#kind of? in my head it ends up that way this is just the night the tension finally snaps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mmso-notlikethat · 3 days ago

Note

for a fic prompt, what about primary school teacher tommy and single dad buck meet-cute 🥺🫶

you probably forgot about this, but just so you know Alex started here 😶‍🌫️ Also uh it got to more than just a meet-cute

“Dad, we’re gonna be late!” Alex exclaimed, his small hands tugging at the blanket Buck had pulled over his head. His six-year-old energy was relentless as he hopped on the bed, shaking his dad's shoulder.

Buck groaned dramatically, burrowing further into the covers. “Five more minutes, buddy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he rolled onto his stomach. “Late for what? School doesn’t even start until next week”

“It starts today!” Alex huffed, climbing onto Buck’s back. “You promised you’d wake up early so I wouldn’t be late! My teacher’s gonna think I’m the kid with the lazy dad!”

That got Buck’s attention. He peeked out from under the blanket, grinning. “Lazy, huh? You’re pretty brave, calling me names when I’m this close to tickling you.”

Alex gasped, trying to back away, but Buck was too fast. With a playful growl, he lunged, wrapping his arms around Alex and tackling him onto the bed. “You think you can just insult me and get away with it?”

“Dad! Nooo!” Alex shrieked between bursts of laughter as Buck’s fingers attacked his sides. “I’m serious! We really are gonna be late!”

Buck finally let him go, sitting up and ruffling Alex’s bedhead. “Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you to school before your teacher thinks your dad’s a total slacker”

Alex hopped off the bed, already halfway to the kitchen. “You better not make me late, Dad!” he called over his shoulder.

Buck knew mornings were a battlefield, but nothing prepared him for the chaos of getting his son, to his new school on time. He prepared almost everything the night before—laid out clothes, packed the lunch, even double-checked Alex’s backpack—but somehow, chaos still found a way. Between trying to locate Alex’s missing sneaker (it had somehow ended up in the fridge) and making sure the snack he packed met the “no nuts, no sugar” rule, Buck was already sweating before 8 a.m.

“See? Right on time,” Buck said triumphantly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Alex, however, was already halfway out of his seat. “Barely,” he muttered, clutching a slightly crumpled drawing of a fire truck—his pride and joy—ready to show off on his first day.

“Hey, cut your old man some slack,” Buck called after him, grabbing Alex’s backpack from the passenger seat and jogging to catch up as his son bolted toward the school entrance.

The chaos didn’t stop at the school gate. As Buck jogged to catch up with Alex, the coffee cup in his hand wobbled dangerously. He didn’t even notice the man walking out of the classroom until it was too late.

Hot coffee sloshed out of the cup as Buck collided with someone tall and solid, soaking the other man’s neatly pressed shirt.

“Oh, crap—sorry, sorry, sorry!” Buck blurted, immediately trying to dab at the man’s chest with the sleeve of his own hoodie.

The man held up a hand, smiling despite the situation. “It’s okay! I’ve survived worse—though maybe not before 9 a.m.”

Buck stopped mid-dab, his apology dying on his lips as he looked up into bright blue eyes. The guy was gorgeous. Clean-cut, tall, and with the kind of easy smile that could probably calm a room full of screaming kids.

“I—uh—sorry again,” Buck stammered. “First day at a new school, and we’re already making enemies.”

The man chuckled, glancing down at his shirt. “It’s just coffee. Nothing a spare shirt won’t fix.” He held out a hand. “I’m Tommy Kinard, the first-grade teacher.”

Buck blinked, taking his hand. “Oh. Wow. Great. Yeah—uh—I’m Buck— Buckley. Uh—Evan... Buckley. Alex’s dad.” he said, pointing over his shoulder toward Alex.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Buck’s flustered demeanor. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley. Alex seems to be settling in just fine—he’s already making friends.”

Buck glanced at Alex, who was already chatting animatedly with another kid across the room. “Well, at least one of us is thriving.”

Tommy smiled. “You’re doing fine. First days are always an adventure. Just maybe avoid coffee collisions next time,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to their still-clasped hands before meeting Buck’s gaze again.

Buck suddenly realized he was still gripping Tommy’s hand and quickly released it, his ears burning. “Oh! Uh, sorry about that.”

Tommy’s smile widened, clearly amused.

“Fair point—about the coffee! And, uh, if you ever need someone to return the favor and spill coffee on your enemies, I’m your guy,” Buck added, trying to recover.

Tommy tilted his head, his nose scrunching with his smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Tommy turned back toward the classroom, Buck exhaled shakily, his breath hitching as he muttered to himself, Oh boy.

II.

Buck had barely recovered from the coffee incident when he found himself nervously adjusting his shirt in the mirror for Parent-Teacher Night. It wasn’t like him to care this much about his appearance, but something about Tommy—Mr. Kinard, he corrected himself—had stuck with him.

As Buck stepped into the brightly decorated classroom, he immediately spotted Tommy. He was standing by a bulletin board covered in colorful artwork, smiling as he spoke to another parent. Buck’s stomach did a weird little flip.

“Mr. Buckley,” Tommy greeted warmly as he finished up his conversation and approached. “Good to see you again. No coffee this time?”

Buck chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not today. Figured I’d avoid the risk.”

Tommy smiled. “Smart choice. Alex has been settling in really well, by the way. He’s a great kid.”

“Thanks,” Buck said, his chest swelling with pride. “He loves it here—and he won’t stop talking about you, by the way. ‘Mr. Kinard is so cool. Mr. Kinard can draw fire trucks better than me.’”

Tommy laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve impressed him. Though I think his fire truck skills might outshine mine soon.”

