert your fingers inside you. Felix is breathing heavily, and you’re almost certain that his need can be heard even through his cell phone.

Finally, you slip your hand inside the small piece of fabric covering your pussy and while you play with your breasts, your nipples erect from the touch of your other hand, with the other you caress with painful patience the skin of your pubis, your clit, your juicy labia, all of which is killing you.

“Oh, yeah. Just like that, baby. Stick two fingers inside you... touch yourself for me, do it, imagine it’s me filling you up...”

You obey instantly and whimper, letting out a sigh as you feel your fingers slide easily into your entrance. You feel your tightness, the length of your fingers teasing you but not filling you completely the way Felix’s cock does.

You gasp, slowly thrusting to increase your rhythm, moving your hips, desperately caressing your clit with your other hand. Felix notices and speaks again, his voice so dark that he sounds like a damn villain about to destroy you, yet there is a certain playfulness in his tone:

“Look at you acting like this, so desperate, baby... you’re not being gentle with yourself at all. Is this how you want me to fuck you? Do you imagine me fucking you hard?”

Felix refrains from touching you. His hands begin to tremble, he has a voracious hunger for you that he has never felt before, his cock begins to come to life, throbbing to the rhythm of your violent thrusts with your fingers in your stimulated entrance.

“F-Felix...” you whimper, dragging out your words, biting your lip and looking him straight in the eyes the whole time.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, you gasp in desperation and... he seems to be there, sadistically enjoying the show. At this point, Felix himself is surprised at his resistance, at not cumming right there just by looking at you, but one thing is certain, his genitals are so fucking sensitive from not being stimulated at all, and he was going to take that out on you in due course... in the meantime:

“Use your words, baby, tell me anything. Remember that this video is for when I’m alone, missing you.”

“Fuck, Felix. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, please be here with me. Mmm...”

“You’re going to miss my cock, aren’t you, you little cunt? If only you could see yourself now, so needy, making a mess on the fucking hotel bed, you’re a very, very bad girl, princess.”

His accent becomes thicker and more defined, his desperation speaks for itself as he begins to sound aggressive with you, no longer soft, no more purring and sizzling teasing tone. He is being demanding with you now.

You wanted to ask him to touch you. Your fingers are quick, your caresses soft, but nothing like him, you’re so close and yet so far away. You have him there, watching you masturbate, his big bulge throbbing, his pupils dilating with fantasy. You were so needy that you even begged him in a gasp,

“Felix, please, touch me.”

He clicks his tongue, amused to see your body writhing in pleasure. He’s enjoying it to the fullest.

“No, no, no, sweetheart. I can’t be in the shot, don’t you remember? Just touch yourself for me, give your best show for when your boyfriend needs it most. Damn, you have no idea how much you turn me on, I’m going to jerk off so hard to this, baby” he groans.

“Do it, now, touch yourself,” you beg.

He smiles, showing his teeth, “You want to see my cock that badly, don’t you, hunny? You’re just a fucking little slut, you better cum on your fingers or I swear to God I’ll leave you like that. All fucking needy and horny for me. You started it, now you finish it.”

Your vision starts to blur, your pussy starts to sound obscenely wet, you bury your fingers deeper, but it’s not enough, it’s not him. It’s a real torture to have him in front of you and not be able to touch him.

“Then talk to me, talk to me more.”

He laughs. “Ha. I almost forgot how naughty you are, love. Of course, you have a thing for my voice.” He turns his phone away from you and leans dangerously close to your ear, his body hovering over yours, his soft shirt brushing against your bare chest, and whispers, his voice so seductively deep that it makes you tremble, “It turns you on, doesn’t it? Do you think you’ll cum faster if I talk dirty to you?”

You both maintain intense, penetrating eye contact. You’re so close, feeling this needy puts you in a state of mind where you want to surrender, where you want to cum; you wonder if you do... what can Felix give you, does he really plan on keeping his hard erection the whole time?

He pulls away from you.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re close, aren’t you? God, you don’t know how many times I fantasized about you touching yourself all those nights we had phone sex. Are you really this horny and slutty? Every time I tell you all the things I want to do to you... how I want to touch you and make you feel...”

Felix lets out an arrogant chuckle and gently caresses your clit. You react, sighing and tensing your body. You’re so sensitive, as if he’s pressed a button inside you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess? Tell me what you want...”

You sigh and go back to working on your pussy with soft, delicate, slow movements... suddenly you feel a little embarrassed, being so sensitive to him. You swallow, and your throat is so dry and empty.

“Felix, I need you, please. You can touch me... Did you get a good video, already? Please, come here and make me cum.”

“Do you need me that much? I’m the only one who knows how to take good care of your little pussy. But I told you I’m not going to stop until you come for me,” he orders you harshly.

He raises his eyebrows mischievously, an idea popping into his head. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you’ll have to bring yourself to orgasm on your own, so that maybe he’ll touch you afterwards and take out his burning energy on you. But you watch as Felix leans over the nightstand next to the bed, opens the drawer, and pulls out the new vibrator he bought you, compact and very useful. Felix loves to make things hotter in bed, to have you wear lingerie, to use toys, everything to give you endless, long, intense pleasure.

“You wanna cum faster, baby girl?” he shows you the vibrator. “I bet you use it imagining that it’s me making you feel good when I’m not around.”

You don’t even have time to process it or respond when he turns on the toy and presses it hard against your already stimulated clit, having the obscene take of his hand using the sex toy on your used pussy. You whimper and instinctively close your legs, but he acts quickly, grabbing your knees to prevent you from doing so.

“Ah, ah,” he warns you, “Hold the vibrator and play with your pussy, baby.”

You look him in the eyes. Your makeup is a little smudged, your gaze pleads for mercy, it’s bright, and your eyes look slightly larger. You’re suffering, you’re enjoying it, and Felix is going crazy.

You take the toy and let it vibrate violently against your clit. The vibrations are exquisite, encompassing your entire wet vulva. You moan in pleasure, feeling so close. Felix quickly and tentatively runs two of his fingers over your pussy, dipping his fingers shallowly into your entrance, a reaction that makes you whimper even louder. He is mesmerized, consumed by flames, so damn spellbound by you and his immense need to have you that he attractively brings those two fingers to his mouth, licking them deliciously, tasting you a little. He moans and enjoys it, as if you were something so delicious. That action alone increases your horniness level.

“You always taste so fucking sweet. Just like that, baby, just like that,” he coos, “You’re doing so well, my good girl.”

You’re enjoying it, despite feeling his great absence, you let yourself go, you think you can reach an intense orgasm soon, after pushing yourself to the limit and overstimulating yourself... when suddenly you let out a big sigh as you see your boyfriend pull down his shorts and underwear, Felix’s cock pops out, wriggling, fully erect, so perfectly stimulated that its tip is bright pink. He whimpers and begins to rub his hard shaft. That’s when you prolong your orgasm a little longer, because every part of you needs him.

Your gaze is lost on his cock, on the roughness of his freshly shaved pubic area, small, faintly pigmented freckles visible on his skin that you already know by heart, on the softness of the skin of his cock, that vein that drives you crazy running along its length, his medium-sized hand moving up and down on it, masturbating gently.

“Hey, eyes on me, you little slut,” he orders you, bringing you out of your trance and back to maintaining eye contact with him. “I know you want my cock, angel. Beg for it and you may get it. But now, c’mon, put the vibrator inside you... let me see you scream,” a mischievous and wicked smile appears on his tender and attractive face, which is anything but tender right now, he’s eager.

You bite your lip and obey your boyfriend’s command, almost collapsing from the sensation of the intense vibrations inside you. You want to beg for him. His phone camera zooms in depravedly on your vulnerable area, and Felix closes his eyes as his hand fills him with pleasure.

“Lix, please—”

“Now turn around,” he interrupts you and orders in an eerily harsh voice, “Let me see your pretty ass while your pussy takes the vibrator, my sweet good girl.”

It’s the little phrases and his voice that bring your orgasm forward and make you want to collapse. You obey him again, moving your body completely and lifting your ass gently for the camera and for your boyfriend. Your hand doesn’t stop holding the vibrator, and in a desperate attempt, you start pushing it in and out of your pussy.

Felix pants heavily. He has the perfect view of your round ass and juicy, stimulated pussy. At this point, you were both a mess; the thin fabric of your thong was soaked, your labia majora practically stained with your juices. Felix gives you a gentle spanking that makes you sigh.

“You take the vibrator so fucking well, princess. I want to ruin that fucking useless piece of thong you’re wearing.”

And then, you feel him, his cock teasing you, taking the string of your thong to pull it tight and rub his stimulated cock between your ass cheeks and into your ass. It’s a bit narcissistic, the way he loves how his cock looks on camera, rubbing against your ass and his balls subtly grazing your center.

You can’t resist any longer, you whimper and start begging for him.

“Please, please, Felix, fuck me.”

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he teases, rubbing against you.

But you can’t hold it anymore, you want to beg him harder, but your orgasm is close. You roll your eyes back slightly, Felix can tell you’re close to climaxing, so he pulls his cock out of you skin and lets you pant intensely, screaming his name:

“Fe-fe-felix, Lix, I-”

You collapse breathless and orgasm intensely, tensing every muscle.

He is more than happy, his ego swells, and he quickly takes the vibrator from your now weak grip. Your limbs are fragile, trembling. He turns off the toy and leaves it far from your agitated body, in a state of absolute use, wet. Felix grabs you by the waist with both hands, and you realize that the show is over. He finishes recording and puts his cell phone aside. He turns you back over, laying you down with your legs spread.

“Good girl.”

Felix has an adorable smile on his face, and as soon as you are recovering, speechless and still slightly collapsing from your orgasm, he leans down and begins to eat your pussy, savoring your climax. You moan, impressed that this is his next move. His long hair tickles your thighs. His licks are slow, his tongue thick and hot, flicking his tongue along your labia and entire vulva, he is savoring everything, gently sucking your clit. Building excitement in you quickly.

He starts using his fingers too and works on your pussy, worshiping you. He does this for a few long moments, long enough to have you panting again. He thrusts two fingers inside you and begins to penetrate you with them. You couldn’t believe it.

Felix pulls away from you, just when he feels you are needy enough again, still thrusting his fingers inside you and releasing you arrogantly, his full, shiny lips of you.

“We’re not done yet, beautiful. Not until I fill your pretty pussy with all of me.”

