#but please do not reblog if you're just going to argue or call me a rape apologist

[prince-of-elsinore]

might follow this up with more thoughtful meta and less of a vent but I gotta get this out: I finally got around to watching the second half of season 9 for the first time since 2019 and boy do I want answers. namely how did half of fandom (it feels like) get convinced that the season is a rape narrative and that sam's anger and response to the experience have anything to do with the trauma of possession and lacking bodily autonomy. I'll be honest, I was expecting to see where that reading comes from on this rewatch, and instead I realized how objectively inaccurate and misleading an analysis it is. and no, it's not 'open to interpretation'--it's very clear what the conflict is, why Sam reacts the way he does, and what the story arc is; it has everything to do Dean lying to Sam, treating him not like an equal partner but like the little brother that needs to be protected--and here's the crucial part--at the expense of others, and especially at the expense of Kevin's life, and what that means about their priorities and values as hunters. it's got nothing to do with the horrors of possession. it's got everything to do with Sam and Dean's ethical role in the world, their net effect for good or ill. and it's also tied up in Sam's martyr complex. it's a perfectly natural extension of his arc in every season up till now, his struggle with his personal innate nature, and his desire to be and do good.

The cool thing is that when you view season 9 as it's meant to be viewed, you see how perfect a response season 10 is, with its mirror narrative. the idea that season 9 and gadreel are an unhealed trauma hanging over sam and dean is totally false. in 8-10 each brother struggles with his own self-worth, feels they'd be better off dead--and there's situations where the world may be better off with them dead!--and the other brother goes to unethical lengths to save him, because they realize, and ultimately both accept, that they can't lose the other, not under those circumstances. lines like "don't go thinking that's the problem because it's not" and "I lied," that frustrated me before with their opacity, make perfect sense now that my view is no longer clouded by fan-invented discourse. they're linchpins in a cohesive, balanced, multi-season emotional story arc that bring sam and dean to a place of equal footing.

The sort of ironic part is that, I realize now, I never fully understood Sam's perspective in the conflict before. season 9 was stressful for me in the past, because, being a fan first and foremost of the brother bond, I could only really see Dean's perspective and interpret Sam's anger as a rejection of the bond. but I felt that I ought to be able to see Sam's side; I didn't want to just be angry at the character or his writing. so when I came to tumblr in the finale-induced craze of 2020 and read so much meta predicated on the idea of Sam carrying this deep wound over the bodily violation of Gadreel, I more or less thought 'oh I guess that's what I was missing, all these fans who call themselves sam stans repeat it unquestioningly so there must be truth to it, they ought to understand their own favorite character.' How silly of me, to ever trust internet fandom on anything (or stans on the character they stan). I should've returned to the source material ages ago, would've saved me a lot of headache. because I do understand Sam's behavior perfectly now. it doesn't anger me, because I get and sympathize with his values, just as I do with Dean's. turns out when you actually watch the show and don't try to force it to conform to your fan-made narrative, it actually makes sense.

[ofmd-archive]

my heart genuinely goes out to every black woman and woman adjacent black person who's hurt by episode 7 like i was by zheng being screwed over*. white dude dumly outsmarting zheng is hurting me because she's the sole character that looks remotely like me. Seeing spanish jackie's bar exploded and that it implies she was foolish enough to accept a fucking grandfather clock from someone she cut the nose off of can't be the best feeling.

Idc if the next episode "fixes" things. The statement has been made and the betrayal has been commited. Things can be mended but it sucks cus for once i let my guard down. I god forbid felt safe. I guess that teaches me a lesson.

"But that was just it - hate was exactly the right word. Hate is a force of attraction. Hate is just love with its back turned." -Terry pratchett

That is where i'm left with this show at this current time. No i will not be taking constructive criticism from white people on this. Only voicing this so that anyone reading and is currently feeling isolated, doesn't feel alone. Cus i don't think many people will point this out.

And i swear to fucking god if any of you white saviour fucks try to twist my pain here into justifying sending hate to the writers or actors then you will get the most biting letter i am able to compose from me. Don't you fucking dare take my pain and try to use it just to get your hateful rocks off.

[monstacheol]

𝓓𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝓗𝓸𝓶𝓮

❀Pairing: C.SC x afab! reader

❀Summary: When your husband goes on a two-week business trip, you are left alone in the comfort of your shared home until your heat hit unexpectedly. With Cheol away, you have to break this heat soon before he comes back. Turns out….he came back sooner than you thought.

❀WC: 4.3K (Originally supposed to be 2K words but I wrote too much.)

❀Warning: Dom! Alpha Seungcheol, Sub! Omega Reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe everyone), mild dirty talk, breeding, mention of a baby, pet name: (y/n): baby, princess, sweet girl; Cheol: cheol, daddy( a few time) (I'm missing out a lot. Let me know and I'll add more.)

❀Taglist: @kyeomiis @onlywonwoorideul @scoupsieee @jimintopiaaaa @gyuguys @rissepuffs04 @yawnozone

❀Notes: It has been a while since I wrote smut, especially an omegaverse one, so I don't know if this is good. I worked hard on it the best I could. Please bear with me. I am rusty and my writing style has changed. It is also proofread and edited. I edited it the best I could. So if there is any minor grammar error, I'm so sorry. If this is any good, I'll write the next prompt I had in mind. One of two or three that I have before school starts for me. So I hope you enjoy it and if it's awful (I think it is but that's my opinion because I was stressing about it for weeks), I'm so sorry and I hope to improve soon. Please comment, like, reblog for support.

You were curled up on the bed, panting, hot, and wearing nothing but your husband's t-shirt and your fingers stuffed inside as you were surrounded by your husband's clothes in your lovely nest. Your mind was lost in a daze as you could smell his scent flowing around you, leading you to fuck yourself in bliss. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as you imagined his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, and his breath on your skin. You moan softly, feeling the intensity building up inside you. The fantasy of him being there with you pushed you over the edge, bringing you to a shuddering climax that left you breathless. But you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. You kept pumping yourself, imagining how he would do it.

How did we come to get to this point? How did this even happen? Well…

"Two weeks," you question.

Your husband nods his head as he adds, "Yes, two weeks."

A two-week business trip alone here in your home. You knew that your husband would be taking an upcoming business trip, but you didn't know it would be this long. You anticipated a few days at most, not the entire two weeks. The thought of being alone in the house for that long makes you feel a bit anxious and lonely as you pout.

"I know that look. You're pouting," Seungcheol said with a teasing smile.

In denial, you softly argue, "I'm not pouting; I'm just... not used to you being away for so long," you reply, trying to mask your disappointment. Seungcheol chuckles, knowing how much you will miss him. He then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. As I breathed in his scent of cherry and sandalwood, "It will be alright. I promise to call you every day and make it up to you when I get back," he reassured you, kissing your forehead.

You knew he was right, but what to do in a house by yourself? You and your husband have always been together. You were first college sweethearts, meeting each other through a mutual friend. Then, the moment you both graduated, he gave the sweetest proposal, and you've been inseparable ever since. But after three years of marriage, this will be the longest he has ever been away. You can't help but feel anxious about being apart for so long, but you have to make the most of it. Maybe you can hang out with your friends more often, or take Kkuma to that park she likes to go to. Perhaps you can finally finish that project you've been putting off. The possibilities are endless. He finished packing his luggage for this journey, and after he was done, you both walked to the door. You could hear tiny steps coming behind you as Kkuma followed closely. You both stopped at the entrance doorway as Kkuma sat there below your feet, looking up with those big eyes. Your husband kneeled down to pet her and show her lots of affection.

"Kkuma. Be a good girl, princess, while Daddy is away. Make sure to look out and take care of Mommy," Seungcheol cooed as he ruffled her hair, trying not to ruin the cute pink bow he placed on her head. He stood up from his kneeling position, and he turned to you, still pouting.

"You promise to call," you assert, looking up at him. Seungcheol smiled down at you, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. "Of course, I promise," he replied before kissing you.

"Don't worry, I will be back before you know it," Seungcheol assured you with a smile, grabbing your face and pecking your lips.

That was nine days ago. And now, here you are, sitting on your shared bed, surrounded by his clothes. In heat. Trying to relieve yourself before your husband returns. The first day without him was fine. You got your daily message from him, telling you how he misses you and sending you pictures, and you always responded. You even get to spend time with your friends. The second day went without a hitch as well. Then the third, then the fourth. But on the fifth day, you felt off. You sensed that something wasn't right. You felt tired. You didn't feel like yourself. You care less about eating or drinking and more about just lying down and resting. You tried to shake off the feeling, but it persisted. It was then that you realized that, you were about to go in heat. You didn't think it would happen so soon and on the day that your husband was gone. You gasp as your fingers pump inside you vigorously, the pleasure building as you give in to your body's desires. You came so many times, leaving the bed and your panties soaked with your release, but it wasn't enough. You need more. You crave for him. You need his touch. You need him.

"Cheolie," you whimper.

"Y/N," you heard.

You froze as you heard the voice you didn't expect to hear. You look up to see your husband staring there, wearing only casual clothes with a surprise on his face.

"C-Cheol. "W-What are you?"

"You're in heat, aren't you?" Seuncheol asked.

You didn't say anything, but your silence said it all for him. "My poor baby," he said as he stepped closer to you. He climbed into the bed toward you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your face.

"Left alone, all hot and bothered. Missing your Alpha so much that you made a nest out of all of his clothes. So much that you have to finger yourself just to feel a little relief. It must hurt, doesn't it?" Seungcheol said as his hand brushed through your hair.

Tears trickled down your cheeks as you nodded. "It hurts so much, Daddy," you said as you reached out, clutching his shirt. "P-Please," you begged.

Seungcheol shushed you gently, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "It's okay, baby girl. I'm here now, baby. Daddy's home. Daddy will take care of you," he whispered soothingly, kissing your head.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent, making your head spin. He pulled away to drape kisses across your face until they finally landed on your soft lips. You melted into the kiss as it became passionate and intense, completely losing yourself in the moment. You wrap your arm around him as he deepens the kiss, laying you down on the bed. The kiss became electrifying. His hands traced the curves of your body, causing you to gasp in pleasure, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth. His lips then traveled from your jaw to your neck. You couldn't help but lose yourself in the passion of his touch.

"My sweet girl," Seungcheol murmurs into your neck as he inhales your scent. Your sweet scent of (whatever scent you want it to be). He groans softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You were going crazy. Him. His touch. His scent was intoxicating. It was enough to make you go wild. You never wanted it to end.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs, his voice filled with longing. His lips attacked your neck, kissing, biting, and sucking, which you were certain would leave a mark. You uttered a soft gasp, feeling a rush of desire and anticipation coursing through your body. His hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you even more.

"Miss you so much that I came back early to surprise my darling wife, and what do I see? You in heat, wearing my shirt, fingers inside that pretty pussy of yours, smelling so irresistible." He presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone. He grabs h̶i̶s̶ your shirt, pulling it over your head, revealing your naked body underneath, just for him. "It's enough to send me into a rut," he whispers huskily.

His words made your pussy clench. God, do you need him? You reach out for him, grabbing his shirt. "Cheollie. Your shirt," you whine.

Seungcheol faintly chuckles. "What? What do you want?" he teasingly asks. You grab his shirt and pull on it. "I want it off," you whisper, your voice filled with desire.

Seungcheol obliged, removing his shirt and throwing the piece of clothing on the floor, not caring where it landed, revealing his well-toned chest and toned abs. Was this man gorgeous or what? You couldn't resist running your hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Like what you see, baby?" Seungcheol asked with a smirk, his eyes full of mischief.

You nodded eagerly, unable to tear your gaze away from him as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, and you couldn't resist kissing him back. The kiss deepened.

His large hands cup your breasts, massaging them with care, and then he leans down to attach his lips to one of your nipples as he toys with the other. You arch your back in response, a soft moan escaping your lips as his touch sends shivers down your spine. He continues to suck and bite your sensitive flesh, making you squirm with pleasure as he repeats it to others.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close and feeling his cock pressing against the front of his pants, hard and ready for you. You gasped as you felt the fiction of him grinding against you. "Cheol," you whimper.

He looked up at you with a smirk. "Patient baby," he whispered before teasefully biting your nipple. You pouted. You want more. You need his lips. You need more. You need to feel him inside you. He releases your swollen nipple with a 'pop' before trailing kisses down your stomach to the waistband of your panties. You knew you were going to get exactly what you wanted. He hooked his finger on the waistband of your panties, pulling down slowly until they were completely off, revealing your wet core. You could hear a sudden, small curse fall from his lips as he saw how wet you were.

"Baby, you're dripping so much," Seungcheol murmured. You gasped as his fingers traced the outer edges of your folds. "How many times did you cum?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire. You felt a surge of arousal at his words, your body responding eagerly to his touch. "So many," you admitted breathlessly.

Seungcheol softly chuckled at your cuteness. He lightly blew on your wet heat, causing you to shiver and whine. He then grabbed your thighs to place them on his shoulder, placing kisses along your inner thighs and making you shiver with anticipation. "Then allow me to make you cum some more," he whispered seductively as he trailed his lips up towards your core.

His tongue dips between your slick folds, eliciting a moan from your lips. "You taste so sweet," he growled before diving back in with fervor. The intensity of his actions sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you arch your back in ecstasy. His tongue traced from your dripping hole to your clit, as he sucked on the sensitive bud, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your hands grip his hair as he continues to expertly work his magic. "Please don't stop," you beg, desperate to reach the peak of ecstasy.

"Feels good," he murmurs. "So good," you whisper, feeling the tension building within you. He groaned against your core, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation. If there's one thing that Seungcheol loves the most, it's pleasing you until you're a quivering mess of pleasure and desire. He could eat you all day if you let him. The way he makes you feel is unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you never want it to end. Seungcheol's skilled tongue continued to work its magic; you could hear the knot in your stomach tighten. You were close.

"I'm close," you gasp, your body trembling with anticipation as he brings you to the brink of release. He muttered, not even letting up, "Let go, baby."

His voice was low and husky, and his words sent a shiver down your spine as you finally let go, the intensity of your release washing over you in waves of pleasure. Seungcheol continued to please you, drinking everything you had to offer, his skilled tongue never faltering in its movements. As you came down from your high, he leaned up to your lips to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled away for a moment to pull on the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing length. Your mouth watered as he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly stroked it. "You want it?" he asked, his voice husky.

You nod eagerly. "Beg for it," Seungcheol growls.

"P-please. Cheol," you begged, your voice filled with need and desperation.

"Please, what?" he titillated, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Please put it in, Daddy. I want to feel you. I want you inside me so bad. I want you to knot me up. I want you to fill me up completely with your cum," you whimpered. Your body ached for his touch, aching to be filled with pleasure.

"You want Alpha to cum inside? Want me to fill you up? Give you my knot. Fill you up so deep with cum until you are swollen with my babies? You want that, don't you?" He whispered seductively, his voice low and husky. You nodded eagerly. Just the thought of him breeding you and filling you with his cum just sent shivers down your spine. You want it so badly right now.

"Please, Alpha," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. The anticipation of feeling him inside you was almost unbearable. "What a good girl, asking so politely," he compliments.

His hands roamed over your body, teasing and tantalizing you as he positioned himself between your legs. With a smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "I'll give you everything you want, my sweet Omega."

With a low growl, he slowly pushed inside you, making you gasp and arch your back in pleasure. He groans as the feel of your tightness envelopes him. "Fuck, you're so tight, princess," he murmurs.

As he began to move in a slow and steady rhythm, you felt every inch of him pulsating within you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The sight below Seungcheol was so mesmerizing. Just seeing you writhing beneath him, your eyes fluttering and your lips parting in silent ecstasy, was enough to drive him wild with desire.