As they chatted, Buck shifted nervously, trying to look relaxed. But in his fidgeting, he bumped into a small table holding a stack of construction paper and art supplies, sending them toppling to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Oh, no,” Buck groaned, crouching down immediately to try and fix the mess. “Sorry—sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Tommy crouched down beside him, biting back a smile as his shoulder brushed against Buck’s. “It’s fine, really. Happens all the time. These tables are magnets for chaos.”

Buck glanced up, meeting Tommy’s amused gaze, his face flushing. “I swear I’m usually more coordinated.”

Tommy chuckled, handing him a pile of papers. “You’re doing fine, Mr. Buckley. Though I might have to ban you from coffee and art supplies.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they stood. They chatted for a few more minutes after that, Buck feeling more at ease with every word. By the time the evening ended, Buck was walking out of the school with a smile he couldn’t quite shake—and a lingering warmth from the way Tommy’s shoulder had felt against his.

III.

A week later, Buck was rushing back to the school, Alex’s forgotten math worksheet clutched in his hand. He burst into the office, breathless and slightly disheveled, his shirt untucked on one side and his hair sticking up in a way that suggested he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

Tommy was already there, sitting behind the counter with a mug of tea. He looked up, and his smile widened when he saw Buck.

“Mr. Buckley,” Tommy said, his voice tinged with laughter. “In a hurry?”

Buck groaned, straightening his shirt with one hand while clutching the worksheet in the other. Of course it’s you who’ll see me like this, he muttered under his breath, low enough that he thought Tommy wouldn’t hear.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What was that?”

Buck flushed. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just… Alex forgot his homework,” he said, holding up the crumpled paper as evidence. “I had a long shift last night—barely managed to get him to school on time this morning—and I was about to crash when I noticed the homework on the counter and—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “—you don’t want to hear that. Sorry.”

Tommy stood, taking the worksheet from him. “Actually, I don’t mind,” he said, his voice calm and genuine. “It’s not every day I get to hear about someone pulling off the superhero double shift—saving lives and making sure forgotten homework gets to school. Alex has a pretty awesome dad.”

Buck let out a breathless laugh, his face heating up. “I don’t know about awesome… but thanks.”

Tommy smiled, his tone light as he added, “Seriously, you’re doing great. Alex talks about you all the time—it’s obvious how much he looks up to you. I’ll make sure he gets this.”

The compliment caught Buck off guard, and he found himself stumbling over his words. “Oh, I—I just try not to screw up too much.”

“You’re doing fine,” Tommy said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Though I have to say, Mr. Buckley, you do have a knack for keeping things interesting.”

Buck blinked, momentarily speechless. Then, with a slightly awkward chuckle, he added, “You can just call me Evan, by the way. ‘Mr. Buckley’ makes me feel old.”

Tommy’s eyes twinkled. “Evan it is.”

As Buck left the school, still red-faced and brushing his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, he couldn’t help but smile. Despite the chaos of the morning, there was a lingering warmth in his chest—and a growing determination to get to know Tommy better.

IV.

When the school’s fall fair rolled around, Buck found himself roped into volunteering after Alex came home with a flyer and an excited plea. Buck agreed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to pitch in—and, if he was being honest (which he wasn’t), he was also hoping to see Tommy again.

Buck signed up to contribute to the bake sale, spending the evening before the fair elbow-deep in flour and sugar. By the time the fair kicked off, his table was piled high with cookies, brownies, and pumpkin bread, all neatly arranged and drawing plenty of attention.

Sure enough, Buck spotted Tommy running the face-painting booth. Alex insisted on getting a firefighter painted on his cheek, and Tommy obliged with steady hands and an artistic flair that left Buck impressed.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Buck said as Tommy finished, his gaze lingering on the neat little firetruck.

Tommy glanced up, smiling. “Multitasking is part of the job. Though I’m not sure my painting skills are gallery-worthy.”

“Well, Alex looks thrilled, so I’d say you’re doing great,” Buck replied, watching his son beam at his reflection in the mirror Tommy handed him.

Later in the afternoon, they crossed paths at the bake sale. Tommy stopped by Buck’s table, raising an eyebrow at the neat array of treats. “Wow. Did you make all of this?” he asked, picking up a cookie.

“Guilty,” Buck said with a grin. “I figured I’d try to help out—and Alex swore my cookies would sell out.”

Tommy took a bite, his eyes widening slightly. “Okay, these are really good. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Buckley.”

“Evan,” Buck corrected, his grin widening. “And thanks. Coming from the guy who paints flawless firetrucks, I’ll take it.”

Tommy chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the growing line of kids waiting at his booth. “Well, my clients are building up. Better get back before they riot.”

“Good luck,” Buck said with a laugh as Tommy waved and headed off.

Some time later, a commotion near the tug-of-war game caught Buck’s attention. Tommy was helping referee, holding the rope as a group of kids giggled and yanked on the other end. It was clear he wasn’t pulling too hard, letting the kids think they had the upper hand.

But then, with an enthusiastic pull, the rope slipped from his grasp, snapping against his hand. Tommy winced, letting out a soft “Ow,” as he instinctively shook his hand.

“Everything okay over there?” Buck asked, already making his way over.

Tommy looked up, his ears pink. “Just a little mishap. I didn’t want to yank too hard and send them flying, but they got a little too into it.”

“Let me see,” Buck said, reaching for Tommy’s hand. When Tommy hesitated, Buck raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Let the firefighter take a look.”

Tommy sighed but extended his hand. “It’s really nothing—just another day surviving the battlefield of a school fair.”

Buck smirked, gently turning Tommy’s hand over. There was a faint red mark on his palm, and Buck’s thumb brushed over it lightly. “You’re gonna live, but I think you’ll survive this with your reputation intact.”