Finally, you watch his fingers move away from your cunt, he takes off his shirt in one swift movement and adjusts his body over you, teasing you with his wet tip between your folds, rubbing his erection over your mons pubis and under the fabric of your panties, so he can pull aside the thin thread that was stimulating your entrance and thrust his cock into you, slowly at first, then quickly and abruptly all the way in with a single thrust. You gasp loudly, clutching the sheets tightly; it was what you had been longing for.

Felix approaches you, making the act intimately dirty, it’s a mess, you’re so wet, and you both need each other so desperately that he starts to whimper as he moves inside you. Your legs seek to wrap around his body, and your hands finally touch your boyfriend. His thrusts are deep, desperate, filling you completely, moving inside you perfectly in a delicious rhythm, fucking you with impatient need. You both sigh, babbling each other’s names into the air.

“You feel so fucking good,” he pants, pounding into you. “I’m going to miss this so much,” he confesses between gasps.

You dig your nails into his back, begin to arch your back, you love this so much. You love being under his body, being nothing and everything at the same time, fading into him. Felix presses his forehead against yours and stares at you for a few seconds before taking your lips, desperately sweet, fierce, passionate, a long-lasting, wet kiss full of secrets that only the two of you know. You separate for lack of air... you are so focused on the sensation of your pussy being attended to, enjoying his body rubbing against your vulva, him filling your insides and the friction of his hard cock sliding inside you, that you are completely surprised when he pulls away a little and takes his penis out of you. The beautiful moment and the magic are over for a second.

“Turn around again, love. I’m going to fuck you hard now.”

He orders and grabs your waist desperately. He turns your body around, grabbing your ass and making you arch your back; you see him pick up his phone again and whisper, “Fuck it.”

Felix places his cell phone horizontally on a pillow, leaning back against the headboard. You notice that he is recording from the frontal camera and your face is completely visible, along with his bare chest, but his face isn’t in the frame. Your heart races. It’s terribly obscene, you love it.

“I want to remember your beautiful face while I fuck you hard.”

Felix sentences and, without further ado, slides his cock into you brutally, making you let out a muffled scream. You feel it deep inside you, throbbing, penetrating you with force. He grabs your waist tightly and starts thrusting into you intensely, sliding his cock into you, piercing and wrecking you completely. The room fills with your moans and his grunts, with both of your skins colliding intensely. You cling to the sheets again, being fucked helplessly. Felix feels you close, as close as he is.

“I want to remember your face when you come for me, please. Smile for the camera, baby.”

You look at your reflection on his cell phone screen. You’re whimpering, slightly disheveled, your makeup smudged, completely cock-drunk. You wonder if you’re disturbing your neighbor’s peace. You’re so close, your eyes almost teary, your walls squeezing Felix’s cock perfectly, enough to make him reach orgasm with intensity, making him scream. You feel his cock tremble inside you and semen fill you completely, your guilty pleasure, you love when Felix creams you. Felix continues with messy thrusts, collapsing on top of you faintly, and that’s when you climax too, your heart beating intensely, your body agitated and trembling.

“I love you, dear,” he confesses, breathless, collapsing beside you.

You look at him with a smile, feeling the absence of his warm cock inside you, but you understand that it must be too sensitive. You look at him with loving eyes, about to answer him, when you hear someone knocking on your door. It’s Seungmin.

“Heeeey, guys. Are you there? Did you fall asleep?”

Felix and you smile at each other in complicity, with heavy breathing.

taglist: @rylea08 @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne  @choso4u

note !! : hey guys, ik i havent been really active, sorry if im tagging u and somethings wrong, so pls let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist by dm or an ask, or update ur user, or if i missed your user, or literally anything plss !!, the link is right up, or again, my messages and inbox are open to anything :) luv ya

[charlesslut16]

-lucky necklace-

summary : lando always kisses you necklace for good luck ut what happens when you are not there....

PAIRINGS : lando norris x fem!readeer

WARNINGS : none

note : I hope that you will like this. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REACTIONS AND LOVE ON MY POSTS LOVE YOU!

masterlist  

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"You forgot something," you called out as Lando stepped out of the McLaren hospitality unit, race suit half-zipped, sunglasses already in place.

He froze mid-step and turned, squinting at you with a dramatic tilt of his head. “No, I didn’t.”

You just raised an eyebrow and pointed to your chest where your necklace sat, simple and familiar — a delicate chain with a small charm he’d kissed before every session since Monaco last year. 

What started as a joke had quickly turned into a ritual: pre-race, post-warm-up, every qualifying. He didn’t leave without it — or, more accurately, without kissing it while it rested on you.

Lando jogged over and stopped in front of you, grinning. “Okay, maybe I forgot something tiny.” It was his absolute favorite ritual, as it included his love and kissing.

“Tiny but powerful,” you teased. “The source of all your speed.”

“I thought my immense skill and jawline were the source of all my speed,” he said, his voice playfully indignant.

“False. It’s me. And this necklace.” You tapped the charm gently.

He leaned in, one hand cupping your waist lightly, and pressed a kiss right to the charm at your collarbone. “There. Luck secured.” 

His lips lingered just a second too long. Just enough to make your breath catch. Then he pulled back, still holding your waist with that same cocky glint in his eye. 

“See you after FP1?”

“I’ll be right here. Try not to drive into anyone.”

“No promises.”

It was a couple of weeks later, and you couldn't be at the race as your work schedule couldn't allow you to go away.

You weren’t supposed to miss Silverstone. It was your favorite track — his home race, your little tradition. Every year you brought him something silly or sweet: lucky socks, bad puns, or a tiny drawing tucked into his gear bag. 

But this year had other plans. Your work had pulled you away just before qualifying. You barely had time to kiss him goodbye, whispering, “You've got this,” and promising to watch from your workplace.

Now, sitting in your work office, missing Lando more than usual, you clutched your phone and stared at the message you’d sent. Lando would do great; you just knew it.

You: You’ve got this. Go be fast and annoying. ❤️

No reply. Not even a read receipt.

You tried not to feel disappointed. He was busy. He needed to focus. You weren’t supposed to take it personally — even if the little charm hanging around your neck felt heavier today, like it missed him too.

Meanwhile, Lando was standing in the McLaren garage, helmet in hand, staring at his reflection in the side of the car. His suit felt too tight. His chest felt too quiet.

No kiss.

No charm.

You weren’t there.

He pulled out his phone and recorded a voice memo in a quiet corner before anyone could notice. He needed to act now; if not he would not get to his full potential.

“Hey, love… I know you can’t be here, but… I’m still going to kiss the necklace anyway — imaginary style. So… mwah. There. See? Lucky again. I love you. I’ll wave to the camera if I get pole.”

He grinned, hit send, and zipped up his suit. He walked back to the car, lighter, like the kiss had really been there. It soothed him; he was ready, and he would win for you, his family, and his fans.

Then he went out and put the car on pole.

Your phone buzzed just as the Sky Sports coverage switched to post-qualifying. Lando’s face filled the screen, grinning and smug, holding P1 like it was his birthright.

You opened the voice memo with shaking hands, and his voice — warm, teasing, just a little bit breathless — made your heart swell.

“I’ll wave to the camera if I get pole.”

Seconds later, on-screen, he threw up a small peace sign as the champagne sprayed.

You wiped at your eyes and laughed.

You (replying): You’re such a sap. I love you. Also, you owe me a grid-side kiss next time I’m there. P.S. You looked disgustingly handsome on the podium.

His reply came almost instantly.

Lando 🧡: I only look good when you’re watching. 🫶 Also, that kiss? Saving it for Monza. Front row. Full crowd. No backing out.

You: Can’t wait. Now go win tomorrow. Also, nice fake kiss. 9/10. Minus points for sound effects.

Lando: 😤 Rude. I practiced that.

The next day you watched the race like it was a film. Breathless. Intense. Loud. And Lando? He was electric. Smooth through corners, aggressive with overtakes, calm on the radio. Like he wasn’t just driving the car — he was the car.

And when he crossed the line first, P1 in bold next to his name, you cheered so loud your dad nearly dropped his tea. You were so happy for him; you knew it would boost his confidence a lot.

The broadcast cut to him on the podium, soaked in champagne, suit half-unzipped, and hair a mess. He lifted the bottle high, turned to the camera, and held up two fingers.

Not a peace sign. Not a celebration.

Just two.

For two kisses.

You laughed, heart aching in the best way.

Later that night, he FaceTimed you from the hotel, eyes tired but glowing.

“Hey, world champ,” you teased.

“Hey, good luck charm,” he replied, his voice soft, full of warmth. “You watched?”

“Obviously. Twice already.”

“You liked my wave?”

“I liked your everything.”

You turned the camera slightly to show your necklace — or rather, his lucky charm — still around your neck, as always. “I missed this,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

You smiled, touching the charm where it lay against your skin. “I wore it the whole time.”

“I know,” he said. “I imagined it. Every lap.”

You tilted your head. “So I am the reason you’re fast?”

He laughed, quiet and sweet. “Nah. I’m fast because I’m a freak of nature. But you? You’re the reason it matters.”

Your throat tightened. “Lando…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m keeping that voice memo forever.”

“Good. I left out the part where I almost kissed my steering wheel.”

You gasped. “Excuse me?”

“I panicked,” he said. “Desperate times.”

“You better kiss me twice to make up for it.”

“I will,” he said. “As soon as you get to Monza.”

You smiled. “Promise?”

“Make it three,” he added, looking at you with that soft, open expression he saved just for these calls.

“Why three?”

“One for luck,” he said. “One for pole. And one for the win.”

[princesssmars]

thinking of this escape the butch vi fanart. a Lot.

nsfw. fem!reader. roleplaying + rough sex. very light degradation mixed with praise. also inspired by that dbd clip of ghostface and the survivor under him...yeah. penetrative strap-on sex (r!receiving). recorded sex.

wc : 1.954

"come on pretty girl, you said you wanted this, right? so go on and smile for the camera."

like every other story, the erotic memory of your girlfriend pounding you into your carpet actually had a rather sweet beginning.

see, you were a fan of horror movies. slashers, body horror, psychological, just name it and you've probably watched it. most of your friends found it odd, always declining when you'd invite them to catch a late night showing of a new flick.

oh but not your vi. whenever you were absolutely dying to see the hottest new horror in theaters, you knew it'd only take a phone call and playful begging for her to pull up on her motorcycle and whisk you away to the big screen.

you couldn't ask for a girlfriend who understood your passion better. but maybe this time you were...a little too passionate.

it really started when the next big slasher hit theaters, a solid hit with the at first glance simple plot of a psychotic butcher chasing down. a group of college kids who mistakenly stumbled into his shop. everywhere you went people were raving about it, gassing up the style, the characters, the gore, saying it'd be one of the next greats. so of course you wanted to be there opening weekend comfy in a reclining seat with an overpriced popcorn in one hand and a way too big soda in the other.

so of course luck would have it that you randomly fell sick that weekend, stuck in bed with a crazy fever. then the weekend after that a giant storm left you no choice but to cancel your plans, then next week your car had troubles-

safe to say, you were incredibly thankful that theaters quickly gave up on films and sent them to streaming. while you were upset you wouldn't get the full theater experience, when vi recommended an at home movie night date you couldn't pass it up.

and so there you were, snuggled in a comfy pajama set with a bowl of popcorn on your coffee table as you curled up into the side of your butch. you loved the movie, but most of all you loved the killer. a simple yet oh so intimidating design, you admired the bloodied butcher as it dropped a meat cleaver into another unlucky victim.