With each thrust, he could feel your body responding eagerly to his touch, igniting a fire within him that only grew stronger with each passing moment. His thrust began to pick up speed as your moans grew louder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room with an intoxicating rhythm. "Alpha," you moan. Your voice is filled with desire and need. You are in ecstasy right now.

Seungcheol's name on your lips only fueled his passion further, pushing him to give you everything you craved. As he continued to move inside you, the intensity of your connection soared to unforseen levels, rendering both of you breathless and lost in the moment. The two of you were intoxicated by each other.

He lifts your legs to place them on his shoulder, deepening the penetration and intensifying the pleasure. The change in angle allowed him to hit all the right spots. "T-There," you utter. "There?" he reiterates, his voice husky with desire. "Yes, right there," you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside you, making your body tremble with pleasure. He chuckles slightly as he repeatedly hits that spot, causing you to lose control of your senses. Your hands grip the sheets tightly as your hips move in perfect sync with his thrusts, the sensation becoming more intense with each movement. The way your moan was mixed with the squelching sound of your wet cunt was music to his ears.

He paused his movement to pull out, leaving you to whimper in protest. He lifts you up and changes positions. His back presses against the headboard, and you now sitting on his lap. Holding your body in place, he lines his cock up with your entrance and slowly enters you again, filling you. Your body takes over, and you ride him with wild abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "That's it. Good girl," he mutters as his eyes roll back, biting his lips.

Your moan mingles with his groans, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoes through the air, heightening the intensity of the moment. His hips thrust upward, meeting yours in the middle, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts deeper and harder. "Alpha," you whine.

With his half-lid eyes, he saw the pure ecstasy on your face. Drinking in your fuck-out expression and my god, you look beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. There were so many words he could use to call you right now. But right now, at this moment, you were the most exquisite sight he had ever seen. You were everything that he had dreamed of, and so much more. And he could fall in love with you again and again and again.

Your bounces become more urgent, and your breath comes in short gasps. "So good. So deep," you whisper breathlessly. "You like that. You like your Alpha cock deep inside you, don't you?" His words send a shiver down your spine as you nod eagerly, unable to form a coherent response. His eyes lock with yours. He leans in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers as he continues to move inside you with a relentless rhythm. The kiss deepens as his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him.

Seungcheol's hand reaches between your bodies as his thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing small circles that push you closer to the edge. You moan at his touch. Pulling away from the kiss, your gaze is locked on his half-lidded gaze, a gaze full of desire and intensity. You felt the coils in your stomach tighten as the pleasure built, and your body was on the brink of ecstasy. You were close, and he knew it. His lips twitch into an amusing smirk, the corners crinkling with amusement. "That's my girl. Such a good girl for me, riding me so beautifully. Are you close, baby," he whispers huskily.

"I'm close. So close, Cheol," you gasp out as your climax approaches. Seungcheol's movements become more urgent as he whispers in your ear, "Let go for me, princess. Let me feel you come apart around me."

As you cry out his name and finally reach your peak, "That's it, baby. Let's go. You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as you ride out the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your body trembles in his arms. Your cunt clenches around him as he continues to move inside you, prolonging your ecstasy. "Fuck!"

Seungcheol groans at the feel of your walls pulsating around him. Seungcheol holds your body close, flipping you back into your previous position, laying you on your back. His hand grips your hips tightly as he pounds into you relentlessly, his own desire evident in his intense gaze. You arch your back in response, reacting to his movements with equal fervor, surrendering completely to the pleasure he bestows on you. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your moans and his grunts. Seungcheol's pace became more erratic as he chased his own release, his movements becoming more desperate and erratic.

"Fuck. Are you ready for Alpha knot?" he growls, his voice low and husky with need. You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation as he finally locks you in place with a deep, primal thrust. His knot thickens and swells, filling you as you cry out in ecstasy. In that moment, you are overwhelmed by the feeling of being claimed by your Alpha, and you can't help but surrender to the primal pleasure coursing through you. His primal growl, his fast, aggressive pace, and the feel of his knot locking inside you send you over the edge, bringing you closer to another orgasm. His breath ragged against your ear as you clung to him desperately.

"C-Cheol," you begged, your voice filled with desperation and desire. You feel his body tense up as he releases it inside you, filling you with his warmth. The sensation of his release triggers your own, sending you both into a state of blissful ecstasy. You cling to him desperately, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being claimed by your Alpha. Your bodies were entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and heavy breathing, totally exhausted by the raw intensity. The room is filled with the scent of sweat and sex.

Seungcheol waited for his knot to swell down before he could pull out and collapse next to you, completely depleted. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tender embrace. Pushing your hair to the side. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. His hand caresses your waist gently. You nodded. "I'm fine."

Seungcheol smiled, relieved to hear your response. He placed a kiss on your forehead. You were so happy to see him. If this was ever a dream, you never wanted to wake up. Your husband is home. Early... Wait. Why is he back here so early?

"Wait. You came back so early. I thought-."

"Ah," Seungcheol interrupted. "We ended up finishing up early, and instead of me staying for the next few days, I decided to go home. I wanted to call you to let you know, but I wanted to surprise you. Turns out you surprised me," he chuckled.

Oh, so that's why. You didn't expect him to come back early, nor were you expecting your heat to come either. But you were glad. "Welcome back home. I'm glad you're back," you replied, grateful for his presence. Seungcheol thanked you, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I'm glad too. I felt awful leaving you here on your own without anyone. So I was thinking, " Seungcheol started. Your eyes turn to him, curious about what he is going to say next. His hand grabs your hand, twirling around your wedding band on your finger before he places a kiss on the back of your hand. He looked into your eyes and finally said what he wanted to say.

"I was thinking, and I know we have talked about this so much, but why don't we start trying for a baby? I think we are ready to take that big step," he said, looking at you with a hopeful expression.

His sudden suggestion stunned you. A baby. A baby with Seungcheol. This. This was a huge decision. And you know you both talked about it during your marriage and said that you both would give it some thought. But now, faced with the reality, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the weight of such a life-changing decision. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, before responding to Seungcheol's proposal.

"Now before you answer, if you don't want to, I won't force you, and I will wait as long as you want. Whatever you decide, I will respect it. But just know that I love you so much, and I want to take that next step with you in our marriage. I want to be the father of our children. Plus, I think Kkuma will love having siblings to play with," he added.

You giggled at his last response. Deep down, you knew that you had always dreamed of starting a family with him. From the moment you said, 'I do', you knew he was the one you wanted to share your life with and raise a family with. And this. This new chapter of having a baby together would be the perfect step. "I love you too, and I can't imagine a future without you by my side," you finally said, feeling the weight of his words sink in. "Let's start planning for our family together," you joyfully say.

Seungcheol smiled back at you, his eyes shining with joy as he held your cheek, placed a gentle kiss on your lips, and then placed a few more. He smiled softly at you, looking into your eyes, before flipping you over on your stomach on all fours, causing you to squeal. "C-Cheol," you say.

"What? You didn't think this was over?" Seungcheol responded with a mischievous smile. You could feel his lips tracing kisses across your back. His lips trace up your back, making you shiver, and you cry out in protest.

"B-But. Shouldn't we take a break? You just returned from your trip," you mentioned between breaths.

Seungcheol just chuckled and disregardingly ignored what you had just said. His hands roam your body as he leans over, his chest pressing against your back.

"We both know your heat doesn't end there. If we want that baby, we need to keep going. I did promise I would make it up to you, and I intend to keep my word," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

His hand grabs your face, turning you to look at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"We got all night, baby, and I want… No, I NEED to make sure you're nice, full, and swollen with my baby. And Daddy will make sure that happens," Seungcheol whispered with a devilish grin.

You softly moan in response, feeling a rush of desire and anticipation. Seungcheol's lips curled into a knowing smile before he pressed them against yours, sealing the unspoken agreement between you. It was then that you realized that the night was far from over.

[navybrat817]

Imagine being in a room along with this man🫠🥵

Yes, lovely! Let's imagine that, shall we?

Lockdown

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're stuck in a room with Bucky and he's more than thrilled about it. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Longing, tension, teasing, dirty thoughts, Bucky is down bad for you, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A small blurb. Maybe it'll turn into something more. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Brilliant, Barnes. Was it your intention to break the door handle or are you just not on your game today?”

Bucky counted to three in his head before he swung around to face you, exasperation written all over his face as he dropped the ruined handle to the ground. It didn’t seem to phase you since you flashed him a beautiful smile, one that made you appear more innocent than he liked to believe you were. He wondered how that lipstick would look smeared from your cheeks and chin. And along his cock.

Fuck, we wanted to ruin you.

“Can you go two minutes without busting my balls?”

You returned his grumpy stare with a flirty smirk. Not once in the time that he knew you had you shown any sort of fear toward him. You treated him like a person. That included you bouncing back and forth between flirting with him and giving him shit, which he gladly gave you in return.

The fact that you could dish it out and take it just as well made him respect the hell out of you.

He wondered just what else you could take.

“Sure. Two minutes. You can time me,” you shrugged, holding up your hand to inspect one of your nails. “And when those two minutes are up, then what? We wait for backup or try to figure out a way out? Because I have a dinner date tonight and I don’t want to be late.”

He ignored the surge of jealousy that shot through his veins. When he asked about your plans for tonight, you answered “meeting a friend for dinner” and refused to elaborate further. He had a feeling it was something more and you just said “date”. A fucking date. It drove him mad because you never once mentioned seeing anyone and you sure as fuck didn’t act tied down.

But if you’d let him tie you down…

“You may need to reschedule that dinner,” he smirked before he could let his imagination run wild, watching as the smile slipped from your lips. “Because the only way out is through that door and backup won’t be here until tomorrow morning.”

Your fists clenched as you got to your feet. Did you know your dress had ridden up your thighs a bit? Were you teasing him? “And you broke the fucking handle.”

“I sure did,” he shrugged when your nostrils flared. “Oops.”

He tried to tamper down his excitement as he leaned his back against the closest wall and observed you, but he couldn’t help himself. He had you all to himself for a short while. Maybe during that time he could convince you why you should be with him and not some random dinner date.

Sure he could. He had charm and could be persuasive when the occasion called for it. He’d treat you like a goddess if you let him.

You were his mission and he was more than happy to complete it.

“Better get comfortable, sweetheart,” he smiled before you could argue. “You’re stuck with me tonight.”

What do we think? Should we have more? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: please enjoy the first chapter!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“No, no, not the pink, red,” you cup your hand over your ear pod, “exactly what it says on the order sheet.” 

Were anyone to see you, sitting in the dirt, with a brush in hand, all alone, they might think you’re a bit out there. You, talking to the air, dusting off a clump of soil, orchestrating your own voice with the bristles. You dip your head as you focus on what the voice in your ear is saying. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

Surprise! Your whole world is crashing into pieces. 

[adumbratrapedme]

tsukishima x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between tsukishima and reader.

wc. 3,5k words aprox. | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. angst to fluff, teen pregnancy mentions, etc. TW: BAD ENGLISH X,D

links: kenma | hinata | kageyama | yamaguchi | yachi(!? teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! Please read the note at the end! And make sure you reblog if you liked it heh-

General Headcanons:

╭⋅ When you first tell him, his initial reaction is complete silence. His golden-brown eyes widen for a brief second before he pushes his glasses up, avoiding eye contact. ╭⋅ His rational mind immediately jumps to practical concerns: finances, school, and future plans. ╭⋅ I also have this idea that Yamaguchi would be the first one he would go to, although we see Tsuki as someone cold, I know he trusts Yamaguchi with all his being. ╭⋅ Probably a little rude when you first break the newssz… ╭⋅ Tsukishima isn't one for grand declarations, but his actions speak volumes. He starts researching everything - prenatal care, parenting, balancing school and work. ╭⋅ Becomes incredibly protective of you. If anyone dares to judge or gossip about your situation, his glare alone is enough to silence them!!! ╭⋅ He goes out of his way to make sure you're comfortable. He'll bring you snacks, make sure you're not overexerting yourself, and even argue with doctors if he thinks you're not being taken seriously but don’t ya’ dare make a comment on it or he will deny how much he cares!! ╭⋅ Though he's still sarcastic and snarky, his teasing becomes lighter, more affectionate. You'll often catch him staring at you with a mixture of awe and worry.

The words hang in the air between you.

“I’m pregnant.” At first, Tsukishima freezes. His gaze locks onto you, and for a moment, you wonder if he even heard you. His eyes widen slightly behind his glasses, but he doesn’t speak. His silence feels suffocating. “…Say something.” Your voice trembles, barely above a whisper.

He finally shifts, letting out a harsh breath through his nose, running a hand through his blond hair.

“You’re serious?” His tone is sharp — defensive.

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Kei.”

Tsukishima stands abruptly, pacing the room like he’s trying to escape the weight of the news. His mind races. He’s always prided himself on being in control, on having a plan for everything. But this? This was never part of the plan. “We’re still kids,” he mutters under his breath. “We can’t… we can’t do this.”

His words cut deep.

“I know it’s not ideal, but… unfortunately it’s happening,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

But Tsukishima is spiraling. His insecurities — his fear of being useless, of being a failure — consume him. He feels like the scared little boy he used to be, watching his family fall apart. “What about school? What about your future?” His voice is colder now. “Do you really think this is going to work out? Do you think I’m ready to be a father?”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over.

“I didn’t expect this either, Kei. But I thought… I thought you’d at least try to be here for me.” His heart cracks at the sight of your tears. He wants to comfort you, but he’s too afraid. He’s terrified of messing everything up — terrified that he’ll hurt you or the baby. So he says nothing.

You shake your head, grabbing your bag.

“If you don’t want to be part of this, just say it. I won’t force you to stay.”

The door slams behind you, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

That night, Tsukishima doesn’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, replaying your words over and over. He called Yams a few minutes after you left to explain the situation. He ranted about his fears and admitted how he treated you. Of course, Yams was shocked by the news, but he made sure to make Tsukishima realize how rude he’d been toward you—and kind of pushed him to apologize.

The guilt gnaws at him. He knows he hurt you — knows he’s running away from his own fears. But he can’t stop thinking about you, walking through this alone, carrying his child.

The next day, he shows up at your door, like he usually would when walking to school together —except this time yams isn’t here — His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

When you open the door, you’re surprised to see him, but you quickly mask your emotions.

“What do you want?” You tell him as you hang your backpack on your shoulder and close the door behind you.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. But then he steps forward, closing the distance between you. “I’m sorry.” His voice is low, almost a whisper. “I was scared.”

Your eyes soften, but you stay guarded.

“You think I’m not scared too?”He nods, guilt washing over him.

“I know. And I should have been there for you.” He takes a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know if I’ll be a good father. Hell, I don’t even know how to take care of myself and even our relationship sometimes. But…”

He reaches out, gently taking your hand.

“I want to try. I’m not going to leave you — or the baby. We’ll figure it out. Together.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes — the vulnerability he rarely shows anyone.

“Kei…” Your voice breaks, he pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again. His arms around you feel like home, even if the future is uncertain.

“I’ll be better,” he murmurs against your hair. “For you. For our kid.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips through the tears.

“Our kid, huh?”He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression softens in a way you rarely see. “Yeah. Our kid.”

There’s still fear lingering in his heart, but for the first time, it’s outweighed by something stronger — love.