Tommy’s lips quirked into a dry smile. “Good to know, Doctor Buckley. Should I get a lollipop for being brave?”

Buck laughed, releasing Tommy’s hand. “Depends—do you want me to write you a note to get out of face-painting duty too?”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Tempting, but I think I’ll soldier on.”

Before Buck could reply, a small voice interrupted them. One of the kids from the tug-of-war group had approached, his big eyes teary as he looked up at Tommy. “Mr. Kinard? Are you okay? We’re sorry.”

Tommy’s expression softened immediately. He crouched down, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just be careful, okay? And watch out for your friends, too.”

The boy nodded, sniffling as Tommy smiled warmly. Buck stood back, quietly observing the moment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As Tommy stood up, brushing his hands off, he gave Buck a look. “I think that officially makes me a tug-of-war casualty. Should I get a medal?”

Buck chuckled. “How about some hot choco instead? Seems like a safer bet.”

By the end of the day, Buck and Alex found themselves at the hot chocolate stand, where Tommy offered them steaming cups. Tommy handed Alex’s cup over first, crouching slightly to meet the boy’s excited grin. “For the hardest-working kid at the fair,” Tommy said with a wink.

“Thanks, Mr. Kinard!” Alex chirped, taking the cup carefully with both hands.

Tommy straightened and handed Buck his cup next. “And for the guy who apparently doubles as my personal first responder,” he added lightly, their fingers brushing briefly as Buck took the cup.

“Thanks,” Buck said, feeling a warmth spread through him—not just from the hot chocolate. For a moment, their eyes met, and Buck thought he saw something unspoken in Tommy’s gaze.

Alex interrupted the moment, taking a careful sip and humming in approval. “This is the best hot chocolate, Dad! Right?”

“It’s pretty great,” Buck agreed, smiling down at Alex before glancing back at Tommy.

As they lingered there for a moment longer, Buck decided the fall fair had been well worth the effort.

A month later, during pick-up, Buck arrived at the school later than usual, his steps hurried as he made his way to the playground. A call at work had held him up unexpectedly, and he hadn’t been able to send anyone else to get Alex. He spotted Alex and Tommy laughing together near the swings, and the tension in his chest eased slightly.

As Buck approached, Alex looked up and ran toward him. “Dad! You’re late!” he said, crossing his arms in exaggerated frustration.

Buck crouched down, ruffling Alex’s hair as he unbuckled his backpack from the fence. “I know, buddy. I’m sorry. I got caught up at work.”

Alex huffed but let himself be buckled into the car seat, his earlier frustration giving way to excitement as he started rambling about his day. Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to Tommy.

“I keep messing things up with him,” Buck said, shaking his head. “Sorry about this.”

Tommy shook his head quickly, his expression soft. “Don’t worry, Evan,” he said, then hesitated, glancing at Alex. “You were working. I got yo—him.” He corrected himself with a small smile, his ears turning slightly pink.

Buck chuckled softly, the apology and correction taking the edge off his guilt. Tommy must have noticed, and he leaned against the side of the fence, trying to lighten the mood.

“Alex was just telling me about your firehouse,” Tommy said, his tone casual. “It sounds like you’ve got some pretty cool stories.”

“Oh, plenty,” Buck said, grinning. “Maybe I’ll share a few someday.”

Tommy tilted his head, his expression playful. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Buck stood there for a moment, shifting on his feet, reluctant to leave. Finally, he mustered the courage to ask, “Hey, would you want to grab coffee sometime? You know, somewhere that doesn’t involve spilling it all over you?”

Tommy’s smile widened. “Only if you promise to stop calling me ‘Mr. Kinard. It’s Tommy—and yeah, I’d like that.”

#thanks cia #writing au's is difficult for me but yay i did it #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #*

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grapejuicebrat · 23 hours ago

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just friends - d.s.

warnings: none just disgustingly cute imagine😛

my masterlist

———

You had always been close with Madelyn. Ever since you met on set of one of her projects, the two of you clicked instantly. Movie nights, spontaneous road trips, and long FaceTime calls became routine. Naturally, through her, you met Drew Starkey.

At first, he was just Madelyn’s friend. Then, he was your friend, too.

And maybe—just maybe—you wished he was something more.

It wasn’t your fault he made it so hard not to fall for him.

Like right now.

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Drew announced, dramatically throwing down his controller. “I can’t beat you at this game. It’s physically impossible.”

You grinned, biting your lip to hide your victory laugh. “You say that every time, and yet you still challenge me.”

Drew groaned, flopping backward onto the couch beside you, one arm draped lazily across his face. “Because I have hope. Hope that one day, I’ll witness a miracle and actually win.”

Madelyn, sitting across the room, snorted. “I’ve been trying to tell you, Drew. She’s undefeated.”

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his blue eyes playful. “How does it feel being this good at everything?”

You shrugged, nudging his leg with your sock-clad foot. “It’s a burden, honestly.”

Drew laughed, the warm, boyish sound making your heart do a stupid little flip.

Madelyn, ever the observer, smirked knowingly but said nothing.

It wasn’t weird that Drew always ended up sitting next to you, right? That his arm would somehow end up draped across the couch behind you, or that his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your hoodie? Totally normal friend behavior.

Right?

“Okay, I want ice cream,” Madelyn declared, standing up and stretching. “You guys coming?”

Drew barely reacted. Instead, he turned his head to look at you, eyebrows raised in silent question.

You exhaled dramatically. “Fine, but only if I get to pick the music in the car.”

Drew grinned. “Deal.”

———

The three of you ended up at your favorite little ice cream shop, the kind with fairy lights hanging outside and an old-school jukebox playing soft tunes in the corner.