"jesus, those reviews weren't kidding." vi whispered under her breath, eyes wide and face bright from the colors of the screen.

you gently jabbed your elbow into her side, "aww, don't tell me your scared, baby."

"oh you wish. this movie is great, i've already got my next halloween costume down."

it was...inexplicable, the reaction you had. it was almost like your brain short circuited, rebooting until the only thing you could seen in your mind was vi, your sweet strong and incredibly built girlfriend standing above you in the same costume on screen.

okay, maybe it was explainable - it made you horny. but to be fair, you were shocked at it yourself. you'd heard of some girls thirsting over numerous masked and sinister killers in horror, but you'd never felt any such attraction.

but now your imaging vi in that way, able to see her chasing you down so clearly it makes your heart race.

and of course she noticed, because your love noticed everything about you. her eyes drifted across your face, noticing how your wide eyes were tracked on the screen like it was your job, how you licked and bit your lips and took in stuttered breaths.

and oh, did she revel in it.

she didn't bring it up again until that yearly costume party was creeping around the corner, and she tried not to laugh when you not so suavely suggested that you might as well dress up as the final girl from the movie, for consistency purposes of course.

she also had to hide her smugness seeing your reaction to her stepping out in the costume for the first time. she could see your eyes trailing over her bar arms, the fake (and edible, for reasons) blood decorating her skin and the brown leather apron that stretched across her torso. if she didn't have a plan for you that night, she would have said screw the party and taken you on the couch at the drop of her plastic meat cleaver. but of course, good things come to those who wait.

but waiting doesn't mean behaving. she acted properly during the first few hours of the party, posing for pictures with your mutual friends and taking delight in eating the themed goodies laid out. but it wasn't long until she started to tease, coming up behind you and wrapping you in her arms, biting her lip when she could subtly feel you relaxing in her arms before trying to push yourself back into her.

it got to the point where she just had to take pity on you, with only a few more touches and hidden squeezes bringing out your clinginess as you practically glued yourself to her side, arms wrapped around her bicep as you stared up at her with those eyes you just knew she couldn't resist.

as soon as you stepped into the doorway of your house she was on you, hands squared on your shoulders as she pushed you into the wall behind you, her hips pushing into yours in just the right way that you swore you'd lose your mind.

"oooh, someone's eager huh? y'know, i had a feeling you were always into roleplay, but i couldn't imagine this -"

"vi, c'mon, please. just, j-just -" you whined, half out of arousal and half out of embarrassment at being so.

"just what, huh pretty? tell me what you want and ill give it to you."

you bite your lip, eyes darting to the side as you debated on if you were really ready to go that far. but then one of her gloved hands is coming up to your face, a finger pulling your lip out of your hold. its only when you see her blue eyes zero in on a spot beneath your face that you know she left a trail of the fake blood, both of your breaths hitching in your throats.

"do you...do you still have that camcorder in your closet?"

"oh my god, oh my god, 'h my...god!"

you don't register the woman above you loud laughing at your moans, nor do you pick up on the handheld camera still recording every reaction om your face. all you can focus on is the absolutely debilitating pressure in your cunt, your girlfriend's strap down right splitting you open as she fucks you almost like she hates you. the thought sends a shiver down your spine, drawing out more mewls that are muffled by the plush of your rug when your head plops onto the ground before one of her hands is wrapping in your hair and tugging you up, not wanting to miss even a second of you.

"god damn, who knew i'd get this pretty little slut alll to myself tonight, huh?" she grunts, a yellow glove digging into the dip of your back to make you arch even more for her, to take everything she's giving you.

like you had a choice. not that you really want one, anyway.

"aww, poor baby keeps drifting out of it. maybe i should take pity on her and stop -"

her fake pouting rings in your brain and is followed by her hips slowing down, her strap starting to slip out of you before you thrust yourself back into her, letting out a moan do loud if you weren't so far gone you'd be mortified, but at the moment you cant find it in yourself to care.

"n-no! no no no no please don't stop, 'can take it, promise." you intermittently thrust your hips back as you whine, even looking back and up at her and trying your best at the puppy eyes she seems to always do so well, eager to do anything if it means she'll keep fucking you.

and when you gaze up at her looking like that, big round eyes complemented by ruined makeup, your kissed and bitten tits hanging out of your costume top right in the view of the camera, not to mention the slightest glimpse of her strap peeking out from the end of the curve of your ass, how on earth could she even think of not giving in to you?

most of the time she would drag this out, edge you until you were begging and crying for her just to brush a hand over your thigh. but maybe tonight she'll go easy on you, just because she's feeling nice.

so she sets the camcorder a the perfect angle on the table, grips both of your hips in her palms, and starts to absolutely wreck your world.

she truly cant wait for when she'll be watching this footage back over with you later, how you'll groan and push at her out of embarrassment when you witness just how desperate you are in this moment, meeting each one of her thrusts with a vigor she hasn't yet seen and moaning so loudly she's sure you'll be receiving a message from your landlord in the morning.

and she knows in the future you'll be pestering her too, because just in the crack of the constant plaplaplap! of your hips and the gorgeous ass noises slipping from between your lips she can hear herself, too, strained little grunts and cut off growls of "so perfect, so damn perfect for me," and "takin it so well, god, knew you wouldn't run from this-"

her hand yet again comes up to you, only this time wrapping around your neck to arch you even further back for her to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, cold fake blood smearing over your mouths. it's only when you blink up at her and see her smiling while licking the blood off of her lips that you cum, sight going white as you clamp down so hard on to her strap she struggles to keep fucking you through it as she carries both of you through your shared moments of bliss.

its a sweet silence as you both come down from your highs, your body relaxing into the carpet before she gently slips the toy from inside you and off of her hips, quickly turns off the camcorder and maneuvers you both on to the couch, pulling a blanket over you as you settle into the softness of her chest.

vi is the first to break the silence, pressing a plethora of sweet kisses to your head, "so, how did you like it?"

"ugh, don't make me answer, you already know." you groan, digging your head into her shoulder in a pitiful attempt to escape her teasing.

"cmonnn, wont make fun of you, i promise. i wouldn't mind doing this again, y'know."

"...seriously?"

"hell yeah, that was...a lot more fun than i expected. maybe next time i could...i dont know, chas you through the woods or something. just an idea."

of course you notice just how quickly she came up with the idea, and of course she notices how your breath hitches the same way hers does.

[ilovolderman]

Operation Mugshot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to set a trap to catch your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, drones and oranges

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson had a plan.

He’d spent the better part of two weeks compiling evidence, cross-referencing time logs, analyzing coffee consumption patterns, and creating a red-string bulletin board that would’ve made any conspiracy theorist proud.

Today, all that paranoia was finally going to pay off.

He sipped his decaf—yes, decaf, because he needed to stay sharp—and watched the living room like a hawk disguised as a houseplant. Or maybe the other way around.

The trap was simple.

Step 1: Hide in the pantry with snacks, a thermal imaging tablet, and a drone disguised as a spice rack. Step 2: Wait. Step 3: Catch you two being adorably romantic in high-definition.

Easy.

Sam sipped his decaf, checked his drone feed, and muttered into his earpiece—connected to absolutely no one. “Wilson to base. Operation Mugshot is live. Targets are expected in T-minus one minute.”

Five minutes in, Sam was regretting the plan.

Ten minutes in, he was beginning to lose feeling in one leg.

Fifteen minutes in, the door creaked open.

He tensed. It was happening. Showtime.

But it wasn’t Bucky.

It wasn’t even you.

It was a Roomba. Rolling casually into the kitchen, bumping into a cabinet, and then zooming away like it had places to be.

Sam exhaled, annoyed. “False alarm.”

Twenty minutes in, the door opened again. Finally.

A creak. Footsteps.

Bingo.

You shuffled in wrapped in a burrito blanket, yawning with your whole body. Your socks were mismatched. You still had a pillow crease on your face. You looked, in Sam’s words, “suspiciously domestic.”

A beat later, Bucky wandered in.

Barefoot. Wearing a t-shirt that just so happened to look a lot like one you “lost” last week. He blinked at the pantry.

Bucky tilted his head ever so slightly toward the pantry. The door was open a fraction too wide. There was a faint hum—Sam’s drone, probably watching like a nosy Roomba.

He mouthed, Trap.

You mouthed back, I know.

So, naturally, you played it cool.

“Morning,” you said casually, reaching for a mug. “Nice weather for emotional espionage.”

“Sure is,” Bucky replied, pouring himself coffee like a man who hadn’t just spotted a super-spy hiding behind the cereal boxes.

You both stood in suspicious silence for a moment.

Then Bucky dropped the act, leaned over, and whispered, “We should absolutely mess with him.”

You grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

Cut to ten minutes later: you and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couch, the most awkward six feet of exaggerated distance between you. No eye contact. Arms folded. The tension so forced it might as well have been acting school improv.

Sam, crouched in the pantry, stared at the screen. His drone hovered silently, recording the scene.

“Huh,” he mumbled. “No touching. No shared glances. No whispering. That’s… not what I expected.”

The footage was useless. You both looked like coworkers waiting for a Zoom call to start.

Then—movement.

Sam tensed.

You got up. Walked toward Bucky. Bucky looked up.

Sam’s heart nearly exploded with victory.

You said, “Do you have… the thing?”

“The thing?” Bucky echoed.

“The thing for… that work thing?”

“Ah,” Bucky said, “the… report?”

“Yes,” you said stiffly. “That report.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. They were talking code. He scrambled to write it down. THE REPORT = PROBABLY CODE FOR SECRET RELATIONSHIP.

Sam was vibrating.

“They’re debriefing,” he whispered. “This is it. This is the heart of the operation.”