As he rests his hand gently on your stomach, a rare, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“We’re going to be okay.” And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Tsukishima isn’t perfect, and he knows the road ahead won’t be easy. But he’s determined to stay by your side, to be the partner and father you both deserve.

chan's note: hihihi soo as i said before this will be a series for all haikyuu boys, i'll try to cover all the aspects of a teen pregnancy by chapters such as: breakin the news to friends, birth, first days, etc. As for now i'll finish all karasuno's first years (and kenma) and ill continue with the second years & 3rds years.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101

if anyone else wants to be part of the taglist just tell me heh..

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Nika's Open Mic Night!

𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓/𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕟

Calling all the LADS writers of Tumblr

Please read → Everyone and anyone is free to join. Write something for the prompt and tag someone who you'd like to see participate. You can do it in a reblog to this post or make your own post. Your character can be a self-insert, your MC, or an OC If you make your own post please add me in your taglist or tag it with #nikasopenmicnight I love reading you guys work. I'm going to be making an ongoing list with links to all the stories of everyone who chooses to join. There is no deadline have fun !

Okay I'll shut up now here's the prompt

the prompt: running into your main lads man (boyfriend) while you're out with your second favorite lads man (as a friend) and how they would react. [Credit: Anon]

I'll go first....Who's next?

This was supposed to be a quick trip, in and out, get what I need and leave. I should’ve gone to a different store because I knew better than to think I'd make a ‘quick trip’ to target. Dumbass. Nothing was ever a quick trip when me and Raf hung out. So here I am buying all new decor for my library at home. Rafayel stood by giving his opinion even when I didn't ask for it “How many blankets does one girl need?”

“There’s no such thing as too many blankets” I giggled as I squat down to chose a fluffy red blanket. I knew Sylus would like this no matter how much he likes to act like he doesn't care for them I see how he throws one over his lap when it’s within reach. “Thinking of me?” I jump at the sudden sound of his voice looking up to see his tall frame looming over me. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pop-up on me considering he has my location. I couldn’t help the smile that split my face in two as I looked up at him. I stood up and shoved the blanket in this direction. “What do you think?” His hand gently ran up and down the fabric, but his intense stare was fixated over my shoulder “It’s nice”

I turned to see Raf giving Sylus a just as intense stare, but instead of a frown like Sylus he had a smile on his face. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and I could practically feel the lightning cracking between them. Am I in the middle of some kind of pissing contest? Men. “Sylus stop being rude he's my friend” I poked him in his side which made him jolt, but he finally looked at me. His gaze softened slightly as our eyes locked. “Princess i’m not doing anything” He poked me in my forehead and I swatted his hand away; he knows I hate when he does that. “Don’t play dumb” I scowled at him and all he did was give me that sexy ass smirk. Sometimes I wish he was ugly …. no I don’t. Sylus put his gaze back on Rafayel and pulled me impossibly close to him by my waist. “Apologies if I'm interrupting, but we have an appointment with a tailor that we can’t miss”

Why is he lying? This is the first i’m hearing of said appointment. I struggled in his hold trying to pry his fingers from my waist, but he gave me a few small squeezes making me snort with laughter.

Raf didn’t even try to argue he threw his hands up in surrender “No worries I have paintings to finish” he grabbed his items that he tossed in the cart, gave my nose a pinch along with a quick “I’ll talk to you later” and sauntered off. The second Rafayel was out of sight I managed to wiggle my way out of Sylus' iron grip “What appointment are you talking about?”

“There isn’t one I just didn’t like the way he looks at you” He said in a matter-of-fact tone as if I was supposed to know that. “How exactly does he look at me?”

“The same way I look at you” I narrowed my eyes at him inquisitively; he returned the same look and I knew he was mocking me. “So you don’t trust me” It was more of a statement rather than a question.

“And here I thought your deductive reasoning skills were improving” he shifted his weight as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I trust you sweetie I don’t trust him he wants to be more than a friend” something was off although he seemed annoyed I could tell that it wasn’t me he was upset with. All of his tells were on full display by the way he avoided eye contact with and how his fingers absentmindedly tapped on his bicep. “Are you jealous?” I teased poking his chest repeatedly. He glowered at me as I tried and failed to stop the evil grin that spread across my face. “You’re enjoying this a little too much for my liking”

“You’re so cute when you're jealous” I reached up to pinch his cheek but as always he grabbed my wrist before I could even get close. “Enough” he’s so sick of my shit, but it’s not like he’s going anywhere. "Don't worry no one can steal me from you"

tagging w/ no pressure ;

@who-mentioned-rhys-larsen @irandial @ollieneedsamilkshake @phoenixiaxia @luxis-journal

@deepspacenova @world-of-hearts @comatosebunny09 @leighsartworks216 @awesomephilosophus

@ersharyzst

[jadeddangel]

Adam x reader (smut)

Disclaimer: This story is meant for mature audiences, If you're not over the age of 18, please do NOT interact with any of my work. Any and all characters I write for are over the age of 18. Having said that, please enjoy the story. Reblogs are always appreciated!!

Warnings : Adam being well adam, smut, hair-pulling, misogyny, p in v, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink ,dom! Adam, sub! Reader, minor sexism, and I think that's all let me know of I missed any.

AN: This is my first time writing for Adam, so please be respectful. This isn't proofread.

🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶

You were Adam's third and hopefully final wife, you had been aware of the exterminations by the time you and Adam had started dating... which meant once a year adam left you... home alone and worried.. I mean what if one day he never came home? What if he was hurt? What if he was stuck down there with those... those THINGS... it had been hundreds of years since the two of you started dating and that fear... it never went away...

Adam had left you alone in your shared home claiming he had a meeting with the princess of hell, which of course caused doubt and curiosity but you trusted him and you would trust him tell the bitter end. It had been almost 30 minutes and you couldn't wait for him to be home. The bed was growing cold, and with how quiet the loft had been it felt well.. creepy?

Having grown attached to Adam's well..loud Behavior, it didn't seem like you were in the right house at all. After about another thirty minutes, Adam barged through the front door of your loft, not trying to conceal his previous in the slightest; perking up at the sound of his heavy boots and the awfully loud door you shuffled out of bed the soft pink nighty that you wore trailing after you. "Sugartits? Where you at hun?" Adam called out half expecting you to be in the kitchen making lunch for him. You were trying your best to sneak up on him but the creaky floorboards gave you away, Adam quickly turned around the golden smile of his mask seeming to grow wider at how little you were wearing "oh darling~ you look so pretty like that~ did you already finish lunch hmm? " Adam asked as he grabbed your waist with one hand before successfully pulling you closer, this other hand pulled his mask off as he placed it onto the counter thoughtlessly.

"Uhm not yet.. I was just laying in bed.." You spoke softly as you quickly avoided eye contact half expecting him to yell. Adam shook his head "oh dear.. that won't work, it's a very simple thing to do hunny, all I ask is that you cook and clean surely it can't be that hard for you women to understand." Adam spoke down to you like you were dumb, like every word had to be spoken slowly just so that you could understand. It was condescending and degrading how he spoke to you... You nodded slowly "sorry adam.. I'm sorry for not having food ready and leaving the house a mess..". At this point you knew better than to argue with this well to put it kindly, man child. Adam had a smirk on his lips "good good, see? That wasn't so hard was it? Now how about you go get started on My food while I watch one of those stupid picture shows mk?" Adam spoke this time a little less of a bitchy tone; nodding slowly you walked into the kitchen getting started on his favorite ribs. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing this man would eat which wad really taking a toll on his health and his weight; with a sigh you plated up his food and brought it to him on the couch. Adam looked up from the comedy show he was watching and smirked "see it wasn't so hard was it?" Adam spoke before messily stuffing his face, in front of other people he would never eat like this but in his home he didn't give a shit if he made a mess, I mean that is his little S/O's responsibility. Adam handed you the plate before noticing the sheer fabric hanging over your chest and gave you a smirk "is that the nighty I bought you?" Adam said in a secuctive tone having finally noticed . With a small nod you set the plate down and crawled onto his lap knowing exactly what Adam was going to say, Adam raised a brow gripping the fat of your ass in a tight squeeze "you look beautiful but how about we just take it off mk? Cmon you know how much I love that body of yours~" Adam whispered into your ear seemingly trying to coax you into doing as he asked.

Adam's hands slowly trailed up your back leaving tingles across your body and shivers along your spine. Every touch brought the thin fabric over your body before Adam finally tugged it off of your body tossing it over the back of the couch. Adam's crotch was pressed against yours, already feeling him beginning to grow hard at the sight of you wearing nothing underneath.Squirming slightly at the feeling of Adam's eyes grazing over your body like he was starving, you began feeling up in his chest feeling over the soft fabric and down his sides slowly. Adam was letting you have this moment to feel up on him as he began pawing at your chest like if he didn't feel you up he would surely die (oops spoilers sorry sorry lmao).

Letting at soft moans at the feeling of his rough hands grazing over your nipples in just the right kind of way to give you a pleasure that wasn't all too overwhelming. Adam's other hand gripped onto your waist pushing you down a bit more forcing you to grind down on him, and god the soft groans and grumbles he let out when you rocked your hips drove you insane. Adam let go of your tit pushing his own shirt up slightly to reveal his happy trail before tugging at his pants and boxers just trying to get them down enough to spring up. Adam gave you a smirk before using his arms to push everything off of the table that was front of the couch and onto the floor pushing your back against the cold wood. Adam's hands immediately went to your thighs and spread your legs still sitting in his sitting position on the couch, before spitting onto your clit using 2 fingers to rub it in as lube. "Fucking damn... " Adam groaned out at the sight of your arousal and his saliva mixing, "I think you can take me yea? You can take the stretch won't you hmm?" Adam asked rhetorically knowing he was going to do it anyways. You nodded slowly spreading your legs a bit more for him, Adam finally stood in front of you spanking your clit lightly with the tip of his dick.

"cmon, ask me nicely, girl~ just the way I like~" Adam leaned down and whispered into your ear before pulling back and looking at you expectantly. You took a deep breathe " Please stretch me out with your cock adam.." you begged in a pitiful tone. Adam would have easily let that pass but that wasn't what he was looking for, " cmon girly~ you know that's not the name I was looking for~ try again mk?" Adam said frowning down at you now. "Please stretch me out with your cock.. master" you repeated praying this time it passed his expectations. Adam graced you with a cocky smirk at hearing the sinful and lewd words, as he slowly pushing his mushroom shaped tip into you he let out a small groan before the rest of his 8 almost 9 inch dick into you. You let out a small shrill scream as he had expected you to take it no problem.. the length may have proved to be a challenge but he was thick and he had just forced it into you. Adam wiped away tears you hadn't realized had fallen from your eyes, "oh girly, cmon we know you can take it~ it's your job after all~ to make sure I'm catered too, now I'm gonna start moving understood?" Adam asked as if he was even giving you a choice in the matter. Adam started thrusting into you slowly trying to get you to loosen up around him so he can wreck your guts (respectfully). The moment your gushy walls started to relax he sped up hitting right against your g-spot over and over, obviously knowing what he's doing. Adam smirked down at you as he pounded into you with no mercy. The only noises that filled the rooms was the sound of skin slapping against skin , your moans and the sound of Adam's wings ruffling and puffing up. With a gentle and desperate hand you reached up to grab at him needing something to ground you the closer you got, it felt like you were flying. Adam let out curses of pleasure as he rapidly approached his high. "Fuck fuck fuck! Your gripping me so tight princess so fucking tight!" Adam growled out between labored breathes. You were so close you were just babbling wordlessly to let him allow you to reach your high. Adam grabbed your hair slamming your head back down onto the table and pounding into your poor little hole harder using his other hand to reach down and rub your clit roughly "i want you to cum for me girly~ so fucking tight~" Adam groaned. At the order your body couldn't help but react your hips bucking up to meet him as you finally came all over his dick and thighs. Adam moved his hands to grip your waist for leverage, Adam's wings stretched out towards the ceiling as he came, his thrusts finally slowing down.. you were beyond exhausted.. but you knew that with Adam one round was never enough. And as if on que Adam tapped your cheek looking down at you with a smirk.

"Cmon girly time to wake up~"

Taglist: @miss-menhera @rinspiritwolf @spookysquids

[solar-wing]

⚣ Disobey 😠

⚣😠 A/N → i... don't ask. just..don't. I'm so ashamed. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | Rough Anal | Orgasm Denial | Controlling Behavior | Dom/Sub Vibes |

⚣😠 Summary → Conner has had enough of Y/N disobeying him.

⚣😠 Words → 1.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 😠

"a-ah, fuck ... ! Please let me cum!"

Conner pressed the young mage harder against the wall, laying another hard smack on his bottom while thrusting in and out of his quivering hole. He also held a tight grip on the boy's throbbing and red cock, squeezing at the base whenever he could tell the boy was about to cum.

The Kryptonian grunted in his ear while increasing the intensity of his thrusts, "Don't tell me what to do. I'm not ready for you to cum yet, got it? You're going to learn how to follow orders," He delivered an extra hard push with that sentence while squeezing down again on the poor boy's whimpering dick, pulling a needy whine from him.

Earlier that day, Batman briefed the team on a mission where they were to recover a powerful magical relic from some ancient ruins before a group of cultists found it and delivered it to their leader. When they arrived, the group split off into pairs to find the relic faster, Superboy ordered Y/N to come with him, even though some felt it'd be better if he and Zatanna went together.

Superboy instructed the young mage to stay close to him at all times and not wander off, sensing the place would have various booby traps. As they were looking through the ruins, Y/N got curious and wandered off to look at some interesting-looking markings on the walls, accidentally activating the magical defenses.

Thankfully, the spell to nullify it was simple enough. But it didn't make the Kryptonian any less angry with him.

Then, when they eventually ran into the cultists who had found the relic, Superboy instructed Y/N to run and grab help while he held them off. Of course, that wasn't the smartest idea since he was more vulnerable to magic attacks than the mage.

Y/N didn't listen though and had engaged the cultists himself, Superboy's anger doubling at the mage's disobedience. They were able to hold them off long enough for the rest of the team to show up and fight together.

Y/N managed to steal the relic back from the cult and the team successfully defeated them with only a few of the cultists getting away. Everyone congratulated the young mage for his quick thinking, but Superboy was still furious with him.

When they returned to the Cave, Conner roughly pulled the boy aside to his room before slamming and locking the door, proceeding to scold the young mage. The Kryptonian yelled at him for not listening to him and putting himself in danger, calling the boy reckless and irresponsible.

Y/N didn't take well to that and argued back, defending himself, turning it into a full-blown argument until the two were in each other's faces.

"You need to learn some fucking respect. You may be strong, but you're still new. I've been a part of this team from the start and have more experience than you, so you need to learn to listen to me." Conner growled, getting in the boy's face.

"I'm not a child! I can take care of myself, thank you very much. And last I checked, you aren't the leader of this team, Kaldur is, so back off. I don't have to listen to you and I don't need you to protect me." Y/N growled back, before shoving his way past the Kryptonian towards the door.

He didn't make it far though before Conner grabbed his arm and yanked him back, pinning him to the bed, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving, I don't need to deal with this right now," Y/N said, struggling against the Kryptonian's hold.

Conner growled in his ear, "You're not going anywhere. I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh, fuck you, Superboy." Y/N snapped, glaring daggers at the Kryptonian.

Conner glared back before suddenly crushing his lips against Y/N's, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Y/N struggled and fought against the Kryptonian's hold, but couldn't break free from his grip. Conner pulled away and smirked at the mage, "You're going to learn how to listen to me, whether you like it or not."

That's how Y/N found himself currently pinned against the wall, his ass in the air with the Kryptonian's cock thrusting into him.

Conner continued to slam his hips forward, making sure to graze over the young hero's prostate every time. The squelching of his wet cock, the loud slapping of their skin, and the grunting from both of them filled the room.