As you stood in line, Drew nudged your shoulder with his. “What are you getting?”

You pursed your lips. “Undecided. Might need to try a few flavors first.”

Drew rolled his eyes with a smile. “Of course you do.”

When it was finally your turn, you asked for a sample of at least three flavors before deciding. Drew just stood there, watching with amusement, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

“C’mon, just get cookies and cream,” he teased.

You scrunched your nose. “That’s your favorite.”

He grinned. “Exactly. Because it’s the best.”

You ended up going with a different flavor just to spite him. When you sat down at a small outdoor table, Drew immediately leaned over and stole a spoonful from your cup.

You gasped. “Drew!”

He just smirked. “What? You stole mine first.”

Madelyn, sitting across from you, wiggled her eyebrows. “You guys are cute.”

You nearly choked. “We’re—”

“Not dating,” Drew finished smoothly, though something unreadable flickered in his expression.

Madelyn just hummed, clearly unconvinced.

———

As the night went on, the three of you sat outside, talking and laughing under the glow of string lights. Drew’s knee bumped against yours more than once, but he didn’t move it away. When you shivered slightly from the night breeze, he wordlessly pulled off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders, his fingertips grazing your collarbone for just a second too long.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Thanks,” you murmured, tugging it closer.

Drew just smiled, soft and warm. “Anytime.”

Madelyn, sipping her milkshake, smirked behind her straw. “You two are so oblivious.”

You turned to glare at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She just shrugged. “Nothing. Just… funny how you steal each other’s food, sit way too close, share clothes…”

Drew chuckled. “We’re friends, Maddie.”

Madelyn hummed again like she knew something you didn’t. “Sure. Friends.”

———

Later, when Drew drove you home, the car was quiet except for the soft hum of the playlist you picked.

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “You know, Mads isn’t wrong.”

You looked at him, startled. “About what?”

Drew glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “About us.”

Your heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

Drew exhaled, shaking his head with a small smile. “I don’t know. It’s just… I like being around you. Always have.”

Something warm settled in your chest. “I like being around you too.”

He turned to you again at a red light, something unreadable in his blue eyes. “Yeah?”

You nodded, barely breathing. “Yeah.”

Drew’s lips twitched like he wanted to say more, but the light turned green, and he faced forward again.

But the air between you felt different now.

Maybe you and Drew were just friends.

But the way he looked at you tonight?

Maybe you weren’t just anything.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew x reader

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suckunaa · 2 days ago

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i once was poison ivy but now i'm your daisy - hockey!kento nanami x popstar!reader

summary - you were supposed to be a distraction. he was supposed to be a rebound. after finding out your now ex-fiance was cheating on you with one of your bridesmaids, you ended your relationship and swore off dating of any kind. after kento nanami's longtime girlfriend ended things because he was ready to get married and she wasn't, he decided he just needed to take some time to focus on himself. you two are just friends, your younger brother takuma on the same hockey team as kento, and as just friends, it's totally completely normal to start sneaking around behind everyone's back, right?

chapter 2 - dreaming of you as my lover (masterlist) (prev)

word count: 5.6k

contains: nsfw topics, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up fam), foul language, 18+ MDNI (not proofread)

"kento.... fuck!"

the blonde hockey player was currently situated with his head between your legs, your dress pushed up past your waist while his hands were softly caressing your legs. after mercilessly teasing you by trailing slow kisses down your inner thighs, first your left one and then your right one, he had finally reached your center.

kento had stuck his tongue out, dragging it slowly over the front of your panty-clad cunt - that was what had caused you to cry out.

“i hate how much i love what a tease you are,” you whine, pouting as you look down at him.

he lifts his gaze up to meet yours, half grinning as he presses a few kisses to your pussy. “i can tell how much you love it by how wet you already are,” he teased. “have barely touched you and you were already soaking through your panties before my tongue even touched you.”

you playfully rolled your eyes but felt your cunt throb at his words. fuck. he was so goddamn hot. you and kento still hadn’t had sex - not the kind where his cock was pounding into you at least.

you didn’t mind though, because you both had gotten each other off several times since the night you rode his thigh until you came all over him, the first time you took his cock in your mouth. his cock, which, had cum down your throat a handful of times since.

you weren’t one who shied away from sex; your lyrics ranged from sad and heartbroken to happy in love to outright just purely horny. but you also enjoyed the buildup between you two, the way your heated make out sessions had grown more and more intense, the intimacy that came from the way you had both taken the time to explore each others bodies.

sure, he had yet to push his thick cock into your right core, but he had spent plenty of time between your legs, his tongue, his fingers, his mouth all taking the time to get to know the sensitive space between your legs. his lips had kissed almost every inch of your body, had left marks only you would know about on your breasts.

and yeah, you were dying to show him how good you could take his impressive cock, but you had also spent plenty of time with your tongue and your mouth exploring said cock. your fingers had grown familiar with the way his veiny length felt under the touch of your skin, had teased his balls and learned where exactly he liked to be touched.

so while you hadn’t had full on cock in pussy sex with each other yet, you had become very well versed in each others bodies.

kento was very good at worshipping your body. his eyes always looked like they were seeing a work of art no matter which part of your body he was looking at, every touch on your body (even the rougher ones) was laced with the sense that he was touching something sacred.

he got you wet easily, a fact he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. he loved to tease you for it, pointing it out every time just so he got to see you roll your eyes. because everytime you rolled your eyes while he was between your legs, it was always accompanied by a look of sultry mischief - he couldn’t fucking resist it.

nanami was still in awe that he could elicit these sort of reactions out of you. he had never been lacking attention from women, was sort of immune to it simply because he had never been the kind of guy that cared about something like that. not that he was above casual flings or even the (rare) one night stand, his ego and sense of self had just never been tied to how desirable other people found him.

but you? you had to be the most stunning person he had ever seen. hell, he’d wager you were the most stunning person on the face of earth. you could have quite literally anyone you wanted, but here you were, legs spread wide while you laid back on his couch, and it was his fingers pulling your panties down to expose your sweet cunt to him.

you lifted your hips a little to help him, kicking your panties off to the side as soon as he had gotten them off one of your legs.