Then he shifted too hard and knocked over a box of granola bars.

The pantry door creaked.

The drone wobbled and dropped like a bug with stage fright.

You stood calmly and opened the door.

There was Sam Wilson. Looking like a kid caught stealing cookies—except the cookies were a pile of tech gadgets, caffeine charts, and about four different colored highlighters.

You blinked. “You okay in there?”

He looked down at his tablet. “I was… conducting surveillance.”

“For breakfast?”

“DON’T PLAY DUMB,” Sam snapped, pointing dramatically.

Bucky offered a hand to help him up. “Are you good, man?”

Sam slapped it away. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. I just got ambushed by—by deception and romantic subterfuge.” He gestured wildly.

“Coincidence,” Bucky said, way too smoothly.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You will slip up one day. You think I didn’t notice how you both hum ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ while making toast?”

“That was once,” you said defensively.

“ON THREE DIFFERENT OCCASIONS.”

“Okay, twice.”

“Also,” Sam added, “you share coffee stirrers.”

Bucky blinked. “We don’t even use stirrers.”

“You do!” Sam yelled, unhinged. “YOU DO. I HAVE SCREENSHOTS.”

There was a beat of silence.

You turned to Bucky. “We should be concerned, right?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “Very.”

Sam’s drone bumped into the wall and fell with a soft whirr.

“…Friday,” Sam said, defeated, “run the footage back. Look for emotional cues.”

Then Friday chimed in: “Sir, your footage today is 97% couch silence and 3% you chewing a granola bar while whispering ‘enhance’ at a static screen.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

“I’ve failed,” he said.

You walked over and gently patted his shoulder. “You tried.”

“I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” Bucky said, smiling softly.

Sam pointed at him. “I will find the truth. Someday. I’ll be ready.”

“Sure you will,” you said sweetly.

Sam stormed out. Then stormed back in. Grabbed his granola bar. Then stormed out again.  He grumbled under his breath “This isn’t over. I’ll crack the case eventually.”

FRIDAY chimed softly from above. “Sir, your blood pressure is once again elevated.”

Sam glared at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, remind me to install lie detectors in every room.”

“Noted.”

Once Sam had disappeared, you leaned into Bucky’s side, chuckling softly.

“That was beautiful,” you said, still snickering. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Bucky grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Nah. He’s probably already planning his next move. But at least we know one thing for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He kissed your forehead again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re definitely not getting caught.”

And as long as Sam kept chasing wild theories, you knew the two of you had the perfect cover.

For now.

From the hallway, Sam peeked back in, only to see you both on opposite ends of the couch again, scrolling your phones.

He narrowed his eyes.

“…One day,” he muttered. “One. Day.”

Later that morning you sat on the blanket Bucky laid out—curled up in one of his hoodies that was at least two sizes too big, sleeves draping over your hands like paws, the collar loose enough that it slipped off your shoulder every time you shifted.

The rooftop garden was quiet except for the lazy hum of bees somewhere off near the lavender.

Above, cottony clouds drifted across a soft blue sky like they were in no rush to be anywhere else.

Bucky sat beside you, legs stretched out, peeling an orange with the slow, careful ease of someone with nowhere else to be. He offered you the first slice with a crooked little smile—the kind he only ever gave you. The kind that made your heart skip like a stone across still water.

You took the orange slice, your fingers brushing his. His fingers lingered.

Another slice. For you.

One for him.

One he tucked into the front pocket of your hoodie with exaggerated seriousness, like it was official mission protocol.

“For later,” he said, his voice low, amused.

You chuckled, letting your head fall lightly against his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like him—cedar, warmth, a little like whatever laundry detergent he pretended not to care about but always remembered to buy.

He leaned into your weight, resting his cheek against your hair, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply were—content, warm, quiet.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

Bucky hummed. “Even if Sam installs spy pigeons next?”

“He already tried. They were drones.”

He tilted his head just enough to give you a look. “You’re kidding.”

“Swear. I caught one trying to blend in with the doves last week.”

“…Did it coo?”

“Worse. It beeped.”

You both burst out laughing, your voice muffled against his arm. Bucky’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and you could feel it under your cheek like a heartbeat made of joy.

“You know he’s never going to stop,” you said, lifting your gaze slightly to meet his eyes.

“I hope he never does,” Bucky said, soft and sure. “Gives us an excuse to keep playing these little games.”

You smiled, fingertips absently tugging at the cuff of his sleeve.

“I like our games.”

“I like you.”

He said it like a secret. Like something holy. Like the sun had come out just to eavesdrop on the moment.

Then he tilted his head and kissed you, slow and soft, a kiss that tasted like orange and quiet and safety. The kind of kiss that wasn’t asking for anything, just giving everything.

You smiled against his lips. He kissed that smile, too.

Then, a soft whirrrr in the distance.

You both looked up.

A drone hovered nearby, clearly struggling against the wind.

Bucky leaned close, whispered in your ear, “Five bucks says he crashes it into the tomatoes again.”

You grinned. “You’re on.”

Moments later, the drone dipped, wobbled—

Thunk.

Right into the tomato trellis.

Bucky held out his hand. “Pay up.”

You laughed and kissed his lips.

 “Acceptable payment,” he said solemnly.

Meanwhile in somewhere in the compound Sam was scribbling in his notebook again.

CASE #111: They ARE Dating.

Surveillance Compromised Drone Casualties: 1 (Tomato-related incident) Emotional Evidence: Off the charts Investigator Notes: “They’re definitely dating. I feel it in my spleen. But also… maybe they deserve to be happy. Maybe… I’m the problem.” Status: Unofficially Admitted, Still Officially Denied

And then, in desperate, scrawled print:

“WHY IS IT SO HARD TO CATCH PEOPLE BEING IN LOVE?!”

Underlined three times.

“They’re too innocent. It’s a setup. It’s reverse psychology. They want me to think they’re not dating so I give up—BUT I WON’T.” he muttered

Then, he paused.

Stared into the middle distance.

“…Wait. What if I’m the one being surveilled?”

Friday, ever patient, replied from the speakers: “Sir, please go outside.”

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: BOSTON'S ENGAGEMENT PROPOSAL * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where, at the Boston show of the Surprise Party Tour, Matt finally reveals his first solo surprise of the tour: proposing to Y/N.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Matt felt like a complete idiot.

Which was honestly fine.

Normal, even.

Because what else are you supposed to feel when you walk into Tiffany & Co alone, camera in one hand, jacket half-zipped, and the literal knowledge in your brain that today’s the day you buy your engagement ring?

The second the glass doors swished shut behind him, he instantly felt underdressed. The place was too clean. Too bright. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet where even your footsteps sound loud, and you’re 90% sure the floor costs more than your car.

"Okay." He muttered, clicking on the small camera in his hand, flipping the screen so he could see himself, waving with his free hand. His messy strands were doing their own thing, and his voice cracked a little. "Hi, uh, so I guess this is happening."

The Tiffany logo glimmered in the reflection behind him, all silver and serious. He turned the lens toward the inside of the store, slowly panning across the display cases that sparkled so hard it hurt to look at them.

Everything was white and silver and pale blue. Velvet chairs. Smooth marble counters. Employees moving around like they were floating, all super polished and weirdly calm, which was the opposite of how he felt.

He found a small table in the center of the room with a modern glass vase on it and propped his camera there using the tiny tripod suction he’d brought.

"I sent an entire email explaining this to the brand and asking for permission to record it. They gave me it. I even brought it printed." He laughed breathlessly, angling the lens to frame the table and the chairs across from it.

Matt sat down and let out a quiet breath, tapping his fingers anxiously on the edge of the table.

He didn’t really know what he was expecting walking in here. Like maybe it would hit him differently, feel more real. But all he felt was this warm weight in his chest and the nonstop loop in his head.

Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up.

A woman appeared after a few moments, dressed in sleek black with a small Tiffany-blue badge on her chest. Her heels clicked quietly as she walked toward him, her smile calm and super professional but not cold.

"Hi there. Matthew, right?" She said warmly.

"Yeah, hey." He stood up awkwardly, then realized she didn’t expect that and just kind of hovered in a weird half-stand before sitting back down.

She smiled kindly.

"I’m Elena. Thank you for coming in today. I've been informed of your plans."

He nodded.

"That's great! Thank you."

Elena let out a soft laugh at how stiff he looked and pulled up a chair across from him.

"Don’t worry. You’re definitely not the first person to come in here with that look on your face. You’re shopping for an engagement ring, yes?"

The words still made his brain stutter. But he nodded.

"Okay, then let's start." She said, already opening a small black folder in front of her.

Matt sat back and rubbed his beard covered jaw. The room felt big. And small. And too real.

"Alright." Elena said, flipping open a tray of sample bands, all lined in rows with tiny cards that probably had words like platinum and cushion cut on them. "Let’s talk about her. What does she like?"

Matt blinked at the rings for a second, overwhelmed by sparkle. Then he focused.

"She actually wears a lot of jewelry." He started, voice calmer now that they were actually talking logistics. "She wears gold more than silver, but like both. And she hates anything super chunky or loud. She's more into the delicate, kinda simple stuff. Like she has these tiny gold hoops she wears almost every day and these little rings that look like... minimalist or whatever."

Elena nodded, already pulling a few bands from the tray and setting them aside.

"This gives us a lot to play with, actually."

"Good." Matt said, nodding. "She also... okay, I don’t know if this helps, but she likes stuff that’s classic but not boring, y’know? She’s not trendy. That sounds kinda corny, but..."

"No, that’s perfect." Elena said, already unlocking another small drawer in the case nearby.

Matt glanced down at all the million options, fingers drumming a quiet beat against the edge as his brain tried to concentrate.

Fuck, he wished his brothers were there.

Chris would’ve made him laugh to calm him down while Nick would’ve asked twenty questions about resale value and the clarity of the stone or whatever.

It was weird doing something this big without them next to him. Like losing your phone and realizing how much you depended on it. He was so used to them being right there in every step.

But not this time.

This was just him.

"Here." Elena said gently, breaking the spiral as she placed a new tray in front of him. "I think we’re getting close."

Matt leaned in, eyes scanning the rings. One stood out immediately.

It was delicate, so thin he almost missed the band entirely. A single oval-cut diamond sat in the middle with six claws holding it in place, no extra flash, no weird shapes, just clean and clear and... her.

He pointed to it, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"That one’s really nice."

Elena smiled like she’d been waiting for him to say that.

"That’s one of our most classic solitaire styles. Platinum band. Oval diamond."

He tilted his head.