The young hero could only take the pounding, his legs were starting to feel like jelly and he was sure he would've fallen by now if the Kryptonian wasn't holding him up.

"please ... I’ll beg for it, do whatever you want for it ... please ... " Y/N cried out, tears starting to form in his eyes.

Conner smirked and leaned forward, "I'm not ready for you to cum just yet."

"Please! I've learned my lesson, I promise! I'll do anything, please just let me cum!" Y/N begged, his voice cracking.

"Anything, huh? I don't believe you" Conner said, his hips not faltering in their thrusts.

"Please, I promise! I'll do whatever you ask, I'll listen to your every command, I'll never go against your word, just please let me cum!" Y/N sobbed, his cock was so hard and red, he needed release.

"Fine, but you're going to cum untouched, and you're going to take all of my cum inside you, got it?" Conner growled in the boy's ear, releasing the boy's cock and placing both hands under his ass, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"I'm going to fill you up so much, you'll be leaking my cum for days. And if you ever disobey me again, I'll punish you even harder, understand?" Conner said, his tone stern and threatening., pressing their fronts together while burying his face into the smaller male's neck, his teeth scraping his skin.

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I promise to be good from now on!" Y/N moaned, feeling the Kryptonian's thrusts become more powerful and the heat inside him build.

"Fuck, you're such a good boy for me, aren't you? My perfect little boy," Conner praised, licking a stripe up the boy's neck, "I'm so close, I'm going to fill you up so much, gonna fill you to the brim..."

"Please, please, please..." Y/N pleaded, his breath ragged and short as his cock dripped pre-cum, he was so close.

Conner suddenly grabbed his cock, squeezing it again, pushing down the boy's release.

"AH a-ah, fuck ...no, please !" The boy cried out from the overstimulating pain, punching his fists against the Kryptonian's sweaty back.

Conner chuckled darkly, his hand moving to stroke the boy's throbbing cock, speeding up his thrusts, hitting his prostate dead-on every time.

"Cum for me, baby."

The young hero screamed out, his body spasming as his release finally hit him, his cock spurting thick white ropes of cum all over the Kryptonian's hand and abs. Conner grunted as he continued his relentless thrusting, his balls tightening as his release came crashing down.

With one final thrust, the Kryptonian buried his cock deep inside the boy, shooting thick loads of hot cum inside him.

The two boys panted heavily, their bodies glistening with sweat as they tried to catch their breaths. Conner leaned up, using one hand to tilt the boy's head up before placing a final rough kiss against his lips.

"Hopefully this teaches you a lesson. Don't ever disobey me again." Conner said, pulling his cock out, his cum leaking out of the boy's hole and down his thighs.

Y/N whimpered from the emptiness, slowly letting his legs down to the ground before they were roughly pulled back up.

"Where do you think you're going? We're not done here, not by a long shot. You're staying here and we're going to have some more fun," Conner growled in the boy's ear, pulling his cum-covered hand up to his lips, "Now clean my hand, you made quite a mess."

Y/N obeyed, his tongue running across the Kryptonian's hand, licking off all the cum.

"Good boy. Now, on your knees."

The young hero knew he was in for a long night.

☀️ | Conner Kent/Superboy | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

[scarlethexelove]

Can you please do a part 2 for we'll keep you safe. Maybe some nice domestic bliss. Maybe someone tries to ruin that.

Save You

Found on google

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2786

Warnings: Angst, Kidnapping, Pregnant reader, Mentions of Birth, Assault (On Reader), Torturish (Being strapped down), Murder (Well Deserved), some fluff.

Part 1 We'll Keep You Safe

A/N: This one was fun to write. I liked coming up with idea's and enjoyed writing this. So I hope that everyone likes it. Definitely some touchy things with Reader being hit but nothing too bad. Really please enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The sound of popping and sizzling can be heard as the bacon is being cooked on the stove. You're mindlessly watching it cook, checking if the bacon is ready to flip or not. Arms wrap around your waist lifting your swollen stomach lightly. You let out a moan of pleasure and relief. A body pressing against you and kissing your neck. “Mmm fuck.” You lean into the body behind you. “Feel good detka?” Natasha asks from behind you. “Yes” You breathe out. Natasha kissing your shoulder and neck gently. 

“She has been hanging pretty low and I feel like I’m ready to pop.” You sigh the soft moment between you and one of your wives. This is your second pregnancy and it has been a rough one. “You need to relax and get off your feet.” Natasha says trying to guide you away from the stove but you're stubborn. You need to flip the bacon so that is what you do. “I need to finish cooking breakfast.” 

Both of your attentions are pulled away when you hear the patter of three quick footsteps. You look down the hall seeing Wanda chasing after the twins. “Come here you little rascals.” Wanda says scooping Billy into her arms but not quite able to catch Tommy. Billy lets out a giggling squeal as Wanda kisses all over his face. You break out into a wide grin watching the adorable interaction. She notices you smiling, setting the boy down and wrangling them into the kitchen. 

“Sit down boys, breakfast will be done soon.” You lean down kissing both their heads as they wrap around your legs nudging Natasha back a bit. “Ok Momma.” The boys say in unison as they quickly scramble into their chairs. Wanda gently pecks your lips before ushering for you to sit down with the boys. “You relax, I'll finish here.” You try to stop her but Natasha picks you up making you let out a squeal. “Natty put me back down. I was almost done. I can finish it. I’m pregnant, not  broken.” You try to argue with your wifes but they have none of that. “Sit, relax, we have this.” Natasha tells you as she sets you down in your seat. You huff crossing your arms. “Fine.” You give them a small pout. Nat leans down kissing your pout and then your head as she moves to keep the twins entertained while Wanda finishes cooking. 

You smile fondly as you watch Nat playing with the twins. Thinking of how you got here. What your life was like before they saved you. Some time after they took you from your wife they set you down to explain everything. Turns out they were the Avengers. You thought maybe it was a coincidence but was surprised to find out. Your so-called ex-wife was their mission. Turns out she was an assassin just like Natasha. You were her cover. All of it was fake, well of course all of it but the beatings you got from the woman. They were tasked to bring her in to help take down the red room. But they had fallen for you and when they saw what she had done to you that day they weren’t going to let it go so easily. Your ex put up a good fight but she was no match for Wanda, ending in her being killed. 

And that is how you ended up here with the best life you could have imagined. Two beautiful wives, two beautiful boys, and a little girl on the way. Your wives had retired from being Avengers shortly after you gave birth to the boys. Wanting to be around for you and the kids. Your life is perfect. 

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you hear the doorbell ring. “I’ll get it.” You say as you use the table to help you lift yourself up. “Detka.” Wanda tries to warn you. “You are cooking and Nat is playing with the boys. I can open a door.” She relents, nodding her head to you. You make your way to the door, opening the door to find a woman standing there. “Hi, can I help you?” You ask the unfamiliar woman at the door. She says nothing as she quickly jabs a needle in your neck. Her hand clasping over your mouth to muffle any cries that would come out. The world around you starts to spin as your body feels heavy. Your vision fades black until your body drops. 

You feel groggy and your head is heavy as it hangs down. You blink your eyes open, lifting your head up. You try to move but your hands and feet are strapped to a table that has you upright. Your vision is blurry as you try to focus your eyes. Soon enough a man comes into focus. The man is taller than you, round face, gray hair, and glasses. He gives you a sinister grin as you focus on him. Your body is still feeling heavy. “Wh-who are you?” You mutter out. “Hmm I’m surprised my little widow didn’t tell you all about me.” The man chuckles. You rack your brain trying to figure out who he is. He watched you curiously to see if you could figure it out. But that is when it hits you. Natasha has told you about her life. Her life before the Avengers. “Dreykov.” You spit out his name like it is poison on her tongue. His grin just grew with approval. 

“So she does talk about me.” He says with a vote of arrogance. If you could, you would punch him in the throat. Beat him until he black and blue on the floor no longer breathing. But your restraints prevent you from even touching him. He can see the fire in your eyes and the desire to hurt him. He leans in close enough for you to smell his breath and feel it fan against your face. “I want what was taken from me and you're going to give it to me.” 

A wave of confusion washes over your face. He watches you with the smile never leaving his face. You think it over, does he want Natasha back? What can you do for him to do that? Will she come try and rescue you and sacrifice herself to save you. You have no clue what it could be. He gives you a little bit before speaking up again. “My precious widow left me. She had the perfect genetics to be the perfect widow. Highly skilled and one of the most efficient widows ever to go through the program.” He pauses scratching his chin. “But as an Avenger she won’t be so easily controlled anymore and I can’t risk the exposure. So I’ll settle for something, rather someone else.”  His eyes travel down to your stomach before looking back into your eyes. Your stomach turns at the realization. A wave of sickness overtakes you as you feel like you're going to throw up and you almost do. 

“Y-you can’t.” Tears start to well in your eyes. But the man doesn’t care, he is satisfied by your reaction. You don’t know how he knows that the baby is Natasha’s and that you're having a girl. Have they been watching you this whole time? Waiting for the right opportunity to strike. “I’m taking what I lost. She will be a part of a new age of widows. Enhanced, stronger and faster than ever.” He places his hand on your stomach and you fight against the restraints. “Get your fucking hands off of me you filthy disguesting pig.” You seeth. He slaps you across the face hard. The sting setting in as tears run down your cheeks. “My wives are going to find you and when they do they are going to gut you like the pig you are. You will never have my baby.” His actions are not stopping you. 

This time he lands a punch on your face. Your head whipping to the side. You look back at him smiling, blood running from the cut in your lips onto your teeth turning them a shade of red. “You think I can’t take a punch. Your other pathetic widow did it for you and hits harder than you. You weak pathetic man. Looks like you don’t even care that she is gone.” The man seethes at your words landing a few more punches. He stops your blood coating his knuckles as he takes out a white handkerchief. Gently wiping the blood off as he looks back up to you. “She was weak and deserved what she got.” 

You're not surprised by the man's words or reactions. Natasha said how short tempered the man was. You don’t know why you chose to talk back to him. Maybe in hopes that when Natasha and Wanda find you that they see you and kill him right on the spot. They have done it once for you and you hoped they would do it again. 

“Get comfortable, you're going to be here awhile.” He chuckles heading towards the door, knowing that in your position there is no way to get comfortable, only pain. “Hey fuck face. Your widow took me before I could eat some food and if you want my baby she needs food which means I need food.” You try to reason with him in some hopes of food. “Fine.” He waves his hand as he exits the room. Knowing that you are right as much as he would love to starve you to death instead. He then thinks maybe that will be what he does after you have given birth. 

A few minutes later a widow walks in a bowl in her hand. You can see the contents and they look like slop. Is this what Natasha had to always eat? Nasty slop that isn’t meant for human consumption. She walks closer to you not speaking words but holding up the spoon to your lips. You hesitantly take the lumpy food in your mouth. It is bland with a horrible texture but you need to eat something. You just hope your girls make it here quick.

Natasha and Wanda don’t take long to know you’re gone. They watch the camera’s to see that a woman has taken you and Natasha knows exactly who was behind it. She sees red. She is going to take him down once and for all. She won’t stop until all the widows are freed from under this tortuous man. 

They drop the kids off with Clint and Laura saying they will be back soon. “Mommy, Mama please don’t go.” Billy protests holding on tightly to Wanda. The boys don’t understand what is going on and where you are but if you're gone they don’t want them to leave either. “Mommy and Mama have to go save Momma.” Wanda kisses his head. “We will be back soon, I promise.” She tells the boys. Tommy is clinging to Natasha and she kisses his head. “Mommy and me love you very much and so does Momma. But some bad people took Momma and we need to go help her. Can you two be good for Uncle Clint and Aunt Laura for us. We promise to give you a big surprise when we get home with Momma.” Natasha explains. The boys nod their heads with tears in their eyes. Both women take turns giving each boy a hug and a kiss on the forehead before heading out. 

Natasha makes a few calls and enlist the help of her sister Yelena, her adopted mother and father Melina and Alexi. All of them vowing to take the red room down once and for all. Melina has the access to get them into the red room. So they use that to their advantage. 

You don’t know how long you have been locked up here. Your body aches painfully still strapped to the bed. A widow comes in periodically to feed you before leaving again. You tried to talk to them before but they stayed silent the whole time. You’re starting to lose hope that Wanda and Natasha are going to find you. Scared that Dreykov will get exactly what he wanted. To take your daughter and to form her into the most deadly widow of all time. Your cheeks are bruised and swollen as tears run down them. Your face is covered in dried crusty blood. They only bother to feed you and nothing else. You don’t want your daughter to grow up in this world and you know that neither of your wives would either, especially Natasha. 

Alarms blare as you hear explosions erupting from various points around the structure. There are more sounds of explosions, bullets, and movement of people on the other side of the door. You hear some fighting directly outside of your door. You don’t know if you should be excited or scared of what is to come. Soon the door slams open and a Blonde enters. She quickly shuts the door, holding a hand up to her ear. “I found her. East wing behind a large wooden door.” She then meets your eyes making fast movements towards you and she starts to undo your restraints. “Who are you?” You question the blonde as she undoes your ankles. “My name’s Yelena. Natasha is my sister and I’m here to help you.” She stands up undoing your wrist. “Nat has a sister.” You look at her a little hurt that you didn’t know. “Adopted sister, we were in the red room together.” She undoes your last restraint. Your legs giving out under you, Yelena quickly catches you in her arms and gently gets you to the ground. 

The door slams open and you see a frantic Natasha with Wanda behind her. Behind the both of them you see Dreykov wrapped in Wanda’s magic struggling to try and get free. But his attempts are futile. They both rush forward and see the condition you're in. Natasha takes you from Yelena and pulls you tightly into her arms. “I’m so sorry Y/n. I promised to keep you safe and I failed.” You can hear her sniffling as you bury your head in her neck. “You saved me.” Was all you could murmur out. 

 Wanda looks back at Dreykov, more red swirling in her eyes. Her magic wrapped up to his neck before snapping it. The sickening sound of the crack before her magic dissipates and his body slams to the ground making a thud. You jump a bit at the sound. But Natasha shushes you, rubbing your back. Soon Wanda is by your side as you start sobbing in relief. Wanda wrapping her arms around the both of you as you feel safe again in their arms. 

Your relief is cut short as sharp pain is felt in your stomach before you feel a gush of liquid between your legs. With the pain you were having all over you glossed over the repeating pain in your stomach. “Oh shit!” is all you hear from Nataha, the liquid also soaking into her lap. “What?” Wanda questions before Yelena cuts in. “Guys, we need to get a move on. This place is going down soon.”  But you ignore Yelena’s words. “I think my water just broke.” You say as another wave of pain hits you. “My water definitely broke” You groan gripping onto Natasha. “Oh shit!” You hear collectively from the three women. 

Natasha picks you up and carries you. Making your way out of the exploding base. Once you’re all outside you can see that you're up in the air and you're making your way towards a quinjet. Your contractions get closer together as you groan in pain. The women getting you and other women onto the ships to get everyone off safely. Melina and Alexi had freed the widows on the ship and were able to get the locations off the others around the world to release them from the red rooms' control. 