“please,” you pleaded, your voice breathy and full of need as one of your hands weaved your fingers into his hair, hips moving to put your pussy closer to his mouth.

he let out a low chuckle, eyes still locked in on yours as his tongue slipped out between his lips again, the wet muscle dragging up your slit slowly, every single one of your nerves on fire. a low, drawn out moan escaped your lips, fingers tugging at his hair to wordlessly say “more… more… more.”

he teased you a little more, using his fingers to pull the hood hiding your clit away, exposing the bundle of nerves before his tongue lapped at it a few times.

eliciting a few more moans and swears under your breath from you, he pulled your pussy lips apart with two fingers before plunging his tongue past your folds and into your cunt.

you had been trying to maintain eye contact with him but the feeling was too much, your eyes closing as your back arched a little, kento fucking you with his tongue while his thumb pressed on your clit. your hips bucked up, ready to start grinding against his mouth and chase the orgasm you could feel building and -

a sharp knock on the door before the doorbell rang.

instantly, your eyes snapped open, kento’s face lifting up from between your legs and turning towards the front door.

“nanami i’m here!! exactly on time, i think you should be impressed actually…”

your eyes snap to kento, a look of disbelief written all over your face. “is that my brother?!” you hissed out.

“fuck…” he groaned, his eyes closing as he tilted his head back. “i forgot he was coming over for dinner tonight.”

you swung a leg over his head, standing up quickly. your dress fell back down, your eyes searching for wherever the hell your panties had landed when you so carelessly tossed them aside. “well shit, get up.” your tone was panicked, a feeling you wished you saw in nanami’s face when you looked over at him.

but of course he wasn’t flustered, even though you two had been working very hard to make sure no one ever caught you two together. no, kento nanami was always the picture perfect face of calm and rational even in the midst of chaos.

“aha!” you snatched your panties up and held them up in victory. you made to put them back on, but before you could kento snatched them from you, a look of amusement on his face. “these are mine, at least for now.”

your eyebrow shot up in question, wondering where this was going. “answer the door, tell takuma i’m just freshening up.” he paused, looking a little bashful. “i, uhm, i gotta take care of my hard on.”

your eyes dropped down, locking on to the bulge he wouldn’t be able to hide. it was then you laughed, shaking your head as you once again playfully rolled your eyes (he almost lost control at the sight), cupping his cock with your hand over the fabric of his pants. “alright alright, go take care of yourself while i…” you waved your hand in the air, indicating you were trying to think of what to say to your brother.

you had to force yourself to banish all thoughts of kento taking care of himself, not try to imagine what he was using your soaked panties for.

brushing your fingers through your hair a few times, you smoothed out your dress as you walked to the front door and forced a casual smile onto your face before you pulled the door open.

“kuma!” you grinned at him, noting the look of confusion that crossed his face. “y/n? what are you doing here?” he asked, unable to hide the suspicion he felt.

“kento invited me over for lunch and then i fell asleep on his couch,” you lied smoothly. “didn’t mean to stay over for so long, he’s freshening up or something. i’m just about to head out…”

but instead, takuma shook his head, a large grin replacing the look of confusion on his features; a twinge of guilt tugged at your heart at how easily he accepted your excuse. “nah, you should totally stay for dinner! i’m sure nanami wouldn’t mind.” you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could he was speaking again. “dinner with my two favorite people? i’m such a lucky guy!”

you couldn’t resist that. your younger brother was genuinely one of your favorite people to be around - his attitude was infectious, he didn’t get mad often, he was always just wanting those around him to be happy and safe and to have a good time.

"well, if you're sure i'm not interrupting bros night..."

takuma laughs, shaking his head as he walks over to the living room. “you have met nanami right? he doesn’t do ‘bros night,’ at least not like how toji or the other guys do.” a fact that didn’t surprise you at all. but you didn’t have a chance to reply, because before you could you hear your brother again.

“nanami! i invited y/n to stay over for dinner, you don’t mind right?” you stood behind takuma, playfully raising an eyebrow at kento while his face remained neutral. “yeah, i’m just getting started on cooking now so that’s fine with me.”

it drove you crazy in the best of ways, the way nanami could so easily switch to the role of total composure, like his face hadn’t just been buried in your cunt ten minutes ago. you had to banish those thoughts though, linking your arm with takuma’s.

“we’ll help you cook, we used to help our parents cook all the time when we were growing up,” you declared, steering you and kuma towards the kitchen. you felt bad lying to your brother, felt bad keeping this big secret from him.

but you weren’t sure how he’d react. would he resent you for encroaching on his territory, wonder why you had to hook up with the person he looked up to the most and considered a best friend? or would he do the opposite, be ecstatic and get carried away, start talking about how he couldn’t wait for you and kento to get married and then they could be brothers for real.

with takuma, you knew it could go either way. and since you and nanami were just friends, you didn’t think it was necessary to make things complicated by telling loads of people. you yourself had only told yuki and mei mei, two of your best friends, because you knew they’d keep it to themselves. as for kento, you weren’t sure if he’d told anyone but you were confident if he did, he’d also made sure to tell only someone who could keep their mouth shut.

you also suspected that under his cool, indifferent demeanor, kento was also worried about how takuma would react.

you let nanami take control in the kitchen, you and your younger brother dutifully doing whatever task he assigned you - though you did notice you seemed to end up with all the chopping duties, as if kento knew takuma could be careless in the kitchen.