"Yeah... she’d actually wear that. Like she’d live in that."

"Exactly." Elena said. "You want something she’ll love now and thirty years from now."

They added a curved matching band that hugged the engagement ring perfectly. It looked like the two rings were designed to never be apart.

Matt stared at them for a second too long.

"Can I- uh... get a second to record this?" He asked, already reaching for his camera and bringing it closer.

He lifted the box gently, showing the rings to the lens and whispering.

"This is the one. I hope you love it."

The big screen flicked for a millisecond before showing the banner with 'SURPRISE' written in big white letters.

The noise was immediate, and it only seemed to increase when the countdown appeared seconds after, huge and bold across the giant screen. The numbers started ticking down from 5, all in that signature grainy style.

The theater echoed with voices. People clutched their phones tighter. Someone behind Y/N whispered a breathless "Oh my god, it has to be Matt", but she didn’t even register it at first, her eyes glued to the screen.

And then, there he was.

Matt.

Standing in front of a camera, looking directly into it while adjusting his tie.

The crowd lost it.

They weren’t even at fault for their reaction. Six shows had passed through, and Matt wasn't the one bringing a solo surprise in none of them.

Matt smiled at the screams. He stood up from the orange couch on the left, where he’d been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Chris, and grabbed his mic.

The crowd didn’t calm down. If anything, they screamed harder, but there was something about his nervous little laugh that softened everything around it.

He walked to the side of the stage, shoes scuffing the dark wood, and turned toward one of the wooden shelves that were part of the set.

"Okay, okay." Matt said into the mic, voice shaking slightly but still him. "I’m gonna need you guys to chill a little, like, just enough for me to hear myself, alright?"

The crowd laughed but actually obeyed. Kind of.

"I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time." He admitted, glancing out at the audience like they were all his best friends and not strangers in a dark room. "And I’ve honestly never been this nervous before."

He paused.

Looked down.

And without needing to search, his eyes dropped straight to the middle seat in the front row.

Y/N.

There she was, sitting all cute and clueless, smiling so big it almost hurt him. She had that gentle sparkle in her eyes that only came out when she was happy in quiet ways.

She had no idea. Not even close. And God, she was going to freak out.

Matt felt his heart full-on trip over itself.

She was wearing the red and black Ralph Lauren jacket he had used on Philadelphia, and her hands were folded over her legs. She was watching him like she was proud just to see him standing there. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And that made it worse.

And better.

And way harder not to cry.

Chris and Nick were now on the left couch, explaining the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint Matt was going to show to the public.

"Matt." Chris called, adjusting his mic. "We’re gonna be here all night if you don’t open that damn shelf."

The crowd cracked up.

Matt rolled his eyes dramatically to the audience, grinning as he turned back toward the cabinet door.

"Okay." He said, laughing through his nose. He reached out, fingers gripping the cool handle. "Let’s see what the hint is."

He pulled it open.

A ring.

Not the ring.

Just a ring.

It was chunky and bold and totally not bridal. Something from Paula, their stylist. Gold with a flat top, engraved with something random that didn’t matter.

Matt grabbed it and shut the cabinet again, turning around. He made his way back to the couch, but instead of sitting down, he stood in front of his brothers and held up the ring for them to see.

Nick leaned forward.

"What is that? A mafia ring?"

Chris squinted.

"Wait, wait- is your surprise a jewelry line? Are you releasing jewelry for Yesterday's Problem now?"

The mention of Matt's mystery brand made a crazy effect over the crowd, who screamed and begged for it to be about Yesterday's Problem.

Matt raised his eyebrows at the youngest.

"No, of course not." He pressed his lips together in a smug kind of way, then looked over his shoulder to the crowd. "Y’all are so off." He laughed under his breath.

Nick sat back with his arms crossed.

"This is too vague."

Matt ignored him. He tucked the fake ring in his jacket right pocket, feeling it clinking against the hidden velvet box, and finally walked over to the opposite couch.

He sat down slowly, smoothing his jeans and adjusting his mic. And for the first time, he looked up, not at the crowd, not at his brothers, but to the grandstand section near the side stage.

He found them instantly.

His parents. Nate. Mikayla. Sam.

All there. All watching.

Their expressions were... hard to read. Focused. Neutral, but expectant. His mom had her hands clasped near her chin, her brows slightly knit. His dad was still.

Matt swallowed. Looked back to the screen.

"Well, let's see what I did."

And then the video started.

It didn’t come with any fanfare or intro, which already made it so different from the slow builds Chris and Nick did for theirs.

"Okay."

Video-Matt’s voice crackled through the speakers, low and kind of nervous. On screen, the camera shook slightly as he clicked on it and flipped the screen to face him. He waved awkwardly with his free hand, his expression caught between a smile and full-on panic.

"Hi, uh, so I guess this is happening."

A wave of laughter rippled across the theater at how awkwardly he opened the video.

On stage, Chris squinted at the screen, tilting his head.

"Wait, where even is he?"

Matt hadn’t said it, but the massive, gleaming Tiffany & Co. logo was reflected behind him in the video - polished silver letters on a blue-tinted wall.

The moment the logo came into focus, Nick let out a confused noise beside Chris, practically leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Is that-"

"Bro, is he in Tiffany’s?" Chris finished, brows furrowed.

Even Y/N blinked in quiet surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she watched Matt on the screen set the camera down on a sleek little table inside the boutique. She’d never seen him even mention Tiffany jewelry. Vivienne Westwood was his thing, silver chains, edgy rings.

But she still smiled wide because he looked nervous as hell.

Matt, onscreen, muttered something about having emailed the brand beforehand to ask for permission to film, even flashing a crumpled printout of the email at the camera.

"I even brought it printed." He chuckled under his breath, clearly trying not to combust from stress as he fixed the frame.

Back on stage, Chris snorted.

"Why does he look like he’s about to commit a crime?"

Nick leaned toward the mic.

"Your surprise is that you stole some expensive jewelry, Matt?"

The crowd laughed again, some people clapping, some just wheezing into their hands.

Y/N was frowning now, eyes glued to the screen. Matt hadn’t looked that nervous since- well, since he asked her to move in with him from Boston to LA years ago.

On screen, Matt sat down at the table, his fingers tapping a beat on the edge like he couldn’t stop moving.

Moments later, a woman walked into frame - sleek black outfit, small Tiffany-blue name tag pinned to her chest.

"Hi there. Matthew, right?" She asked with a kind smile.

Matt stood up too fast and then kind of froze mid-stand like he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. He hovered awkwardly for a moment before sitting back down with a stiff, nervous nod.

Y/N laughed quietly, leaning forward in her seat.

"Oh, baby..." She mumbled, her heart just full.

"I’m Elena." The woman said, settling into the chair across from him. "Thanks for coming in today. I’ve been informed of your plans."

On the couch, Nick let out a quiet, "What plans?"

Chris nudged him but was just as confused.

"That’s great! Thank you." Matt said in the video, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Elena smiled, clearly used to this kind of energy.

"Don’t worry. You’re definitely not the first person to come in here with that look on your face. You’re shopping for an engagement ring, yes?"

The theater went silent.

Chris blinked.

Nick sat all the way back into the couch like the air had been punched out of him.

The crowd gasped.

And Y/N... Y/N froze entirely.

Her jaw went slack. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, twitched.

Did she hear that right?

Chris was the first to react.

"Wait- WHAT?" He half-shouted into his mic.

Nick was still staring at the screen, eyebrows drawn so hard together that they were practically touching.

"She just said- she said engagement- he- what?"

The audience exploded in a mix of laughter, shocked screams, and collective gasping.

Y/N covered her mouth, eyes glued to the screen, heart pounding in her chest so loud it drowned everything else out.

She didn’t blink.

She didn’t breathe.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the boy on the screen, the boy she’d loved quietly, gently, patiently, for what felt like forever, who was sitting inside Tiffany & Co., looking like he was going to throw up from nerves, and apparently about to buy a ring.

For her.

Matt had been planning this.

He had planned this entire thing.

"Oh my god." She whispered behind her hand, her voice shaking with shock and joy and every emotion crashing together in her chest.

Chris turned slowly to look at her from the stage, his mouth slightly open like he was seeing the twist in a movie.

"You knew about this?" He asked, pointing to the screen.

Y/N shook her head so fast it almost made her dizzy.

"How could I know this, Chris?!" She squeaked, the words barely coming out.

Nick blinked rapidly, rubbing his forehead.

"Chris, a wedding propose is supposed to be a secret to the one being proposed."

But Chris still hadn’t recovered.

"A ring, dude. Like... for real. We’re on stage, and he’s proposing?"

Y/N sat back slowly, staring up at the screen like it was made of stars. Her lips trembled, not from sadness or fear or anything close to hesitation, but just from the way her entire soul felt like it was floating.

This wasn’t just a surprise.

This was Matt.

Her Matt.

And somehow, he’d managed to turn an ordinary night into the most extraordinary moment of her life.

The video continued playing, but no one really moved.

The entire theater was still.

Hearts pounding.

Eyes wide.

Waiting for the big moment.

The last frame of the surprise video froze on the big screen, the tiny velvet box open in Matt’s hand, his voice low and trembling, whispering like a private secret.

"This is the one. I hope you love it."

And then... nothing. The screen went black.

For a second - two, maybe three - the entire venue was suspended in absolute silence. No screams, no gasps, no whispers. Just air. Thick and vibrating with a kind of collective disbelief that made everything feel just a little unreal, like the world had glitched and was still buffering.

Then someone - probably a fan in the front row - gasped out loud.

And the silence cracked.

A mix of choked sobs, happy cries, shocked laughter, and chaotic squeals broke like a wave through the audience.

Mary Lou covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide and glossy. Mikayla had literal tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching the side of Nate's hoodie. Even the tour crew was caught off guard, one of the lighting guys had his jaw dropped like he was about to cry.

Nick blinked rapidly and turned toward Chris, totally stunned.

And then there was Y/N.

She was still seated, her mouth parted just slightly, her eyes wide and blinking slow, like she was trying to make sense of gravity again. Her entire body felt... floaty. Like she wasn’t quite in the room anymore. Like she was watching someone else live her life and was just now realizing that someone else was... her.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her hands felt cold and sweaty at the same time. She couldn’t move. She didn’t even breathe.

And then Matt stood up.

Still on stage, in front of the giant screen, with tears in his eyes and his heart practically written all over his face.

He looked at her.

Just her.

And the noise around them blurred into something distant and unimportant. He brought the mic up to his lips, eyes momentarily running from hers.