Once everyone is on the ships the Quinjet takes off. You’re not going to be able to make it safely back to your home or a hospital in time to have your baby. So with the help of Melina and Yelena you safely deliver your baby girl. Not without some yelling at your wives that they did this to you but they hold your hands and support you through all of it. Adding not just Liliya to the family but also Yelena, Melina, and Alexi. Your family grew larger than you expected it to today but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[milkmejae]

Brisbane '17— s.yj

sypnosis: year '17, after your parents’ bitter divorce, life feels like it’s falling apart. one night, on a rooftop, you're ready to end it all—not until a guy stops you. the encounter sparks an unexpected connection, though neither is ready to admit it.

genre: romance, angst, fluff, tragedy, comedy (?)

pairing: boy next door!s.jy x female!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of su!cide, death, profanity, physical attack (unintentional lol), familial problems, depression

playlist: call me back - chase atlantic, brisbane - youth in revolt, her - chase atlantic, bmf - SZA, love me not - ravyn lenae, kiss kiss - mgk, royalty - enhypen, ivy - frank ocean, august 10 - julie doiron, strangers - ethel cain

a/n: hi lovely reader, this is my first work and idek how to write lol. still gonna edit this but this fic is inspired by the song brisbane by youth in revolt and the aussie boy himself, i hope y'all will like this, mwa! please reblog if u want. not proofread

Year 2017— Brisbane, Australia

The suburban rooftops stretched out under the faint glow of the moon, rows of identical houses and overgrown lawns barely visible in the darkness. The night was cold, and the wind carried the petrichor from the rain, but you really didn’t care. It was eerily quiet, just like you wanted it to be. The edge felt so close—just one step, one moment of weightlessness, and then everything would finally stop. The whispers of your parents arguing still echoed in your mind, even though they already stopped and ended things months ago. Their divorce had been loud, messy, and final. All the abuse and hurting is done, but not on your part. You were still tormented in your own mind. They moved on with their separate lives while you were left stuck in the ruins of what used to be a family.

Your long, black locks whipped around your face as you took a drag from your cigarette. The warmth of the smoke wasn’t enough to chase away the chill in your chest. The metal railing pressed into your palms, the cold biting into your skin. You leaned forward slightly, eyes closing and letting the wind brush against like a silent invitation.

The night became your sanctuary. But tonight, it was meant to be your escape.

You leaned forward slightly, toes curling within the sneakers over the edge. You were on edge. The cold metal railing pressed against your palms as your breath hitched. It would be quick, you thought to yourself. It would be painless.

"You're not really going to do that, are you?"

The voice startled you, sharp and low, like a blade slicing through the silence. You spun around, your heart lurching within your aching chest, breath starting to get heavy.

He was standing in the shadow of a tree across your house, half-hidden in darkness. Moonlight seeping through the leaves, revealing his dark brown hair sitting messily over his forehead, hiding his sculpted appearance. Black hoodie hung loosely on his frame. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he tilted his head slightly, watching her.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, narrowing your eyes. Strings were pulled within him, producing a low chuckle that's somewhat utterly offensive on your part.

"Who even are you?"

"Someone who doesn't want to see a messy scene," he said, stepping into the faint light. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but there was something unsettlingly focused about his dark eyes. "It’s a long way down, you know."

"None of your business," you snapped on his words instantly, turning back toward the edge.

"Maybe not," he said, his tone almost lazy. "But I’d hate to see someone ruin a perfectly good night." You froze, gripping the railing tighter. "What do you want?"

The man took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "Just to chill, but you made a scene so it somehow ruined it." Oh, that's not very kind of him.

"Fuck off you dickhead, I'm already on the verge of making my brain scatter on the ground and you ruined it, god—"

"yeah yeah, you good?"

Did he just cut you off?

You were pushed to the edge, you might as well just blow your heads off, right? His voice was annoying, a second away from making your veins pop and destroying whatever's within you.

"Do I look like I'm good?”

“Nope, you look shit.” popping the ‘p’

“Why do you care?" Your voice wavered, betraying the anger you tried to cling to. He shrugged. "Why not? Doesn't cost me anything to care." You glared at him over his shoulder, chest tightening.

"Fuck off."

"Nope," he declined, popping the 'p' again, almost breaking his neck looking up, watching you a few feet away. His eyes stayed on you, unblinking. "But I can tell you’re not as cold as you want to seem." clearly annoying you to get something… typical.

You didn’t respond. "Let me guess," he continued, his voice softer now. "You think this is the only way to make it stop. The pain, the loneliness, all of it." The guy kinda get what you're feeling at the moment, hell, it even felt like he could see straight through the walls you spent years building around. It was disarming—how he spoke like he understood, like he’d been there too. His words weren’t pitying or condescending; they were raw, honest in a way that made your chest ache. But still, it feels like it's an act to go through you, can't really trust anyone these days.

You didn’t answer, but your grip on the cold metal railing became tighter than ever, as if it was not letting him the space to keep talking.

“You’re not the only one feeling this way,” he continued, his voice steady but somehow warm, like the kind of drug you didn’t know you needed until someone offered it. “And I’m not saying things will magically get better overnight. But jumping from a rooftop won’t fix anything. It’s a dumb way to go, you won't even die. It won’t make the pain go away.”

Plain stupid. You didn’t want to hear it. No. Not from some dude living across your house. But still, you couldn’t shake the way his voice felt like a lifeline—a thread you didn’t want to grab but felt reaching for anyway.

“I don’t know what it feels like to be you,” he added, stepping a little closer, his eyes not leaving mine. “But I know what it’s like to feel like everything’s too much. That you’re drowning,” His voice softened even more, almost gentle. “I won’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do know that there’s no point in doing something that takes everything from you. Not when there’s still a chance to find something else.”

You looked down at the ground, at him, heart heavy in your chest. The suburb lights flickered below the guy, a tiny, distant reminder of everything you were trying to do, plotting a cry to escape. Throat tightening, you felt a lump form from within that you couldn’t swallow down.

He took another step closer, his gaze still soft but unwavering. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

The words hit harder than you expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you—not in the way he did, with no judgment, just nothing.

"So just come down and—”

Shit.

His nose is on period.

You just wanted to shoo him away, not throw an empty pot on his face. Well, you told him to mind his business but he couldn’t. Deserved.

"Listen," he said, as if reading the thoughts in your mind, "Even if you broke my nose, I’m not leaving until you come down from here. And if you try to go back to that edge, I’ll be ready to call the cops on you. I know you probably think I’m just some random guy who doesn’t know a thing, but I don’t wanna be the person of interest if you die."

You inhaled shakily, your breath catching in your throat. It felt like you're teetering on the edge of something—something fragile that you didn’t want to fall into, but something you're so tired of fighting. The pain in your chest had been so constant, so overwhelming, that you almost convinced yourself it was the only thing you knew how to feel.

But this moment, with him standing there, with that soft but resolute look in his eyes, made it all feel a tad less heavy.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he added, his voice quieter now. “Not unless you do.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t want to go anywhere. You felt something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time— warmth.

—------

The school bell rang, slicing through the quiet of the early morning. You sat in your usual seat in the back of the classroom, eyes focused on the empty desk in front. It was hard to shake the feeling from last night—the quiet rooftop, his voice, the way his words had made the weight in my chest feel a little less suffocating.

But this was school. This was a place full of people you barely knew, and most of them you didn’t care to. You were fine with the distance, being nonexistent, keeping your head down, interactions as minimal as possible. It’s cooler that way.

You pulled out your notebook, hoping the comfort of your routine would ground you. But as you glanced around the room, your gaze landed on a figure near the door.

With all of its glory, it was the guy.

"Yo! Jake!"

It was loud and playful, carrying a teasing energy that you couldn’t ignore. You turned, just for a second, then glanced at the source of the sound. A guy appeared, tall with messy washed-brown hair and an easy grin plastered across his face. His energy seemed to fill the hallway as he walked up to the guy, clapping him on the back with enough force that the guy nearly stumbled from his seat, but quickly recovered.

Jake...

The name was already lodged in your mind, familiar in a way you didn’t want it to be. And yet, it was impossible to ignore the small ripple of something—something you couldn’t name—that had started when you first heard it. It wasn’t much, just the passing mention of a name. But the way it rolled off his friend's tongue, with that playful teasing and the easy affection, made you realize just how little you knew about the boy who had stopped you on the rooftop.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark brown hair tousled as always, a crooked smile playing on his lips. He was wearing the school uniform, but it looked effortlessly cool on him, like he hadn’t even tried. You had to admit, the guy’s drop dead gorgeous. And, for the briefest moment, I could’ve sworn he was looking straight at me.

"What’s up, man?" the other guy said with a boisterous laugh. "You’ve been ghosting us again!"

Jake raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "You’re one to talk, Hee," he muttered, pushing his friend away in mock irritation. "I’ve just been busy."

His friend didn’t let up. "Yeah, yeah," he said with exaggerated drama, throwing an arm around Jake’s neck and pulling him into a friendly headlock. "Where have you been, huh? Got yourself a girlfriend or something?"

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t fight it. "Doubt it," he replied coolly, pulling away from his friend’s hold and straightening his shirt. "Just keeping busy."

The guy wasn’t finished. He glanced over at you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes as he waved a hand in your direction. "Yo, what’s up?" he said loudly, flashing a grin. "You two know each other?"

“oh, fuck.” You cursed under your breath.

Jake stiffened, his body language changing ever so slightly, but it was enough for you to notice. His gaze flickered briefly over to you, but he said nothing. It wasn’t the surprise or curiosity you’d expect from someone who had just met you—it was almost as if he recognized you, but wasn’t quite willing to acknowledge it. You turned your head quickly, pretending not to care, but there was a faint flutter in your chest that you didn’t quite understand.

His friend seemed to take it as an invitation to tease more. "Don’t tell me, Jake," he continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "you’ve got some secret going on here?"

Jake, still with that same calm expression, didn’t flinch at his friend’s words. His gaze remained fixed on the blonde guy, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to entertain the question. "Can you just go away?" Jake muttered, pushing his friend away with a little more force this time.

The guy, unfazed by Jake’s disinterest, just shrugged, still smirking. "Alright, alright. Don’t get all grumpy, man." He turned to leave but threw one last playful look your way. "But hey, don’t be a stranger, okay?" he called out, his voice light and teasing.

You stood there, unsure of what to make of it all. The interaction between the two of them had felt so effortless, like this kind of back-and-forth was second nature for them. It made you feel like you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to be a part of. And yet, there you were, caught in the middle of it.

Jake watched his friend walk off, but for a moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze. His eyes flickered to you again, but this time, there was a subtle shift—a brief, almost imperceptible glance that lasted a little too long to be accidental. He dragged his seat towards you to be closer, obviously.

It was strange. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach—a warmth, a flicker of something that shouldn’t have been there. But Jake quickly broke the moment, pulling his phone out again and looking down at the screen, his casual indifference back in place.

"His name’s Heeseung," Jake said, as if he were speaking to himself more than to you. "Just in case you were wondering."

You didn’t know why, but the name seemed to settle somewhere deep inside you. It echoed in your mind long after Jake had finished speaking. "Heeseung." You repeated it under your breath, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was the least significant thing in the world, but for some reason, it felt like you’d just learned something important.

Jake, however, didn’t seem to care. He didn’t acknowledge you any further, nor did he make any effort to start a conversation. He stood there, his back to the lockers, his eyes glued to his phone. He wasn’t interested in talking to you, at least not outwardly. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you. That subtle shift in his gaze, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. It was like he was ignoring you, but also, not really.

And as you walked away, the feeling that had started to settle in your chest—something between curiosity and discomfort—lingered. You didn’t know what it meant, and you didn’t want to know. But it was there, and no matter how much you tried to push it aside, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze had felt.

—------

The final bell echoed through the hallways, a collective sigh of relief spreading as students spilled out of classrooms, ready to escape for the day. You, as usual, lingered behind. There was no rush. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for you at home, and you preferred the silence of an empty hallway to the chaotic noise outside.

You were zipping your bag when a shadow filled the doorway. Jake stood there, leaning casually against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. His dark brown hair fell over his forehead, messy yet annoyingly perfect. He had that infuriating smirk plastered on his face—the kind that screamed trouble without him having to say a word.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone flat as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Good question,” he said, stepping inside with an air of nonchalance. He shut the door behind him, the sound making you stiffen. “I was thinking… you look like someone who could use a change of scenery.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And you look like someone who’s wasting my time.”

He ignored your jab, taking a few steps closer. “Come on,” he said, his voice light, teasing. “You can’t be always hiding and feeling like shit forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “And I don’t need a pep talk from you.” Jake tilted his head, studying you for a moment. The way his gaze lingered made you shift uncomfortably. Then, with a sudden movement, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Let go,” you snapped, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“No.”

“Yes”

“Fuck no.”

“Not happening,” he said, his smirk widening as he started pulling you toward the door.

You dug your heels into the floor, glaring at him. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you,” he replied breezily. “Don’t worry, i’ll send you home before dinner.” The man winked at you, utterly disgusting.

“Jake, I swear—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, glancing back at you. “You’re too uptight. This’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” you said coldly, but he didn’t seem to care. He dragged you outside, ignoring your protests. By the time you reached the parking lot, you were fuming. That’s when you saw it—a beat-up, ancient bike leaning against the fence.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, staring at the contraption. Jake grinned, clearly amused. “What? It’s a classic.”

“It’s a trap,” you said, your tone dripping with disdain. He swung a leg over the seat, ignoring your comment. “Get on.”

“No,” you replied bluntly.

“Alright,” he said with a shrug, grabbing your bag and tossing it into the rusty basket on the front. “Guess I’ll take this instead.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jake, don’t—”

But he was already pedaling away, the sound of his laughter carried by the wind.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, running after him.

By the time you caught up, you were at the entrance to the beach. The salty breeze hit you first, followed by the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. You didn’t even knew that there was a place like this in the shitty place you’re in. Jake was leaning casually against his bike, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing to the ocean like he owned it. You snatched your bag from the basket, glaring at him. “What’s the point of this?”

“The point,” he said, stepping closer, “is that you’ve been walking around like the world owes you something. Thought I’d remind you it doesn’t.”

You stared at him, anger bubbling under your skin. “You’re cringe.” snarling at the boy, smirking at you gracefully.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter. “But I know this is better than you staring at a ceiling alone all day.” Before you could respond, another voice called out from the dunes.

“Jakey!”

You turned to see a guy approaching, with a tall and lean frame, skin white as snow. His hair blonde, not a speck of darkness, as if it was freshly bleached, he looks blinding.

“That’s Sunghoon” Jake said, barely sparing him a glance. “Ignore him.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes as he reached you, giving Jake a playful shove. “Dude, I was just passing by and.... who is this fine young woman?”

Jake didn’t answer, his focus returning to you. Sunghoon looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he gave you a quick nod.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Jake muttered, grabbing your wrist again. “I’m not even talking?” Sunghoon was confused at the remark his friend dropped. Yeah, he wasn’t even talking? “Go home, Hoon.” Jake replied, annoyed by the sight of his friend.

“Yeah going home now, was just passing by but got busted instead” Sunghoon fake cried, gripping his chest dramatically whilst walking towards the road away from the sea.

“Come on.” You allowed him to lead you down to the shore, ignoring his friend. The sand cool beneath your feet. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and calm. Jake didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence annoyingly steady.

The salty breeze swept through the air, pulling strands of your hair into your face as Jake led you down to the shoreline. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and restless, its waves crashing rhythmically against the sand. It was nearing sunset, the sky streaked with fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold, casting everything in a warm, dreamlike glow.

You turned to Jake, raising an eyebrow. "Your friends are weird." Jake shrugged, his lips curling into an unapologetic grin. "You’re one to talk."

“Jokes on you, don’t have one.” You crossed your arms, already regretting letting him drag you here. "Alright, we’re here. Now what? Am I supposed to have some kind of life-altering epiphany while staring at the ocean?"

"That would be ideal," Jake said, crouching down to pick up a rock. He turned it over in his hand before tossing it toward the water, the stone skipping three times before disappearing beneath the surface. "But I’d settle for you cracking a smile."