“you know, this is the first time ino has ever helped me cook, usually he’s either on the couch watching a game or sitting at the counter talking my ear off,” the blonde man mused, your eyebrow shooting up as you look at your brother, playfully hitting his arm with the towel in your hand. “takuma! did you even offer to help before?”

like it was some sort of crime for the guest to not offer any help - which, according to your mother, it probably was.

“hey! nanamin probably wouldn’t trust me to help if you weren’t here.” a small laugh escapes kento’s lips, your gaze turning towards him. “that’s probably for the best. one time kuma made mac ‘n cheese without draining the water from the noodles… actually i think he did that twice.”

your brother’s eyes widened as he looked at you, an over dramatic look of betrayal on his face. “right, says the one who insisted on baking a homemade cake for mom’s birthday one year but apparently can’t read.” he let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he looked at nanami. “recipe called for two cups of flour and one tablespoon of baking powder, but y/n put two cups of baking powder and one tablespoon of flour.”

your jaw dropped, a blush creeping up on your cheeks as your eyes bounced between nanami and takuma. your younger brother looking at you with a shit eating grin, the man you’d been secretly hooking up with looking at you with a smile tugging at his lips that you could see he was trying to keep down, a crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

an exasperated sigh left your lips, head shaking as your eyes rolled and you shrugged. "yeah yeah, laugh it up. there's a reason i'm not a professional baker..." you couldn't hold back your own grin, nudging takuma in the side as he laughed.

"well since we're sharing cooking sins," nanami started, his voice much closer behind you than you expected. he reached over your shoulder to pick up the seasoning bottle right in front of you, his front pressed against your back and his other hand gently on your arm for such a brief amount of time that it shouldn't have had any sort of effect on you - but it did. goosebumps pricked up across your skin, and you suddenly realized that it was a lot harder to keep your hands to yourself when other's were around than you'd thought it would be.

"i was helping my grandmother make cupcakes and i accidentally used salt instead of sugar. we didn't taste test them before she brought them over to her friend's house for book club..." you turned around to look at kento, his focus on the stove as he cooked.

"disappointing a bunch of grandma's, now that's tough," takuma replied, letting out a heavy sigh like he was the one telling the story and full of regret. "the good news is," he carried on brightly "all the grandmas love nanami now! well, not just the grandma's, all the women always really love him... but remember when we went to that retirement home to hang with the old people? man, those ladies were swooning on and on about what a gentleman nanami is."

you could see kento's cheeks flush a little, his head shaking as he turned the stove off and picked the pot he'd been working on up, transferring the food to a serving container. "well i'm not surprised, kento speaks in complete sentences and then there's you and yuji arguing over who has more aura and complaining that godzilla in fortnite moves too slow."

you wink over at kento, resisting the urge to kiss his cheek and instead grab one of the dishes in front of him, heading off to the dining table. "quit embarrassing me in front of nanami.." you hear your brother grumble, laughter your only response.

dinner goes by quickly, or rather it feels like it does. in reality, what you assumed had been only 45 minutes had actually been two hours. two hours of the three of you sitting around nanami's dinner table, sharing the meal you had made together (okay, kento had done the majority of the work) while cracking jokes and trading stories.

for every story you had about takuma growing up, he had one about you that was even more embarrassing. for every silly story your brother had about nanami, nanami had one of takuma making a fool of himself. a lot of laughter rang through the air, and as the dinner wound down you felt a rush of warmth in your chest.

you knew that takuma looked up to nanami, it wasn't something he had ever kept a secret. but tonight was the first time you could see how much kento also cared about your little brother. he was always ready with advice on any topic kuma brought up, had a tip for a skill on the ice that he needed help with, was rational and matter of fact in a way that balanced out your brother's excitement.

you felt a wave of affection for kento, one that went far past the lust that had been leading your actions with him thus far. but you shoved those thoughts away, because you two were still just friends, you two weren't actually anything.

once takuma left, you had helped clear the table and were now standing at the sink, carefully washing dishes as kento put leftovers away. eventually, you felt him come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waste as his chin rested on your shoulder. "you don't have to wash those, i'll do them later."

you shook your head, continuing with your task at hand. "no, you made dinner, it's only right i do the dishes. especially since takuma didn't even offer to help clean up..." you grumbled. kento chuckled softly, pressing his lips to your cheek. "don't be too hard on him, he stopped offering to help clean up after i kept telling him no."

the two of you stood like that for the remainder of the time you did dishes, a comfortable silence settling over you. his lips would find your cheek, your neck, the corner of your lips. the closer you got to finishing the dishes, the more his kisses started to become less chaste and more greedy.

"you're trying to cause trouble," you teased when you felt one of his hands roam up your body, cupping one of your breasts before it moved to the other. "i hope you don't think i'm going to let you leave while we have unfinished business," he murmured into your ear right before he gently nibbled at it. "i am a gentleman, after all, remember?" you hummed in agreement, your thoughts already getting hazy as you washed off the last dish.