"Can- uh, can one of you help her up here?" He asked, nodding toward the security guard on the right side of the stage, voice trembling through the speakers.

The crowd seemed to become louder.

Screams. Cries. People clapping and jumping. Y/N could barely process the guard gently approaching her, a soft smile on his face, as he reached out a hand.

She blinked at him.

Then blinked again.

"Come on, sweetheart." Matt said into the mic, his voice cracking. His smile was soft and a little wobbly. "It’s okay."

That’s when her legs finally moved. Barely. But they moved.

The crowd cheered louder as she slowly stood up, holding her shaky hands to her chest, fingers scratching against the glitter of her shirt - the same one that Nick was using.

She followed the security guard to the edge of the stage, the warm lights making everything feel more surreal, more floaty. Like a fever dream she didn’t want to wake up from.

And then, she was there.

Up on stage.

Everything around her was blurry except for him.

Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt.

Standing there, eyes glassy, hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them. He looked like he was holding back a loud cry.

"Come here, angel." He said again, softer this time. Just for her.

She walked toward him slowly. Feet barely touching the stage, everything trembling. The lights, the crowd, the sound, it all disappeared as she reached him and stopped a foot away.

His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. But when he looked at her, it was solid. Sure. Like there was nothing else he believed in more than her.

"Okay." Matt started, laughing nervously and brushing his fingers under his eye. "Uhm... wow. Okay. So... I had this whole thing in my head. Like, how I was gonna say it. But now I’m just... losing it."

She let out a teary laugh. So did the crowd.

Matt looked down for a second, then back up, voice steadier this time.

"I love you." He said first, like he had to just get that out before anything else. "I love you so much."

Y/N let out a shaky breath. Her hands came up to her mouth, eyes already overflowing.

"You’ve been with me through everything. Everything, Y/N. When I was nobody. When we were filming in our parents' kitchen and only getting a hundred views. When I had zero dollars to my name. When I moved to LA with my brothers and literally lived on hope. You were there."

He sniffled.

"You’ve always been there."

Her whole body was trembling now. She could barely stand straight.

Matt stepped a little closer, reaching out with one shaky hand to hold hers, gripping tight like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I’m not good with words. You know that." He said, voice wobbling but warm. "But you- you’re everything to me. You’re the reason I’m even here. Not just like, here here." He gestured around at the stage. "But like- here."

Her lips quivered as she sobbed softly, squeezing his hand.

"I wake up every day, and I can’t believe I get to love you. That you love me back. That I get to see you reading on the couch or ranting about your series or dancing while you brush your teeth. You’re the best part of my day, every day." Another laugh cracked in his throat, wet and breathless. "I brought your perfume with me to Vegas so my shirts smelled like you. That’s where I’m at. That’s how far gone I am."

Y/N let out a choked laugh through her tears, wiping at her eyes, her fingertips coming out black with mascara. Matt laughed too, even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

And then he reached into the right pocket of his jacket.

The room seemed to still again.

He pulled out the small velvet box. Hands trembling.

She bit her lip. A hand flew to her chest.

And then Matt was getting down.

On one knee.

His knee hit the stage softly. He opened the box again, showing two beautiful rings sparkling under the lights, and tried to hold it up while still holding the mic. But his hands were too full.

Chris was already moving before Matt could even think of asking for help. He ran up to them, gently taking Matt’s mic right out of his hand, and held it up close to Matt’s mouth for him.

Matt looked up at his brother, breathless and laughing softly through the emotion.

"Thanks." He whispered, voice cracking.

Chris just smiled his widest smile, his eyes shining with tears, and nodded.

Matt turned back to Y/N, holding up the box in his shaking hands.

"Y/N." He said. "Please, allow me to spend the rest of my life by your side. Will you marry me?"

And it was like the world held its breath.

All she could do was nod at first, crying and covering her face. Then she laughed through her tears and choked out.

"Yes. Yes. Oh my god- yes!"

The crowd exploded. Screams. Cries. Phones held high. Some people literally jumped. Nick tackled Chris in a hug. Their mom sobbed against Jimmy.

Matt stood up and pulled her into his arms so fast the empty box slipped, and they both stumbled a bit, laughing and crying and shaking.

And when he kissed her, right there in front of everyone, it wasn’t polished or pretty. It was messy. And emotional. And real.

"I love you so much." He whispered in her ear.

And she whispered back.

"I can’t believe you’re mine."

They stood there for a long time, just holding each other.

Two people on a stage. In front of thousands.

"The 'getting down on one knee' thing was successfully approved, Matt." Nick's voice echoed around the room from the speakers before two more bodies collapsed around them, holding them close.

They were the only ones in the world.

© vanteguccir

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twenty

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse reader, feelings of fear and panic, PTSD, references to domestic violence. Trauma, blood. Flashbacks. Dubious ethics and morality, dark content.

“Are ye comin’ inside?”

“I need a minute.” He needs more than a minute. He needs days, weeks. Needs to wind back the clock and slam it into the ground, over and over again, until the springs and hands and tiny numbers splinter into pieces.

Failure. He failed. They failed.

They failed you.

“Wait, go back.” The video pauses and rolls backward, all the way until Simon tells Kate to stop it when you step out of the elevator. “What’s in her hand?” 

“Dinnae,” Johnny’s nose is practically touching the screen. 

“The recording is pretty low quality; I’ve tried enhancing it with no luck.” Kate’s voice crackles through the speakers from the other side of the laptop, the other side of the world. This is the first time they’ve managed to get a hold of her in weeks, and even now, the connection is half static. 

“Looks like a piece of paper, or a picture?” Johnny murmurs, leaning back. 

“This is just before she bolts,” the playback continues, and they watch as you walk down the hall, bright smile fading when you reach the corner. “She’s here for a minute and then runs…” Simon is glued to the screen, forward on his haunches, and Johnny rubs his back, kneading his knuckles into that ever-present knot in his shoulder. He watches your head turn, your back stiffen, and Johnny sucks in a breath. 

Kate nods the confirmation. She’s already put the puzzle together. 

Graves.

You’re reacting to Graves, seeing Graves. Entire demeanor shifting, changing from their sweet, smart girl with newfound confidence, to a deer, shocked and startled, running from a scope. 

Graves.

It’s simple math. Plain as day. You take one look at where he’s come around the corner, running his mouth, chewing that fucking gum, and split. 

It’s Graves. 

And it all makes sense. 

“-you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.”

“He always finds me.” 

“He has resources. Has followed me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I’m originally from Texas.” 

Texas. Texas. Texas. 

There was a conversation, months ago, that slipped through Simon’s fingers. A wisp of a suspicion, one pushed away by doubt, by disbelief.  

Not possible. A coincidence. 

He was wrong, about being wrong. He was right, all along.

Johnny nearly flips the table before Simon urges him back down. “Where… where does she go after this?” 

“She gets the car,” Simon answers, timeline clicking into place, “she borrows that gits car, comes home, packs a bag, and runs.” Johnny’s hands are shaking, fingers white against his knees. 

They’ll kill him. He’ll paint the walls with Phillip’s blood. They’ll do what should have done in the first place. 

He should have protected you, should have seen it all clearly. Should have applied more pressure and made you crack, if only for your own safety. 

He failed. 

They failed. 

“That piece o’ shite, I’ll-“ 

“Kill him.” Simon finishes simply, and they exchange a look. A promise without words. Simon will shatter his skull between his palms if he has to. 

Johnny nods. The gears are already turning. Are they so different from a man who has stopped at nothing to drag you back to him? 

No. 

They'd burn the world for you, to protect you, to bring you home to them. 

Kate clears her throat. “There’s more.” More? “I was checking some records, looking at her last clock out, when the last paycheck was paid out and I pulled her personal information, her medical chart.” Kate’s tone is wary, hesitant, and Johnny straightens. 

“What is it?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, unsure trepidation that’s so unlike Kate the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stands up. 

“Kate…” 

“She’s pregnant.” You could hear a pin drop. Johnny’s rage turns to panic, and an ocean of blood rushes in Simon’s ears. 

“She’s- she’s what?” 

“She’s pregnant. By now, she’s probably twenty weeks, maybe? I’m not sure. I don’t know much about those things, but her chart notes say both of them are… were in good health. Low risk.” 

“Twenty weeks,” Johnny echoes, faraway look in his eyes. 

A baby. You’re pregnant. 

Pregnant. Pregnant and alone, and scared. Running away.  

From them. 

Simon’s trying to wrap his head around it, but he can’t. The information doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make sense. 

“If she’s twenty weeks, then she’s been pregnant since before she left.” Johnny’s talking to himself at this point, because Simon can’t force his mouth to make words. “Why keep it a secret?” Kate is telling them something about index hits and cameras, but it all amounts to nothing after you board the train, and Simon still fails to make a sound. 

And then, she piles it on. 

“Graves is in the wind.” Simon’s heart stops like he’s been struck by lightning, electricity jolting him alive. 

“How?” 

“He went offline. No traceable activity in the last week or so. Last known location was Texas. After that, I’m not sure. Yet.”

‘He can’t be in the wind,” Johnny whisper shouts, all too aware of Penny upstairs, napping. “We need to know where he is. Now.” 

“I’m doing all I can. He has resources too, you know. A lot of them.” The screen goes black for a second, before she reappears, lips pressed into a grim line. “I have to go. I’ll keep you updated. Sorry guys.”

They can only nod. 

It’s clear as day, what happened now. How you saw them in the hallway, how you drew the conclusion, one that seemed so painfully obvious, connected the dots that appeared in your mind, stringing together bits and pieces until it all made sense.

He knows what will have to happen now. They both do. 

Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s. “We’ll find her.” 

“An’ bring her home.” 

“No matter what.” 

The rest is left unsaid. 

You’re having a dream.

It’s a lovely one, more of a memory than anything else, but a dream, nonetheless.

“This still feels like a bad idea.” 

“Isnae, ye’ll do great bun. Jus’ the ‘hawk now.” You’ve already finished the sides of his head, which were easy enough, but using actual scissors to cut hair is well outside your wheelhouse. 

“What if I mess it up?” 

“It’s jus’ hair, pretty girl. It grows.” 

“How’s it going out here?” Simon leans out the sliding door, Penny in his arms, and you try to plead with him with wide, nervous eyes. He chuckles. “Looks good so far.” 

“See?” Johnny smiles, one of the big ones that stretches his whole face and makes your knees weak. Penny loves them too, and she claps her hands together, giggling. 

“But… I don’t… I’m going to mess it up.” Johnny stands, warm hands on your arms. 