You snorted. "Don’t hold your breath."

Jake straightened and turned to face you, his grin softening into something quieter, almost thoughtful. "You can’t tell me this doesn’t feel a little better than sitting in your room, doing… whatever it is you do all day."

“Being dead is waaaaaay better that whatever this is, I wanna-” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about the sound of the waves, the cool breeze on your skin, and the way the fading sunlight painted the world in soft, golden hues.

Jake noticed your hesitation and his grin returned, this time more triumphant. "See? I knew it. You’re just too stubborn to admit I’m right."

"Don’t get used to it," you muttered, brushing past him toward the water.

The sand was cool beneath your feet, damp and firm where the waves lapped at the shore. You stared out at the horizon, the sky now bleeding into shades of lavender and indigo. It felt strangely calming, like the ocean was swallowing up all the noise in your head. Jake came to stand beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if gauging your mood.

"You ever skip rocks?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"No, why would i?"

He bent down and picked up a flat stone, holding it out to you. "Here. Try it."

You stared at the rock like it might bite you. "Why?"

"Because," he said, his tone teasing, "I don’t think you’ve ever done anything remotely fun in your life."

You shot him a glare but took the rock anyway. It was smoother than you expected, cool and oddly comforting against your palm. Jake stepped back, giving you space as he gestured toward the water.

"Flick your wrist," he said. "Like this." He mimed the motion, his movements fluid and easy.

You tried to imitate him, throwing the rock with as much precision as you could muster. It plunked unceremoniously into the waves, sinking without even a single skip.

Jake burst out laughing, the sound loud and unapologetic.

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That was… something."

"Don’t," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

"What? I’m just saying, for someone who acts like they’re above everything, you’re surprisingly bad at this."

You grabbed another rock, determined to wipe that smug grin off his face. After a few failed attempts—and Jake’s insufferable commentary each time—you finally managed a single skip.

"There you go!" he said, clapping his hands. "Knew you had it in you."

"Shut up," you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you stayed there for a while, tossing rocks and exchanging sarcastic remarks. The sun dipped lower and lower, painting the beach in shades of amber and crimson. Jake eventually flopped down onto the sand, leaning back on his elbows as he stared up at the darkening sky.

You hesitated before sitting a few feet away, pulling your knees to your chest. The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, comfortable and unpressured.

"You’re quiet," Jake said after a while, his voice softer than before.

"I don’t like talking," you replied bluntly.

"Yeah, I noticed." He glanced at you, a hint of amusement in his expression. "But you’re still here."

“Aight, I’ll go first.” You tried to stand, not sure how to respond. The man grabbed your wrist immediately, forcing you to stay.

“NOOOOOO,” he shouted in disdain. “I was just playing with you, you’re too dense.”

Jake smiled faintly, tilting his head back to look at the stars beginning to peek through the darkened sky. "You know," he said, his tone thoughtful, "sometimes it’s nice to just… be like this. No expectations, no pressure. Just this."

For once, you didn’t have a retort. The ocean stretched out endlessly before you, vast and calming, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you.

Jake glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. "See? Told you it’s not so bad."

"Don’t push your luck," you muttered, but there was no bite in your words. The two of you stayed there until the sky turned deep blue, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds overhead. Jake stood first, brushing sand off his jeans before holding a hand out to you.

"Come on," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "Let’s head back before it gets too late."

You stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, his grip warm and firm as he helped you to your feet. As you walked back toward the bike, the sound of the waves fading behind you, you couldn’t help but feel… lighter. For a little while, the weight you carried wasn’t so heavy.

—------

The days after fell into an unspoken pattern, a natural ebb and flow that neither of you acknowledged outright but couldn’t seem to break. Jake had a way of weaving himself into your days effortlessly, his presence becoming as routine as the ringing of the school bell.

It started with the small things. You’d find him waiting for you after class, leaning against the wall with that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. At first, you’d scoff, brushing past him with a curt, “Don’t you have someone else to bother?” But he’d fall into step beside you, completely unbothered by your cold tone.

“Maybe,” he’d reply, hands shoved into his pockets. “But you’re way more fun.”

You didn’t notice how often it started happening until it became something you looked forward to. Even when you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care, the way your heart picked up speed every time you saw him leaning casually against the lockers told a different story.

In the mornings, he’d spot you walking through the school gates and fall in step beside you without a word. By lunch, he’d somehow worm his way into sitting across from you, a tray of food in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he’d say one afternoon, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you, “you’re a lot more tolerable when you’re not glaring at me.”

“I wanna make you bite the curb.”

“It’s true, you look pretty if you're not glaring at me.”

You scoffed, stabbing at your salad with unnecessary aggression. “And you’re marginally less annoying when you’re not talking.”

“Marginally,” he repeated, grinning. “I’ll take it.”

What surprised you most was how natural it felt. Jake had a way of breaking down your walls without you realizing it, slipping through the cracks with his easy charm and disarming humor. He didn’t push too hard; he didn’t need to. His persistence was quiet, steady, and strangely comforting.

Before long, your walks home became routine. He’d wait for you outside the school gates, kicking at the gravel as if he’d been there for hours. Sometimes, you’d walk in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional distant bark of a dog. Other times, he’d talk about anything and everything—his dreams of traveling, funny stories about his childhood, or even the ridiculous antics of his friends Heeseung and Sunghoon.

“You should meet them sometime,” he said once, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “They’d love you.”

“I wouldn't.” You snorted.

“No, really,” he insisted. “You’d fit right in. They’ve got thick skin, so your whole ‘I don’t care about anyone’ vibe wouldn’t scare them off.”

“I doubt that.” smiling ever so slightly which made Jake’s heart skip a beat.

“No way.”

“What?”

“You fucking smiled, bro you-” The guy is now shouting, freaking out from what he had just witnessed. “YOU SHOULD SMILE OFTEN!” Jake is twitching at this point, in his perspective, you look like an angel sent from above.

Your lips twitched, but you quickly suppressed the smile threatening to break free. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

Despite your attempts to keep him at arm’s length, you found yourself relaxing around him more and more. The biting remarks softened into playful banter, and the silences between you felt less like walls and more like bridges.

But with the growing closeness came something else—something neither of you were willing to name. It was in the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you weren’t looking, the way his teasing tone softened whenever you let your guard down. It was in the way your heart skipped a beat every time he brushed past you, his shoulder bumping yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

One evening, as you walked home together, the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. Jake was unusually quiet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Nothing,” he said quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. The air between you felt heavier than usual, charged with something unspoken.

The days blurred into weeks, and soon it wasn’t just the afternoons you spent together. Jake began showing up early in the mornings, offering to walk you to school. He’d lean against the gate, his dark brown hair catching the light in a way that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know, I don’t need an escort,” you told him one morning, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Who said anything about needing?” he shot back, falling into step beside you. “I just like the company.”

You didn’t respond, but a small part of you—the part that you kept buried deep down—was grateful for him.

In school, you noticed how his attention shifted. Jake was popular, with friends who seemed to orbit around him like planets around the sun. But his focus was always on you. Even when he was surrounded by laughter and chatter, his eyes would search for yours.

It scared you, the way he saw through your defenses. You’d spent so long building walls, convinced that no one could—or should—get close. But Jake… Jake didn’t knock them down. He climbed over them, slowly and deliberately, until you weren’t sure where the barriers ended and where he began.

You both felt it—that quiet, undeniable pull. But neither of you dared to say it out loud. Instead, you let it linger in the space between you, in the stolen glances and fleeting touches. Because saying it would make it real, and real meant vulnerable.

And neither of you were ready for that.

—------

The house felt hollow when you walked in, the walls devoid of life. The echoes of the past lingered in the corners, faint but persistent. Your mom sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped tightly around a steaming cup of coffee. The weary look in her eyes was enough to tell you something was wrong.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice a quiet plea. You hesitated, the knot in your stomach tightening as you pulled out a chair. She didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she stared at the surface of the table, as if the woodgrain patterns held answers.

“We’re leaving,” she finally said, her voice breaking through the silence.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her correctly. “Leaving?”

“Yes,” she said, exhaling heavily. “I… I decided it’s best if we move overseas. Start fresh without your dad.” The weight of her words hit you like a tidal wave. “Overseas?” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “You mean I have to leave everything—everything I know—behind?”

Her lips trembled as she nodded. “This is what’s best for us, sweetheart. I also got a job there, it’s been so hard here, and we need to move forward.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening. Moving forward? How could she say that so easily? Your mind immediately went to Jake—the boy who had pulled you back from the edge, the boy who had made you feel like life was worth living again. The idea of leaving him felt unbearable.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave.”

“I know this is hard,” she said, reaching out as if to comfort you, but you pulled away. “You’ll understand one day.”

You didn’t tell her about Jake. You didn’t tell her about the nights on the beach or the way his quiet persistence had chipped away at your walls. Instead, you stormed up to your room, slamming the door behind you. The weight of it all crashed down on you, and for the first time in months, the tears wouldn’t stop.

And then, just like that, you were gone. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say goodbye.

—------

Jake noticed your absences immediately. At first, he thought it was just one of your off days—you had those sometimes, disappearing for a day or two before returning with your usual cold demeanor. But as the days turned into weeks, the gnawing worry in his chest grew.

By the end of the week, he couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered your homeroom teacher after class. “Hey, uh… the girl who sits in the back. She hasn’t been here for a while. Is she okay?”

The teacher looked at him with surprise, then a flicker of pity. “Oh, she and her mom moved overseas. It was very sudden.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Overseas?” he repeated, the word foreign and sharp in his mouth.

“Yes Mr. Sim, overseas.”

Jake walked out of the classroom in a daze, the world around him blurring. You were gone. Just like that. No goodbye, no explanation. The thought of it left a hollow ache in his chest.

That night, he sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. The silence of his room felt oppressive, and the weight of everything he hadn’t said to you pressed down on him. Without thinking, he picked up a pen and began to write.

From that night on, Jake wrote to you. Each letter was a reflection of the longing that grew with every passing day, a way to keep you close even though you were gone.

Jake kept writing, even as life moved on around him. Heeseung and Sunghoon would tease him about how distracted he seemed, but they didn’t press too hard—they knew he was holding onto something he couldn’t let go of.

—------

Year ‘25— Brisbane, Australia

The streets of your old neighborhood were both familiar and foreign as you walked through them. The years had changed you, healed parts of you that had once felt irreparably broken. But as you approached the park where you used to spend your afternoons, the ache of the past resurfaced.

You saw him then—Heeseung. He was standing by the swings, holding the hand of a little girl while another child played nearby. His laughter carried through the air, warm and joyful.

Your steps faltered, but you found your voice. “Heeseung?”

He turned, his eyes widening in recognition. “You’re back,” he said, a bittersweet smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Where’s Jake?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

His smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful look that made your stomach drop.

—------

Year ‘23— Brisbane, Australia

One rainy evening, Jake was driving home from work, his hands gripping the steering wheel loosely as the rhythm of the rain on the windshield filled the silence of the car. The world outside was a blur of gray and water, the headlights of passing cars distorted like smudges on a wet canvas. The weather had been relentless all day, the kind of storm that soaked through your clothes in seconds and turned streets into glistening hazards.

He had been thinking about you again. Not that he ever truly stopped. You were always there, in the back of his mind, a quiet ache that he had learned to live with. Jake often wondered where you were now, what kind of life you were building in a place he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he imagined you smiling, truly smiling—something he hadn’t seen often when you were here. The thought brought him comfort, even as it twisted his heart.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat, but he didn’t reach for it. He knew better than to let his attention waver in this weather. The rain had turned the roads into slick ribbons of danger, and visibility was poor, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the downpour. Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought about what he might say to you if you were here now.

Maybe something stupid, he mused. Something to make you roll your eyes the way you always did, though he’d catch the ghost of a smile on your lips if he looked close enough. He could almost hear your voice, the sharp edges of your words softened by the warmth you tried so hard to hide.

As he approached the intersection, the light turned yellow. Jake slowed, his foot easing off the gas pedal. The rain made the world feel heavier, the weight of the water pressing down on everything, muting the usual chaos of the city.

And then it happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a set of headlights barreling toward him, far too fast, far too close. There was no time to react, no time to process. The car tore through the red light, and in an instant, the world exploded into chaos.

The sound was deafening: metal crunching against metal, glass shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, tires screeching against the wet pavement. The force of the impact sent Jake’s car spinning, the world outside becoming a disorienting blur of rain and darkness.

When the car finally came to a halt, Jake was slumped against the seat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The airbag had deployed, the acrid smell of burnt chemicals filling the small space. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting, but it wasn’t the physical agony that consumed him.

It was the thought of you.

His vision blurred, whether from the rain streaking down the cracked windshield or the tears pooling in his eyes, he couldn’t tell. His mind was racing, desperate and frantic. He had always imagined that, someday, he’d see you again. That he’d get the chance to tell you everything he’d never said. How you had changed his life, how you had become the one thing he clung to when the world felt like it was falling apart.

The rain pounded against the car, drowning out the distant wail of sirens. Jake’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one more labored than the last. He could feel his body growing heavier, the edges of his consciousness fraying like an old threadbare cloth.

But even as the pain surged through him, his thoughts remained anchored to you. He pictured your face, the way your eyes would narrow when you were annoyed, the rare but breathtaking smile that would light up your features when you thought no one was looking. He wondered if you’d ever think of him, if you’d remember the boy who had once pulled you back from the edge.

“I hope… you’re happy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. His fingers twitched, reaching for something unseen. “I hope… you’re okay.”

The sirens grew louder, closer, but Jake’s focus was elsewhere. In his mind, he was back on the beach with you, the two of you sitting under the dying light of the sun, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. It was a memory he clung to, a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that had become his sanctuary.

As the darkness closed in, Jake allowed himself one final thought, one final hope. Maybe, somehow, you’d feel it—the depth of what he had never been able to say. Maybe you’d know.

And then, with the rain still falling and the world slipping further and further away, Jake’s hand fell limp against the seat. The sirens arrived too late, the light in his eyes fading as his final breath escaped into the storm.

Even in the end, his heart had been yours.

—------

The world tilted, and you felt your knees threaten to give out. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Heeseung’s voice wavered as he continued, “He never stopped thinking about you. Even after all those years… he kept writing.”

He gave out the stack of letters. They were worn and faded, but the sight of Jake’s familiar handwriting made your chest ache.

You sat on the park bench, the letters trembling in your hands. Opening the first one, tears blurred your vision as Jake’s words came alive once more.

Heeseung sat beside you, his presence quiet and comforting. “He loved you,” he said. “Even when you weren’t here, he loved you.”

Jake's Unsent Letters

August 10, 2017

Hey,

I don’t know where you are or if you’ll ever read this, but I wanted to tell you—I miss you. School isn’t the same without you. No one rolls their eyes at my jokes anymore.

Jake.

September 5, 2017

Today, I went to the beach. It felt empty without you there. I kept looking at the waves, hoping you’d show up out of nowhere and tell me I’m an idiot.

I’m sorry.

December 24, 2017

Merry Christmas. I wish you were here.

I wish you were here with me too.

March 13, 2018

I saw someone today who looked like you. My heart jumped, and I felt stupid when I realized it wasn’t. I hope you’re okay.

“Dumbass.” you muttered under your breath, tears flowing on your face.

May 21, 2019

It’s been almost two years. I still think about you. A lot. Do you even remember me?

How will I even forget you?

June 10, 2020

I told Heeseung and Sunghoon about the letters. They said I should send them, but I don’t even know where to send them.

I’m sorry, Jake.

November 2, 2022

I’m starting to feel like you were a dream, like I made you up. But then I remember your laugh, and it feels real again.