"and a gentleman would never let a woman leave before she cums, especially not when she was already so close earlier..." his hands roam your body, fingers teasingly running over your core, the fabric of your dress the only thing between your cunt and the pads of his fingers - you remembered then that he had taken your panties earlier.

you press your ass back against his crotch, already feeling him getting hard behind you. "mmm, that's true... you got to take care of yourself and i was left totally unsatisfied." you turn your head to look at him, pouting playfully before you let out a surprised squeal as he turned you around to face him. he looked down at you, the lust evident in his eyes before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss.

you kissed him back eagerly, softly moaning against his lips as he slipped a hand under your dress, his fingers running agonizingly slow up and down your slit. he groaned at the feeling of how wet you were getting, hips pressing closer against his hand, begging for more of his touch.

he complied, one of his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in small circles, the sudden increase in intensity in the pleasure building up in your body causing you to gasp, head rolling back as his lips seamlessly moved from yours to your throat. he pressed hot kisses to your skin, working his way down to the side of your neck while he pressed a finger inside your needy cunt.

"fuck...." you moaned out, unable to help yourself as your hips bucked against his hand, wanting to feel his finger as deep in you as possible. your own hands reached out, wasting no time as you unbuttoned his pants and impatiently tugged them off. you didn't waste much time, hands pulling his boxers down immediately after so that his hard cock sprang free.

kento pulled his finger out of you, causing you to whine a little before he took your hand in his and guided it to your pussy. "want you to feel how wet you are for me, darling," he muttered, getting your fingers covered in your own juices. you wordlessly nodded, letting him take full control of your actions - your own thoughts were too hazy, too lust filled; it was getting hard to focus.

he pulled your hand up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around one of your fingers before sucking it clean, letting out a groan as he tasted you off your own finger. "m'gonna need more of that taste," he said, his voice more steady than you felt. "the perfect dessert for me." and with that, he picked you up by the waste and set you on the kitchen counter.

pulling you closer to the edge, kento smoothly dropped to his knees, adjusting your legs over his shoulders as he bunched your dress up. "look at her, so pretty and wet just for me." the way he was speaking was driving you crazy, his tone giving away just how bad he wanted you. you couldn't even reply, because the next thing you knew his mouth was attached to your cunt again.

your fingers immediately grabbed for his hair, tugging on his locks as you felt his tongue teasing your slit. he used a hand to spread your lips for him, his tongue starting at the bottom as it dragged up slowly, making his way to your clit. his tongue traced circles around your sensitive bud, causing your legs to squeeze around him briefly.

he wasn't deterred though, repeating this slow game of his tongue dragging down your pussy before it dragged back up, circling your clit a few times before dragging it back down and starting the whole process. it felt torturous and exhilarating at the same time, the pleasure slow but intense. "you are such a tea-" but before you could finish your sentence, suddenly he had pushed a finger back into you, his mouth now latching on to your clit.

"oh - fuck! shit, of my fucking god," you moaned, tugging on his hair as he slipped a second finger inside you. he sucked on your clit, your eyes closing as your head lolled back in pleasure. "oh my fucking god," you repeated, your words coming out slowly as you felt his two fingers inside you start to move in a scissoring motion.

not only did his thick fingers feel incredible inside of you, but you could also tell (or maybe you were just hoping) he was working on stretching you out a bit, and you were suddenly desperate for his cock to be inside you. it felt good to have any part of him inside your pussy though, hips rotating in a grinding motion as you fucked yourself on his fingers.

"i'm gonna cum if you don't stop that," you whined, expecting him to stop, maybe have you suck him off before finally pressing his length inside of you. but he didn't stop. in fact, your words only seemed to cause him to be become more determined, his tongue flicking repeatedly against your clit while his fingers pushed in and out of your throbbing pussy.

your back arched as soon as he started to finger fuck you faster, harder, and you knew you weren't going to last much longer. moans and swears left your lips, your breathing getting heavier as his fingers curled inside you and he hit that sweet spot, your hips jerking in surprise. "ah, there it is..." he mumbled against your cunt before he went back to sucking on your clit.

you couldn't take it anymore. the way he was sucking on your clit and hitting your g spot with his fingers had you pulling at his hair, and you felt your body tense up right before he tipped you over the edge of pleasure. "oh god, kento!" you squeezed your thighs around his head as waves of pleasure hit you over and over again. which didn't deter him, his mouth still working on your clit while his fingers fucked you in rhythm with the way your hips were bucking up and down, helping you ride through your high.

when you finally calmed down, he slowly pulled his fingers out of your cunt, tilting his head to look up at you. his face had your slick smeared all over, and you beckoned him up with a finger. "let me taste myself on your lips..." you murmured, still trying to catch your breath, cheeks flushed as your heart raced.

nanami complied, standing up between your legs before his hands found home on your hips, pulling you a little closer as he leaned in for a kiss. you moaned against his lips, your hands cupping his face to keep him near you. "you're so goddamn beautiful," he mumbled into the kiss, letting out a groan as one of your hands dropped down to find his cock.

you found that you still wanted more, still craved him, and so you brushed your fingers down his length, letting him know you still wanted him. you wrapped your hand around him, gently stroking his cock as the pair of you sloppily made out, tongues finding each other, a strand of saliva pulled between you two when he finally pulled away from your lips.

"i want you so bad," he confessed, your hand guiding his cock towards your entrance. "i need to feel you buried inside me, kenny," you cooed, and he moaned at the nickname you'd never used on him before, at the feeling of his tip nudging your swollen cunt. he rubbed himself against your slick slit, looking down into your eys.

"are you sure?" he asked, and of course you were sure, you were practically begging him to fuck you - but the fact that he made sure made you want him even more. he pulled your dress up over your head before he pulled off his own shirt, wanting you both bare and naked the first time he fucked you.

you watched him intently, your hands reaching back to undo your bra while he pulled his shirt off, tossing said bra to the side. "perfect, perfect tits," he said slowly, both hands reaching up to cup your breasts, massaging the fleshy mounds while his thumbs ran over your nipples, making them hard.

"i didn't take you for a tits man, kenny, thought you'd be more of a breast man," you teased, his gaze ripping away from your chest to look into your eyes again.