“Ye could shave me bald and wouldnae mess it up, bun.” You nod, but the acid, noxious taste of worry is still there on your tongue. 

“I just… I…” you’re starting to shake a little, fingers squeezing together. He tugs you into his chest, kisses your temple. 

“Ye’re alright.” 

“I know.” You do know. You’re safe. They’d never hurt you, never betray your trust or even yell at you, but muscle memory doesn’t forget. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Ye dinnae have to be sorry.” 

“It’s okay, bunny.” Simon murmurs, but it’s not. 

Is this how you’ll spend your whole life? Afraid? Shaking? 

No. 

Not anymore. 

“If I ruin his hair… it’s not my fault.” Simon chuckles. 

“We’ll blame him.” You turn back to Johnny and put your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath, surveying the mop of unruly brown strands, and he covers one of yours with his own. 

“It’s okay. If ye-“ 

“No, I can. I can do it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a hair cut, for crying out loud, but for some reason it feels like plunging into the deep end of a pool. “Okay,” you breathe, making the first snip. He nods encouragingly and you roll your shoulders. 

“See? Not so bad?” 

“Not so bad.” You cut again and again, trying to manage it all into a proper length, shaping as best you can. 

Each snip, something grows. Your hands tremble a little less, your jaw unclenches, lips flexing upward into your cheeks. You breathe deeper. 

When Johnny turns around, he doesn’t care about his hair, or the slightly uneven chunks, or the fresh clippings on his shirt. 

He cups your face, kissing you before pulling away to rub his thumb across your cheek. 

“There she is.” 

Spring rain. There’s nothing like it.

It washes away the gloom of winter. It’s the turning of a page, the spine of a brand-new book snapped open with a splintering crack. Cabin fever becomes walks in the park, lunches and coffees outside, hanging out on balconies and patios.

Dead things turned to soil now sprouting new life.

Like you, you guess.

You’ve been dead before. If someone looked really closely, they could see it in your eyes. The grey of decay, the separation of iris and pupil. Dead and brought back not quite right, every time. Sally, stitched together incorrectly, the wrong pieces of patchwork, poorly aligned.

Every time he ripped another piece of you away, you found a different one, one less like you, to put in its place.

Every time, until you weren’t you at all. Until you were a girl in a mirror. Until you were a ghost.

It makes sense that you don’t know yourself now, haven’t known for years. On the run, there’s not a lot of time to stop and consider things like that, those pieces. Coffee or tea? Chocolate cake or vanilla? Do you like snow? Do you like the beach? 

Do you like yourself? 

You could have had these answers, you think. Could have learned these things, if it hadn’t turned out the way it did. If Simon and Johnny hadn’t turned out to be a hydra, mouths open, waiting to devour you.

Sunbeam kicks. They nail you in the bladder, and you wince, rubbing over the crest of your belly. “You’re killing me, you know that?” You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, every day. The aches and pains are never ending, your back and hips screaming by the end of a shift. You can’t sleep, the heartburn makes it hard to eat, you’re never comfortable.

The whole time, you curse them, Simon and Johnny.

Their fault, it’s their fault.

And yours too. 

But no matter how tired, how sore, how cranky you are, you can’t bring yourself to regret it, and in your dreams, it’s like all the bad, all the awful betrayal didn’t even happen. You dream of a family with them, Penny holding her little sibling, the five you together. It’s all been buried in your mind, too deep and nearly impossible to dig out. The visions of them, the longing, the good memories. You’re infested with them.

You didn’t want this. You wanted them, you wanted it all, and that might be the hardest thing about it. You weren’t given a choice, this decision was made for you, taken from you, just like almost everything else.

Except little sunbeam. You wanted them, chose them, will choose them, over and over, forever, keep them safe, make sure they know they’re loved.

No matter what. 

It’s the train, always the train.

Not the long rail train, the commuter train. The one that takes you to and from work, the one that’s sometimes-standing room only, though most people offer you their seat, which is surprisingly kind, compared to where you’re from.

Regardless, you feel the gaze on the train, and no matter how hard you scan, dissect, watch the people around you, there’s nothing. All three faces, three sets of eyes, three profiles, are never anywhere to be seen.

It’s overwhelming, unsettling. The stress of this prickling unease combined with the stress and physical strain of your job is taking its toll on both you and Sunbeam, as the midwife likes to remind you.

Take it easy, take some time off, try to relax. Stay hydrated, eat well.

Yeah… okay.

You rub your belly anxiously, tugging your hood farther over your head, trying to look around without being so obvious.

“Excuse me?” You jolt, startled by a man standing at your elbow, pointing to a vacant spot on a bench. “Would you like my seat?” His smile is subtle, matching an encouraging but not overly intrusive demeanor.

“Sure, thank you so much.” He nods, stepping to the side, into the space between the seat and the divider, close to the door. You try to swing your backpack in front of you, but it gets caught, and he snags it before it falls. “Sorry, thanks.”

“Of course, no problem.” You give him another glance. Really handsome, rich brown eyes you could get lost in. He’s got a baseball cap on, but it’s not pulled down over his face like your hood, he’s not trying to hide. “I’ll move when your stop comes up.”

“Okay, it’s not for a while so, no worries.” He might be kind, but he’s still a stranger, and you’re not going to divulge anything specific. Stranger danger. 

Not everyone is a threat but… 

“How far along are you?” You blink.

“Uh, about twenty-five weeks, give or take a few days.” He nods.

“My wife is due next week; it’s been a rollercoaster.”

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest.” You laugh, a little apprehensive, but also, a little glad, secretly, to have a casual conversation with someone. He sticks his hand out.

“I’m Kyle.” Your tongue rolls with the practiced name you’ve memorized, the one you’ve drilled into yourself over and over again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The next stop is announced, and he moves gracefully, reaching for his bag and tugging it over his shoulder, barely giving you a second glance.

“This is me, have a good day.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you when he’s getting off, doesn’t watch you through the window from the platform. He’s completely uninterested, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The box is delivered on a Tuesday.

The Scottish government gives you almost everything you need. Clothes, thermometers, baby books, a changing mat, a mattress, a sheet, a blanket, the list goes on. The box even doubles as a bassinet.

You cry over it. Rifling through everything, tears drip down your cheeks and you bury your face in your hands. You didn’t get to share an ultrasound with anyone, or have a shower, or hold someone’s hand to your belly as sunbeam kicked, but there’s this. A box full of baby stuff, a box that says no matter how hard it is, you and sunbeam will have a good start. Even Sunbeam’s room is halfway sorted at this point, crib set up, dresser half stocked with clothes, collection of diapers and burp cloths and bottles starting to pile up in various places in their room. You’ve made it comfortable, slowly, mix matched furniture and all.

Every day feels like a year, but as each one passes, you slowly adjust to a new normal, a new life. Something you made, again, from scratch, for yourself, your survival.

And now, for Sunbeam.

One day, maybe it will feel like home.

You really need to stop buying so much crap at the store.

You practically have to drag your grocery loot into the elevator, bags overflowing with fruit, vegetables, cans of formula. Random cleaning products, stuff for baby proofing, a new candle.

Apparently, some call this nesting. You just call it annoying.

You lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment, shifting your weight to alleviate the pressure on your spine.

Thirty weeks.

Ten weeks left.

Ten weeks left. It’s wild to even think about, to even say to yourself, or out loud. You’re going to be a mom in ten weeks. Going to have a whole human depending on you for every single thing, in ten weeks.

You’ll be alone, with a newborn, in ten weeks.

Alone.

It still aches. Stings. Salt in the wound-

Lit end of a cigarette against your skin.

You instinctively cup your belly, thumb rubbing over where one of your burn scars has been stretched by Sunbeam, and shiver.

You’re fine. You’re safe. Get it together.

“We’re home!” You announce to no one, no one except Gus the goldfish who’s swimming circles around his bowl. You got him two weeks ago on an impulse, following a pathetic, sad desire all the way to the pet store.

It’d be nice to have something to come home to. 

You tap a few flakes into the water and watch him gobble them up, oddly soothed by his presence in the flat.

This is how far you’ve fallen. Taking comfort in a damn goldfish.

You blow out a breath and fall onto the couch, swinging your legs up onto the cushions, dragging the pillows under your ankles, or what used to be your ankles. They’re more like overstuffed sausages now, tops of your sneakers cutting into your skin. Every chance you get, you’re finding places to sit at work, caught yourself leaning most of your weight on your patient’s beds, more than once. Thankfully, your coworkers are overwhelmingly understanding.

And when you come home, you do this. Collapse on the couch. Talk to a goldfish, or Sunbeam, or both.

The oddest trio: Mom, baby, goldfish.

You manage to limit yourself to three bites of ice cream before putting the carton away in the freezer. You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, apparently, not because you’re at risk for gestational diabetes, but because Sunbeam is already projected to be on the bigger side.

You look mournfully at container, spoon still in hand.

One more. What’s it going to hurt? One more bite isn’t going to turn Sunbeam into a giant, it’s-

Knuckles rap against your door.

Your blood goes cold, colder than ice, and you instinctively find the floor, crouching by the fridge, using it to shield yourself, keeping away from the door’s direct line of sight.

The knocking gets louder.

Someone’s saying something on the other side of the door, but you can’t hear it over the buzzing, beeping sound in your ears.

How. 

How? How did it happen so fast? Where did you fuck up? 

The fear you once felt for yourself pales in comparison to the true fear you feel now. You’re supposed to protect Sunbeam, supposed to keep them safe.

You’re supposed to be a mom. 

A sob claws its way out, and you clap your palm over your mouth, agony squeezing your heart, panic clutching your throat in a vise, choking off your air, throttling you until you’re gasping.

You should run, should sprint into the bedroom and grab the gun from under your mattress, should start crawling out the window to the fire escape.

You should do these things, but instead, you’re trapped, immobile, watching with horror as the deadbolt turns horizontal, sliding the lock free with a bloodcurdling click.

Your baby. You were supposed to keep your baby safe. 

You failed. 

You stand, so unsteady you have to support your weight by leaning against the counter. The only thing in here are kitchen knives, and you rip two from the block, one hiding behind your back, the other brandished in front of your body like a sword.

You’re going to die. 

But not without a fight. 

Tears wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke, sliding a hand over little Sunbeam, “I’m so- so sorry.”

The creak of the door handle is unmistakable, a metal whine scraping against the frame. You close your eyes.

“Bunny.”

Your heart stops.

The men you thought love you are standing just inside your kitchen, the sight of them turning your stomach, their eyes flicking between you and the shiny, sharp knife in your hand.