Jake..

March 12, 2023

I’ll never stop missing you, everything about you is good, what we had felt good.

God, please take me back to Brisbane ‘17.

[etz-ashashiyot]

So what’s the modern interpretation of the laws about keeping slaves? I’ve heard that said laws where a lot more kind to slaves then the surrounding nations but, like, it’s still slavery?

Hi anon,

With Pesach coming up, I'm sure that this question is on a lot of people's minds. It's a good question and many rabbanim throughout history have attempted to tackle it. Especially today, with slavery being seen as a moral anathema in most societies (obviously this despite the fact that unfortunately slavery is still a very real human rights crisis all over the world), addressing the parts of the Torah that on the surface seem to condone it becomes a moral imperative.

It's worth noting that the Jewish world overall condemns slavery. In my research for this question, I came across zero modern sources arguing that slavery is totally fine. I'm sure that if you dug deep enough there's some fringe wacko somewhere arguing this, but every group has its batshit fringe.

Here are some sources across the political and religious observance spectrum that explain it better than I could:

Chabad (this article is written by Rabbi Tzvi Freeman, a wonderful rabbi whose words I have learned deeply over the years. He is one of my favorite rabbis despite not seeing eye to eye with a lot of the Chabad movement)

Conservative (to be clear: this is my movement; it's not actually politically conservative in most shuls, just poorly named. We desperately need to bully them into calling themselves Masorti Olami like the rest of the world. It's [essentially] a liberal traditional egalitarian movement.)

Conservative pt. 2 (different rabbi's take)

Reform (note that this is from the Haberman Institute, which was founded by a Reform rabbi. Link is to a YouTube recording of a recent lecture on the topic.)

Chareidi (this rabbi is an official rabbi of the Western Wall in Israel, so in a word, very frum)

Modern Orthodox

I want to highlight this last one, because it is written by the Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Chovevei, which is a progressive Modern Orthodox rabbinical school. They work very hard to read Torah through an authentically Orthodox lens while also maintaining deeply humanist values. As someone who walks a similar (if not identical) balancing act, this particular drash (sermon) spoke very deeply to me, and so I'm reposting it in its entirety**

[Edit: tumblr.hell seems real intent on not letting me do this in my original answer, so I will repost it in the reblogs. Please reblog that version if you're going to. Thanks!]

Something you will probably notice as you work your way through these sources, you'll note that there are substantially more traditional leaning responses. This is because of a major divide in how the different movements view Torah, especially as it pertains to changing ethics over time and modernity. I'm oversimplifying for space, but the differences are as follows:

The liberal movements (Reform, Renewal, Reconstructionist, etc.) view halacha as non-binding and the Torah as a human document that is, nevertheless, a sacred document. I've seen it described as the spiritual diary of our people throughout history. Others view it as divinely inspired, but still essentially and indelibly human.

The Orthodox and other traditional movements view halacha as binding and Torah as the direct word of G-d given to the Jewish people through Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses) on Mt. Sinai. (Or, at a minimum, as a divinely inspired text written and compiled by people that still represents the word of G-d. This latter view is mostly limited to the Conservative and Modern Orthodox movements.)

Because of these differences, the liberal movements are able to address most of these problematic passages by situating them in their proper historical context. It is only the Orthodox and traditional movements that must fully reckon with the texts as they are, and seek to understand how they speak to us in a contemporary context.

As for me? I'm part of a narrow band of traditional egalitarian progressive Jews that really ride that line between viewing halacha as binding and the Torah as divinely given, despite recognizing the human component of its authorship - more a partnership in its creation than either fully human invention or divine fiat. That said, I am personally less interested in who wrote it literally speaking and much more interested in the question of: How can we read Torah using the divinely given process of traditional Torah scholarship while applying deeply humanist values?

Yeshivat Chovevei does a really excellent job of approaching Torah scholarship this way, as does Hadar. Therefore, I'm not surprised that this article captures something I have struggled to articulate: an authentically orthodox argument for change.

[navybrat817]

Steve + 9. "Don't even think about getting out of the car."

Oh, Eva. 🫠

Direct Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve doesn't like that you ignored his direct order.

Word Count: Almost 900

Warnings: Arguing, slight angst, stubbornness, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another overprotective prompt ficlet. Thanks, Eva! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The night air was cool and refreshing as you rolled the window down, but it went back up before you could appreciate the breeze against your skin. You shot Steve a glare who didn't acknowledge you as he drove. You didn't like uncomfortable silence, but you didn't attempt to fill the time with small talk. Not since he decided to rip you a new one in front of the team an hour ago.

You just wanted to go home.

“You have nothing to say?” Steve asked, his voice low. “Must be killing you to go this long without talking.”

You fought the urge to kick the dashboard since the car didn't do anything to you and smacking him could cause an accident. “And it must be killing you that I didn't fall in line today like a perfect little soldier,” you said with a sardonic smile. “Or would you prefer I act like a doll?”

“You ignored my direct order,” he growled as he gripped the steering wheel. For a moment you thought he’d bend or rip it away. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You sneered before facing forward. “Jesus Christ, give it a rest. You berated me enough on the quinjet and I don't need to hear it again.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough for you to see the anger brewing. “Damn right I berated you because you never listen to me.”

The tension thickened. You didn't typically argue with Steve. You went against him once and now he was saying you never listened to him? Where the hell did he get off?

“Don’t you dare lecture me about not listening to you when you’re the one who never listens to anyone,” you argued, feeling a hint of satisfaction when he clenched his jaw. “And I made the right call. I stand by that.”

The mission was a success because of your decision.

“You don't make the calls. That isn't your job,” he snapped, the tires squealing as he made a rough turn. “You could've been hurt or worse. Don't you get that?! You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“But I wasn't hurt! And me being stubborn? Pot meet fucking kettle, Rogers!”

“Captain,” he said through his perfect teeth.

“Captain,” you scoffed, your blood boiling. “You are not my Captain right now. You're just some guy who wormed his way into driving me home after running his mouth.”

You shrieked when he slammed on the brakes, bracing yourself on the dash when he ran a hand through his blonde hair and bitterly chuckled. It was a foreign sound coming from him. One that made you shut your mouth. “Some guy? Now I’m just some guy?”

Concern flickered across your face. Yeah, you were mad, but you didn't have to push. “Steve. I mean, Captain, I-”

“I’m not just some guy and I’m not just your Captain,” he cut you off, stopping you when you reached for the door handle. “Don't even think about getting out of the car. We’re not done yet.”

“Why should I stay? So you can snap at me some more?” You mumbled. “Would you treat Bucky or Sam or anyone else like this?”

It wasn't fair to try and make him feel bad. He was your leader for a reason and he gave you an order. You didn't follow it. He had every right to be pissed off. By all means he had the right to bench you, too.

But why was he taking it personally?

All the anger fell from Steve’s face as he leaned across the seat more. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened, too. “Why are you sorry?”

“For snapping the way I did,” he said with a shake of his head. “You just scared me today. I get scared every time you go into the field, but that was the first time you…”

“Didn’t listen,” you finished for him, your heart pounding when you realized just how close he was. If he leaned in any closer, his lips would be against yours.

“And you are right. I have a hard time listening to others myself,” he said, smiling when you snorted. “But I don't give you orders for you to act like a perfect soldier or doll. Just like I don't give Bucky or Sam or anyone else orders just to have things done my way. I do it to keep you as safe as possible. It would break my heart if something happened to you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes went wide. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” You asked, your stomach doing a funny flip.

He chuckled, the sound much warmer than before. “So, you do listen.”

“Most of the time,” you teased, staring into his eyes. You could see how much he cared. No wonder he took this mission to heart.

“Arguing aside, you did well,” he praised, which sent heat to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’ll forgive you for ignoring my orders if you let me walk you to your door.”

“And I'll forgive you for snapping at me in front of the team if you come inside and have a drink,” you countered.

You didn't expect him to move his mouth to your ear. “I’ll only come inside if you say ‘please’,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. “And that's a direct order.”

Yes, sir. ❤️‍🔥 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You get sidetracked on your way home.

Character: Andy Barber

Day Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the car broke down and the snow is getting deep 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It's getting bad," Andy shifts in the passenger seat, as usual, stating the obvious.  

"Yeah, just gotta be careful," you grip the wheel, leaning into it as you try to see through the falling powder. "I've driven through worse." 

"Maybe, but it's not letting up," he sits up, concerned after his cat nap. "Might be a good idea to look for a hotel or something. Even just somewhere we can pull off until it dies down." 

"It's really not that much," you argue. You just want to get home. Just a few more hours and you get to enjoy your holidays. 

"Look, I know you wanna get back for Christmas but--" 

"Shit!" You exclaim as headlights flash through the white flakes and veer away from you with a honk as you twist the wheel to avoid the other car. 

You slam on the breaks as you steer into a heaping bank, sending up puffs of snow all around you. Andy grunts as he reaches over to flip on the hazards. You catch your breath as he sighs. You hate that sound. 

"What were you saying?" He mutters. 

"That guy was in the wrong lane," you argue. "I can't help that." 

"Yeah, but if you can't see them, they can't see you." 

You keep from countering. He always has to be right. Besides, he's your boss, he's supposed to be right. It just irks you how he talks to you like a child. You're almost the same damn age as him. 

"Let me drive," he insists. 

"Andy," you shift into reverse and check the back window, "can you check your phone? See if there's anything close by." 

Your defeat is in your voice. He is right. The snows getting worse by the second. You'll be lucky to get as far as a hotel. 

"Shit," he mutters as he sits back and looks at his phone, "no signal." 

He raises it, angling it around with a tut. You chew your cheeks in agitation. That means you can't even call James to let him know you'll be late. 

"I think I saw a sign back a ways..." you drone uncertainly, once more clamping down on the wheel. "Let me know if you see anything." 

You right the nose of the car, the tires rolling without traction before finally catching. That's not good either. Of course, the snow had to wait. It had to dump in that moment, when you're finally at the end of this stupid work trip. 

You head back down the highway, tense as you feel the tenuous grip of the tires. You’re not sure you’re going to get very far. You don’t. After a sluggish advance, the car swerves as snow builds up in the tire wells and clog the axle. Once more, you barely keep control as you steer back towards the snow-buried apron. 

You roll into the window high drifts and push both feet onto the brake. You hang your head forward and groan. Andy’s hand grips the corner of your seat, his other on the dashboard. You lean back and shake your heads. 

“Well, Happy Holidays,” you huff. “Should we get out and walk.” 

“You think we’ll get far?” He asks, though you can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or not. 

“What else can we do?” You wonder with exasperation. 

“Got an emerge kit in the trunk. Seats fold down.” 

You blink at him. He can’t mean that. 

“Just until it stops. It’s only building and even if we don’t want to, there’s not much choice.” 

“We can call for help,” you suggest. 

“Even if someone could get to us, I don’t have any bars. What about you?” 

You shift into park and take out your phone. A circle with a bar. Nothing. 

“Can’t keep this on forever either. The battery will die. There’s a thermal blanket, a couple of hand warmers, food...” 

“Jesus, how long are we going to be stuck here?” You look at him. 

For the first time in all the years you’ve worked with him, Andy looks uncertain. That adds to your anxiety. He frowns and slides his hand off the seat onto your shoulder. 

“Look, it’s fine. It should be more than tonight. Snow’s supposed to let up after dusk, then we just need to wait for the plows. They usually start up at 3. Before traffic gets heavy.” He assures. 

You nod. For once, you’re happy to have a know-it-all with you. 

“Alright, so, turn off the engine.” 

You do what he says and he reaches for his door. He pushes it open and the wind blows back his hair and dusts snow into the SUV. He goes to the back of the car, disappearing into the white void. You watch nervously, trying to see through the thick flakes. 

The hatch opens and you undo your seat belt so you can crane around. “What are you doing?” 

“Gotta make sure we’re visible. I’ll hang one of the emergency vests on the back.” 

“Oh, right, can I help?” You wonder. 

“If you can get the seats down, we’re going to have to keep as much warmth as we can. Lever’s underneath,” he hollers through the wind. His cheeks are already touched pink by the snowy blast. He pulls out a neon yellow vest and closes the back up. 

You get out of the seat and pull the switch on the side to fold it forward. You climb over it and feel around the front of the backseat. You get those down as the side door opens. And climbs up, crunching himself down to fit in the tight space. 

You operate silently in unison. He gets the blankets out. Two. He suggests one for underneath and the second over you. He has bottles of water, some cold rations, and little packets that heat up for about 15 minutes when you rub them. 

As you sit on the thermal blanket he feels the front of his jacket, “damn it,” you can see the moisture around his shoulders. 

He strips it off and shivers in his dress shirt. His hair is damp too, curling at the ends. He looks at you, his blue eyes bolder as the world is white outside the windows. 

“Uh, we gotta...” 

“Yeah, sure,” you grab the blanket and pull it close. He moves next to you. There isn’t quite enough space to stretch out. You’re scrunched up as your arms touch and you lean on the slight incline of the folded seat. 

“Gonna be a long night,” he mutters. 

“Not exactly the white Christmas I hoped for,” you agree. 

You don’t complain much more. You have someone to get home to eventually. Since the divorce, Andy is rarely eager to leave work. It’s exactly the reason you’re trapped on the side of the highway. The work trip was his reason not to be alone. You feel bad for him, even if he is an ass of a boss. 

❄️ 

Your teeth chatter as you hug yourself under the blanket. Andy’s heat burns at your back but can’t warm you as the wind whistles outside the car. He turns on the car for about ten minutes at a time but hasn’t in at least two hours as the coldness sets in. It’s better to conserve the heat under the blanket. 

His arm is around you, his chin in your shoulder, resting against yours. It’s an innately intimate position, intertwined, snug, but you’re not thinking about that. You’re just thinking about the miracle of modern heating. You just need to make it through tonight. 

He shifts and shivers against you. You put your hand on his to try to warm him. You don’t feel you’re offering much as he radiates with heat. 

He sighs. God, his damn sighs. The sound that make your office days longer. 

You close your eyes but can’t sleep. You’re too anxious to settle down. Your eyes burn with fatigue but your adrenaline keeps you unsettled. 

The silence is as frigid as the weather. Both of you stopped talking a while ago. There’s nothing left to say but the obvious. You can’t wait to be out of there. You try to relax, the tension aching in your neck. 

He shifts and his hand slips from under yours. You move too, searching for comfort. His fingers rustle down your shirt and touch the front of your pants. The awkward brush makes you squirm. He drags his hand back up and presses against the bottom of your shirt. 

You go rigid again. His fingertips trace the waistband of your wool trousers. Your eyes snap open. 

He dips beneath the fabric and you suck in a stunned breath. You flinch as he tickles along your panties. You cough. 

“Andy, what--” 

He hushes you, “it’s cold...” 

Does he know what he’s doing? Maybe he’s just trying to go up your shirt but that’s not better, is it? His cheek presses against your skull as he pulls you flush to him. He delves beneath your underwear and you gasp again. 

“Andy--” 

“No one will know,” he grits. 

“No, Andy,” you grab his forearm. “You can’t-- I know you’ve been going through a lot but no--” 

His other arm snakes up from under your waist and his hand stretches across your throat. You gulp and let out another surprised squeak. He squeezes as you reach to snatch at his grip. 

“And...” 

He chokes the protest from you as he grazes along your pelvis. You wince and as he rocks his hips against you. He purrs. “Mmm, nice and tidy... like you were expecting this.” 

Your skin blazes in humiliation. You spent a little extra time trimming. You missed James terribly and his texts betrayed that the feeling was mutual. 