Johnny inches forward, his voice a low, gentle murmur, one that cracks your heart. “It’s okay pretty girl, we’re here to take ye home.”

“Get away from me.” The knife is practically rattling in your hand.

"It's alright. We’d never hurt ye, either of ye. We know what ye saw and-“

“N-no,” you sob, voice cracking, shoulders shaking, “don’t come near me.”

“Put that down, sweet girl, it’s alright.” Simon edges around the counter, caution and wary weighing his steps. They’re supposed to be muffled you think, soft, but they ring so loud.

“Stop!”

“Just let us explain, give us a minute-“

“I saw you! I saw you w-with him.” Your vision is blurred by tears, and you look down at your belly, desperate. “Just let us go, please. Don’t- don’t let him-“

“Listen to me, sweetheart. We have nothing to do with Phillip.” His name makes your flinch, and you inch backwards.

“You know him.”

“We do. He tried to kill us, betrayed us, on a mission. Nearly succeeded with Johnny.” The words conflict, mash together into a scramble you don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

More lies. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, I know you don’t. I wouldn’t if I was in your position either, but we’re telling the truth.” You shake your head.

“No. You’re just… you’re just trying to trick me.”

“We’re not,” Johnny murmurs, “We’ve always told ye the truth, bun. And we’d never hurt ye.” He steps forward. It’s too close, way too close, and you pivot, both knives still clutched in your hands.

“Put them down.” Simon instructs, a little bit of steel in his voice now. He can obviously see the one behind your back, and your heart starts to sink.

There’s no way out. You should have run when you had the chance. 

Stupid.

The girl in the mirror stays silent. She says nothing.

For all you know, she’s dead already. Killing blow dealt by your own hand.

You think about Sunbeam, all warm and safe, protected from the world, and despair swells in your chest, an entire ocean beneath your feet, waiting to swallow you up, drag you down and drown you.

“Now, sweetheart. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You laugh. It’s a sickly, nervous thing, too tinny and high pitched.

You’re falling apart. You’re not a fighter, you’re a runner, shot lame in a race rigged against you from the beginning. They’re closing in, wolves stalking the bleeding lamb between them, predators about to fall on prey.

 “Don’t,” whisper, fingers tightening around the knife in front of your body, unable to hold it steady through the trembling.

“Bunny, listen to us, please.” Johnny is reaching and you get trapped in his gaze, spiraling into the swirl of misery and fear, mirroring your own. “I love ye, we love ye. Ye belong with us, at home, where we can keep ye safe.” You slam your eyes shut, trying to block him out. “I’ve loved ye since the day I opened m’eyes and saw ye leaning over the bed. We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Simon moves. One powerful, huge step, and he’s on you, grabbing your arm, applying pressure to your knuckles to release the knife.

You scream. It’s instinct. Everything shuts down, narrowing down to one objective.

Run.

“Johnny,” he half shouts over your keening, holding gentle pressure against your arm as you try to rip yourself free. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You thrash, trying to twist out of his grip, shoulder shrieking in pain, and he goes with your momentum, providing slack so there’s no tension in your arm. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself sweetheart, you’re okay.”

You’re not. 

You’re not okay. You’ll never be okay. 

The walls close in, and it all becomes so clear. Your future, what will happen if they take you, if you leave here with them.

They’ll take Sunbeam. They’ll turn you over to Phillip, throw you out like trash, and you’ll die.

Are you going to let it happen, just like you let everything else? Are you going to roll over? Let it all be stolen, again and again? 

No. 

Simon reaches for the other knife and you swing it wide, slicing through the air until the blade meets flesh.

He hisses. Blood spills, drips down the handle, coats your fingers, and you stand there, frozen, gobsmacked.

Did you- 

Did you just- 

“Johnny,” he barks, but it barely registers, you’re too transfixed by the blood, hypnotized by it, too entranced to even register Johnny at your side, too stunned to see what’s in his hand.

A needle. 

He whispers your name, cradles your face-

And then everything goes black.

[choerypetal]

Meet and Greet / Homelander

summary: Homelander had never experienced an obsession before, nor was he even familiar with the term until he met you at the meet and greet, where you were dressed in a recognizable blue costume.

*Pt-2!! read after this one— *

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors, xo"

Everyone knew that Homelander wouldn't hesitate to admit his obsession with you. His drive to be the best was deeply ingrained in his mind, and during a meeting with the Seven, your image lingered in his thoughts. Fortunately, he managed to hide these distractions before Ashley could express her concerns about the upcoming show—a significant one, especially since Homelander knew you would be attending with your family. He always knows. 

And he was right. Your parents, being big fans of the Seven, never wanted to miss a single annual show. This meant you had to tag along. "Come on, you have to wear it! Make Homelander proud," your mother insisted, holding up a superhero costume made in your exact size. Make Homelander proud. You sighed, wanting to object, but your attempt to call your mother's name was drowned out by the loud music in the store and an overly enthusiastic clerk who repeatedly asked if you were satisfied with your find. She was also wearing a costume, though not Homelander's, which made you suspect there would be more than just Homelander present that day.  

Fortunately, you weren't the only one wearing the costume you had put on for your mother, making it easier to blend into the crowd. However, this also made it easier for Homelander to spot you as soon as he stepped on stage. With Ashley having access to the ticket records, finding your last name had been a simple task. His eyes remained fixed on the screen the moment your name appeared, and he mouthed your entire name just as Ashley's voice startled him, reminding him it was time to go on stage. 

“Welcome! How lovely you all are!” he announced in his typical rehearsed tone. He was growing increasingly annoyed; the whole theatrical aspect bored him. Why couldn't the Deep handle it today? Or even someone new, while he sat in the back, scrutinizing every silhouette to find yours. It wasn’t difficult either, given that your parents had ensured you got the best seats. His lips curled into a sly smirk. Bingo, he thought. It still surprised him that, even without knowing your face, the name matched his expectations perfectly. He had to know. He was the Homelander after all. He knew everything. 

Luckily he managed to let out of his usual monologue, with the new recruits being presented today, it let him more time in his hands. And that also meant, seeking out for you when he had the chance. 

The show concluded as expected, with your mother delighted to see her favorite hero on stage and your dad eager to meet Starlight again. During the ongoing meet-and-greet, Homelander couldn’t help but observe your every move. Despite your apparent boredom, the fact that you were wearing a costume identical to his caught his attention. He couldn't deny that you looked incredibly sexy, and he fantasized about having his hands around your waist, hearing your moans, and you begging for more. 

“Sir,” Ashley’s voice broke through his thoughts, catching him off guard and irritating him since it meant he couldn't keep watching you. After all, as Homelander, he was doing the city justice by ensuring your safety. Right? “It’s time for your meet-and-greet,” she reminded him. With a knowing nod, he indicated he would be right there. Little did you know, you were one of the few fans waiting in line to meet him. 

He wasn't entirely wrong. Once again, your mother had requested you to take a picture with him. You always wondered why she couldn't do it herself, citing being 'just shy,' but deep down you knew the real reason was that she wanted to see her own daughter with the man she fantasized about. Unlike her, you weren't a fan of superheroes and their inflated egos. Yet, here you were, waiting in line between a family and two fangirling girls. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful day. God Bless you!” he said, flashing a wide grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair after taking pictures. In just a few minutes, you would be up next, and you were acutely aware of it. He, too, was counting the people in line, noting your silhouette emerging behind a tall man. The way the outfit hugged your curves and the cape flowed on your back caught his eye. Oh how he wanted to fuck you right there. He wanted to have you all wrapped around his finger. And he knew exactly how to get you, if only Ashley was there. 

As you neared the photo booth, you reluctantly acknowledged that despite your aversion to heroes, Homelander possessed an undeniable allure. Whether it was his striking blue eyes or his impeccably groomed hair, you couldn't quite determine. “Next,” the disinterested employee called out, mirroring the lack of enthusiasm you had felt upon arriving at the show. Barely glancing at you, they scratched the bottom of your ticket and directed you toward Homelander. It was then that you made eye contact with him for the first time, and he couldn't look away.

"Hello, dear," he greeted you formally, like everyone else, but his tone made him stand out. His fingers gently rested on your waist, pulling you close until there was no space between you. "Say cheese!" the photographer prompted, but Homelander, true to form, knew more than just posing for a picture. "Nah, let me get my best side, will you?" he interjected, subtly extending your time together. The photographer hesitated, eyeing the remaining fans in line, but Homelander paid no attention. With a soft scoff, he leaned closer and murmured in your ear, his voice almost a whisper of a threat, yet his lips curved into a smile when he glanced down at you. "Loving the costume," he added with a quick smile for the camera. His charisma left you breathless, and he noticed you weren't ready for the picture.

His comment caught you off guard, and the way he leaned closer only added to your unease. Sensing your muscles tense at his touch, he directed the photographer to take another shot. The photographer, aware of the waiting line, was hesitant, but Homelander insisted. "We don’t want this beautiful lady to go home with a bad photo now, do we?" That damn bastard, the photographer likely thought, as you glanced at him hesitantly. He glanced at the line, sighed deeply, and the resignation in his eyes mirrored your own thoughts.

Homelander, on the other hand, relished the opportunity to keep you wrapped around his finger for as long as he desired. If he had the courage, or if your parents weren’t around, he might have invited you to join the Seven. But he knew better than anyone that he had to make a good impression. "Say cheese," the photographer repeated, his voice now tinged with boredom. You noticed the tension in Homelander’s jaw as he clenched it. He glanced at you, a smile playing on his lips, before glaring at the photographer, which was enough to make the poor man gulp silently and mirror the same grin.

And that's where his obsession took hold completely. The scent of your perfume, the way your hair was immaculately styled into a neat ponytail, and your lightly applied blush with rosy plum lips—all were irresistible to him. He couldn't deny that your lips were the most enticing he'd ever seen. His fingers now traced the leather of your Homelander costume, appreciating how it hugged your curves perfectly. Oh, how he...

“Done!” The photographer's almost relieved voice snapped John back to reality. Despite maintaining his composure during the photo session, his thoughts had wandered to fantasies of you. He imagined you beneath him, taking his cock so well, one hand firmly massaging your breast, his lips eagerly seeking the fresh milk oozing from your nipples. And you... so vulnerable, so petite around him, begging for more...

From that day on, Homelander never missed an opportunity to see your face again. It seemed almost too good to be true when he later had the chance to meet your mother and requested that you accompany her more often to their annual shows. He promised to show his appreciation, hinting that he would return the favor very soon.