You croak but can’t speak. He fingertips press behind your jaw until the pain waters in your eyes. He jams his hand between your thighs. He curls against your cunt and glides between your folds. Another spark of humiliation scalds you. It’s been weeks since you had the time of energy to spend with James. You and your husband are just too busy. You’re all too responsive to the rare touch. 

The fear constricts across your ribs as your heart pound, echoing in your temples. You squeeze his wrist which only inspires him to tighten his hold on your throat. Your eyes gloss over with helplessness. You can't stop him. Not in that moment and even if you could speak, there’s no one to hear you scream for help. 

He bends his fingers until they sink past your entrance. He has no patience. He buries himself to his lowest knuckle, gripping tight so the heel of his hand is against your clit. The pressure pulses into your core. 

He tilts his hand, forming a slow rhythm that feeds a different kind of heat. The kind that burns your soul. You flick your lashes as your walls clench him and you twitch. No, no. 

Your breath picks up. You think of your husband, waiting, worried, and you’re there... he can’t ever know. Even if it’s wrong. Even if you don’t want it. 

“I’ve been so lonely,” he rasps against the brim of your ear. “I just... need to touch someone.” His desperation trembles in his voice. “You’re so warm and soft.... and wet.” 

You hear your cunt clinging to him as he rocks his hand faster and faster. The swirl of nerves flurries to a spiral. The coil twists tighter and tighter. You arch your back, pushing your ass back unthinkingly against his crotch. 

He moves in response. Rubbing his hard bulge against you. His own breath hitches as he writhes in tandem with his hand. His palm claps against you as he fucks you harder and harder, pumping himself against your ass. 

You let go of him to bite your finger. You cum in a spasm, your tears overflowing in more than shame. It’s a sense of relief, the release of the tension built of neglect and stress. He puffs furiously as he ruts against you, shaking as his voice gurgles and his rhythm turns spasmodic. 

He growls and grunts until he falls out of motion. He stills and goes slack, his hand trapped beneath your thighs as he heaves. He purrs and nuzzles your ear. 

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” he grits. 

[thetriumphantpanda]

get down on your knees and tell me you love me | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Six

Chapter Summary | There is something about Javier Peña that makes you bold, makes you want to prove to him that you're a woman, not the girl he used to know, and how better to prove in than getting down on your knees for him?

Chapter Warnings | A pretty tame one, all things considered. Public-ish oral sex (M), Javi talking you through sucking him off, inexperienced reader, cum eating, no use of y/n and some advancement of the plot.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3K

Authors Note | LET ME TELL YOU. THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY MIND SINCE THE CONCEPTION OF THE FIC. I hope you love it just as much as I do and that you're still enjoying the sprinkling of plot that comes along with it. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

Thank you to the incredible @perotovar for letting me use her beautiful gif for this chapter!

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

It’s Friday night and the bar is busy. You and Liv were lucky to get a table. It’s loud, full of patrons trying shouting orders at the bar, the smell of fried food wafting through the air, as well as the sound of disagreements at the jukebox over what song someone will play next, but its your happy place, always has been, especially when you’ve got a birds eye view straight across to Javier Peña, sat sipping beer with your dad.

“Are you going to look at me at all tonight?” Liv asks, mouth full of the fries she’d ordered for you both.

“Sorry,” You mumble, dragging your eyes away from Javi, who seems to be having a similarly hard time tearing his from you, “What were you saying?”

“I was trying to tell you,” She starts, picking up another fry to stuff into her mouth, “That I remembered something about that party.”

“What party?” You ask, picking up your own fry, biting half of it off into your mouth, dipping the other half into the pile of ketchup on the side of the plate.

“You remember calling me from work earlier in the week?” She asks, “The party at the house that got busted?” She smiles when there’s a flicker of recognition on your face, “Well, I remember that it was Vanessa that invited us, so,” She picks up another fry, “You’ll be so proud of me for this, I did some digging,” She looks pleased as punch, which makes you chuckle, “I spoke to her, and she said it was Tyler who hosted the party.”

“Tyler?” You ask, “As in, Tyler Johnson?”

“The one and only.”

You pick up another fry, the pile dwindling in front of you slowly. Tyler Johnson. Oldest son of Richard Johnson. Long-standing mayor of Laredo. His family had been in power in town for as long as anyone could remember. Tyler, raised to follow in his father’s footsteps had faltered, opting, much to the chagrin of his family, to choose to say no to college. As far as you knew, he didn’t really see much of his family, worked at the local manufacturing company and spent most of his free time hanging around outside of bars trying to chat women up. His younger brother, Garrett, having taken up the banner, currently deep into his bid to become the youngest mayor Laredo had ever seen.

“Why the hell was he doing hosting a party in an abandoned house?”

“I don’t know,” Liv shrugs, taking the last fry off the plate, “That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”

Unable to argue with her logic, you shrug, “You think he’s the kinda guy to get involved in that kind of shit?”

It’s confusing to you, because although he’s the perfect candidate for it, estranged family, always in the shadow of his younger brother, anytime you’d come across him, he’d seemed pretty straight-laced to you. Sure, he’d been drunk a few times, but never seemed like the kind of guy to take drugs, let alone be hoarding it in a house he didn’t even own. But then, Dylan hadn’t seemed to be the guy to take enough drugs to die of an overdose, so you suppose anything could be true in this case.

“The deadbeat son, disappointment to his family, who has never amounted to anything?” Liv chuckles, “Yeah, seems the type to me.”

Something doesn’t particularly seem to settle right about this for you, but that’s for next week. You shake your head a little, letting your eyes drift back over Liv’s shoulder to where Javi is sitting, looking straight back at you. When you meet his eyes, he throws a wink your way.

“What on earth are you staring at?!” Liv squeals, turning around to follow your eye line, finding Javi right there, “Oh.”

She turns back around to you, and you had wanted to try and keep it at least a little cool, but the wink he’s given you, paired with the smirk on his mouth, as heat flushing across your face, your bottom lip sucked between your bottom teeth, and your eyes on the grain of the table under your arms.

“Girl!” Liv reaches over, slapping your arm gently, “Have you fucked him?!”

“No!” You exclaimed, “Keep your voice down for crying out loud.”

“You’ve done something though, haven’t you?” She prods, smirk on her face, “I’m right aren’t I?”

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but smile, looking up at her as sheepishly as possible. Javi’s words ring in your ears, probably best we don’t tell anyone about this, but technically if she guesses, you haven’t told anyone.

“Shut up.” Is all you say, but there’s heat flushing all over you and a smile you can’t hide on your mouth.

“You lucky bitch!” She’s smiling so wide, squeezing at your arm, “Is he any good?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, shaking your head, “I don’t kiss and tell,” You sigh, chin resting on your palm as you look over the bar at him, currently locked in conversation with your dad about something, he looks so fucking good in his plaid shirt, arms rolled up to his elbows, “God, he’s so good looking, wish I could have five minutes with him.” You muse out loud.

Your eyes flit back to Liv, who has a devilish look on her face, “Say no more,” She smirks, “You want another beer? Perhaps you need the bathroom?”

You twig almost immediately, as she stands up, chair scraping, pulling the attention of people around who are looking at what the noise was. Shooting your eyes over to Javi, you note that your dad has already figured the noise was nothing, he’s gone back to talking to the side of Javi’s face that’s given to him, as he looks directly at you. You tilt your head toward the door, give him a smile and start walking towards it, as Liv makes a beeline to the bar.

You’ve not made it halfway down the hall when you feel a hand circling your wrist. Turning to the side, Javi is there at your side.

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He speaks softly, but even you know that there are too many eyes here.

You make it to the end of the hallway, faced with a choice, you push on the handle for the single disabled stall, finding it open, you pull Javi into it, closing the door, enjoying the ‘snick’ of the lock closing too.

“Now you can.” You smile, pressing your back up against the door.

Javi is pressed against you in no time, palms warm on your cheeks as he leans down, mouth slanting over yours, soft and warm, pulling away from you before you have the chance to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and deepen it by opening your mouth against his.

You’ve got a corner of your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, eyes looking up at him through lashes as his hand rests on your waist, “Javi?”

“Hmm?” He muses, eyes trailing up and down your front, stalling slightly where your shirt reveals your cleavage, before his brown orbs meet your own eyes.

“I think I want to suck your cock.”

His face is a picture you wish you could keep forever, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, shock written over every inch of him. His hand on your waist grips tightly, like he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

“Baby,” He coos, “We don’t have time.”

“You underestimate Liv’s ability to talk to my dad about utter nonsense.”

“What happened to keeping a secret?” He asks, eyebrow cocked, “Thought you were a good girl.”

“Technically I didn’t tell her,” You shrug, hands trailing up his chest to rest on his shoulders, “She guessed.”

“You really want to suck my cock in a bar bathroom?” He asks, leaning forward a little, his mouth just centimetres from your own, “Definitely not the good girl you make out to be, are you?”

“I just want to return the favour.” You shrug, memory flashing to earlier this week when he had you pinned against a brick wall with his hands down your trousers.

“Okay baby,” He relents, stepping back a little to turn you both, his back now against the door, “But we have to be quick.”

His palms press gently into your shoulders, watching with darkened eyes as you sink to your knees in front of him. Your hands rest on his belt as anxiety spreads through your stomach. Javi notices your pause, his hands holding onto your own at his waistband, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” He insists.

You shake your head, “No, I want to,” You respond, “I’ve just-” You trail off, lip back between your teeth, “Never done this before.”

Javi sucks in a deep breath, looking down at you at you. He cups your cheek, thumb rubbing across the skin underneath it, “God damn it baby,” He sighs, almost pained, “You can’t say stuff like that and then look at me with those eyes.”

It’s performative but you flutter your eyelashes at him, a small smile across your mouth, “Will you teach me?”

He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, but then his hands are moving to his belt, undoing it in front of your face. You can already see that he’s half-hard behind his jeans. Javi undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, and then motions with his head for you to do the rest.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, you shuffle back a little, pull them down his thighs. You can’t help but gasp when you pull them down enough to fry his cock, watching it bounce slightly in your face. He’s big. Almost like he can sense your trepidation, Javi is reaching down, squeezing your wrists in comfort.

“It’s okay, cariño,” He coos, “We’ll take it easy this time.”

He drags his hand down to grip at one of your hands, moving it to get you to grip onto the base of his cock with your fist.

“Move your hand up and down a little first,” He instructs, moving your hand with his own, “Just like that.”

Then he’s taking his hand away, letting you handle this on your own. You look up at him from your knees, smiling a little to yourself when he tips his head back slightly against the door, hips bucking gently into the movement of your hand.

Almost like he remembers he’s meant to be teaching you what to do, Javi looks down at you, his hand trailing to rest at the back of your head, “Open your mouth,” He says softly, batting your hand away from his cock, gripping it himself to guide it towards your open mouth, “Use your tongue a little,” He instructs, “Just on the tip for now.”

His voice is low and gravelly, which makes your pussy clench a little. You shift on your knees, trying to get some friction to relieve the ache you’re feeling, as you do as he says, using your tongue to lave attention to the tip of his cock, swirling it around but also stopping every now and again to give small kitten licks to the tip, preening to yourself when he lets out a low groan.

“Think you can take more, cariño?” Javi groans, hand clutching your chin so you’re looking at him, “Just wrap your lips around me and take me in as far as you can.”

You do as you’re told, sealing your lips around the head of his cock, flattening your tongue along the underside of him, before moving your mouth down as far as you can before he’s brushing against the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” He praises, “Good girl.”

The praise makes you swoon as you move your lips back to the tip and then back down again, looking up at him through your lashes, finding his head tipped back against the door, his chest heaving with heavy breathes, his mouth open, with a whispered ‘fuck’ breathed out as you move your mouth up and down a little faster.

“You’re doing so good for me,” His tone is heavy, lust-filled, and just like before, the praise goes right to your cunt, “Use your hand on the bit your mouth doesn’t reach.”

So you do, circle your hand around the base of his cock, pumping your hand up as your mouth moves down. Javi is more vocal, his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding your head to the movements he likes.

“So fucking good,” He breathes out above you, bucking his hips into you as you move down his length, ��Gonna make me come, querida,” He warns, which only makes you double the efforts of your mouth on him, “Where do you want it?”

You pull of him now, still pumping his length with your hand as you look up at him through your lashes, “Where do you want it?” You ask, innocent as the day you were born.

“I don’t think you want what I want.” He says simply, breath panting as he thrusts into your palm.

“Try me, Peña.”

“Jesus, girl,” He chuckles a little, “Where’s that innocent, little thing gone?”

“I think I left her in an alley somewhere in town.”

He sucks in a breath, baring his teeth a little as he works as hard as he can to keep it together, towering above you.

“You want me to come in your mouth, huh?” The hand on the back of your head is now cradling your cheek, “That what you want?”

Instead of answering, all you do is stick your tongue out for him, guiding him back to rest on your tongue. You don’t do anything else though, just look up at him, waiting for him to give you what you want.

He does exactly what you want him to. Taking himself in his fist, he moves his hand up and down his length, furiously tugging himself until he’s moaning, head thrown back, with his cum aimed right onto your tongue, giving you every last drop. He looks down at you, pulling himself from your mouth. It’s a taste you’re not used to, musky, masculine and you’re sure distinctly Javi, but it’s not necessarily unpleasant, so you close your mouth and swallow everything he gave you whilst looking him dead in the eye.

You’re both breathing heavily, looking at each other until you start giggling, which sets Javi off chuckling as he helps you from the floor once he’s put himself right.

“Did you really leave your friend to entertain your dad so you could suck my dick in a public bathroom?” He asks, palm on the small of your back pressing you into his front, leaning down so his lips are close enough to your lips that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

“I think I did, yeah.” You chuckle breathlessly, letting him press his mouth to yours.

“Think you better go back in there and save her,” He says against your mouth, “But call me later, and I’ll help you with this.” His hand dragging down your front to cup your pussy through your shorts, where he knows you’ll be soaked.

“I’m counting on it.”

You don’t really think about leaving at different times until you spot Liv sitting in Javi’s old stool, talking to your dad.

“Well, there they are!” His voice booms when you get close enough to the table, “Where the hell have you been?”

Sucking your friends cock in the bathroom, dad. Is what you think.

“Oh, I was just asking Javi about something for work.” Is what you actually say.

“Well, it was lovely to catch up!” Liv says to your dad, slipping off the stool for Javi to sit back on, “But we’ve got very important girl gossip to catch up on.

Then she’s dragging you away, back to your table, where you spend the rest of the night talking, eyes drifting over to Javi, his own meeting yours when he can.

Yeah. You’re fucked.

Monday afternoon comes in a flurry, your boss poking her head from around her office door, catching your attention as she motions for you to come in and meet her. You swallow, a little nervous, because the piece you promised her would be done, is now blown wide open with the addition of Tyler Johnson hosting a party in a drug den. Picking up your notepad and pen, you resign yourself to a telling off for being slow as you settle into one of the chairs in her office.

“How’s the piece coming along?” She asks, making you swallow a little.

“Well,” You start, deciding to be honest, “It’s done with the information we have.”

“But?” She says, lifting an eyebrow up.

“I think there might be more to it,” You shrug, “I’ve been making some enquiries and I think I might be able to go deeper with it, if you’ll let me.”

She thinks for a moment, “Is this going deeper going to be illegal or dangerous?”

“No?” You ask, because right now it’s neither, but who knows how far the string you’re pulling might unravel.

“Then I say go for it,” She smiles a little, “I know you’ve been wanting something more challenging here, and if you think there’s something worth digging at then dig at it, but promise me if it takes a turn, you tell me?”

“I promise.”

“Well then, reporter, go get your story.”