"guess showing you how much i love dirty, filthy talk is something we have to look forward too." there was a mischievous look in his eyes as he spoke, one that caused your tongue to dart out and run along your bottom lip.

"are you saying we get to sext next time you have an away game?" you tease again. you were about to add on another tease, something about how you hoped his dick pic game was strong but when you went to open your mouth again, all that came out was a loud, sharp moan.

kento had pushed the tip of his cock inside your tight, leaking cunt, and it felt fucking amazing. "so tight f'me, sweetheart," he said slowly, voice low as he pushed a little bit more inside you. he was letting you get used to his size, hips pulling back a little before pressing back in, going in just a bit deeper each time.

feeling your hot, tight walls suck him in was already driving him crazy, his thoughts addled by pure lust and need. this was a scenario he had fantasized before. a few times, actually. he was patient and he would have waited as long as you wanted to, but kento nanami had been dying to fuck you.

he was going at an agonizingly slow pace, and it was taking every ounce of self control he had to keep it up and not just immediately start fucking the shit out of you. which he wanted to do, badly. and you wanted him to do it also, wanted him to fuck you desperately like a starved man. but you appreciated the time he was taking, finding it attractive that even when you could tell he just wanted to lose control he was keeping it together to make sure you were comfortable.

he bottoms out eventually, the two of you locking eyes as you take in how it feels to have him fill you up completely. you reach out to pull his face to yours, kissing him desperately and this is what does it for him. something inside nanami snaps as he kisses you, his hands grabbing your thighs to hold your legs up when he finally starts to fuck you.

he finds a steady pace quickly, the sound of his cock pounding into your swollen pussy while his balls slapped against you filling the room. you were both a mess of moans, your lips often finding each other for sloppy, intense kisses.

your hips worked in time with his, rolling back and forth against him while he fucked you, his fingers digging into your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

kento buried his face into your neck, switching between kissing at your skin and sucking on it, nipping occasionally. the idea that he was marking you turned you on even more, your cunt aching at the thought.

"i'm pretty close," he mumbled against your neck, biting at your skin and eliciting another loud moan from you. "but i want you to cum again first."

one of your hands gripped the back of his neck, your other hand moving to hold onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. he groaned your name out in pleasure, knowing he was coming closer and closer to his orgasm with every thrust into you - hoping you were even closer.

"god....fuck! kento..." those seemed to be the only three words you could get out, a mix of your moans and whines filling his ear as he reached for one of your hands, pulling it down between the two of you and guiding your fingers to your clit.

he used your finger like a toy, rubbing your clit with it, pressing down on your finger to add extra pressure to the sensation you were feeling between your legs. it was so hot, the way he was using your own hand to play with your clit, like you were masturbating for his pleasure.

and that did it, the thought that you getting off turned him on and your tight walls suddenly clamped around his cock and he swore into your ear. he could feel your body tense again, could feel the way your pussy clenched and unclenched around him right before you let out a cry and came all over his cock.

he continued to fuck you, your orgasm washing over you as you tilted your head back, wanting to look into his eyes again. "cum inside me," you said softly, and the tone of your voice drove him absolutely wild, his hands shifting to grip your hips as he thrust harder into you. "are y'sure, darling?" he grunted out, and as soon as you nodded your head he knew he was about to lose it.

a few more hard thrusts into your cunt and soon he was shooting ropes of cum deep inside you. he continued to move his hips, each thrust fucking the mixture of both of your releases deep into you, load groans escaping his lips freely.

"fuck, you're so fucking incredible." his thrusts slowed down until he finally stopped, your foreheads pressed against each others as you looked into each others eyes. both breathless, both flushed, both feeling the after sex high. he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, one which you returned slowly, enjoying the softness of the moment.

"you.... kento you are so fucking good, holy shit." your words cause a smirk to spread to his face as he pulled out of you, his fingers brushing your hair back before he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.

"i didn't intend for our first time to fuck to be in my kitchen," he murmured, amused as his thumbs caressed your face. "well if it makes you feel better, that's the first time my first time with someone was in a kitchen?"

he laughs at that, kissing your forehead. "what an honor indeed, darling." you two cleaned up, and when he offered you a shower and asked if you wanted to stay over, you couldn't help but agree.

"just friends," you remind yourself as you got into his bed later that night, dressed in only one of his tshirts.

"just friends," you remind yourself as he lets you choose what to watch on the tv to fall asleep to.

"just friends," you remind yourself as he rolls over in his sleep in the middle of the night and wraps his arms around you.

"just friends," you remind yourself as you let yourself relax into his arms.

"just friends," you remind yourself as you drift back to sleep, thinking about how nice it felt to fall asleep next to kento nanami.

just friends.

a/n: hope this one was alright!! i was so obsessed with the idea of takuma interrupting them completely cluelessly it was making me laugh. hopefully the rust is coming off of me writing smut, haven't done it consistently for a while!! any comments are welcome and appreciated!!

taglist: (open) @starmapz @raquel12

#jjk smau #jjk texts #nanami smau #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami fic #nanami texts #nanami fluff #nanami smut #kento nanami fanfic #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff

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trainsinanime · 3 days ago

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When people say Marinette is too anxious and has regressed in Illustrhater, they forget some very important facts:

Marinette is very sleep-deprived because she and Alya spent all night up theorising about the new Hawkmhoth. Who knows what kind of caffeine she took in to be functional for their date. It must've been bad.

Speaking of: New Hawkmoth. Yes, Marinette is redirecting some of her insecurities about Adrien onto New Hawkmoth, but she is definitely genuinely anxious about this new threat and this keeps filling her head.

Also bridges in the city randomly collapse now. That was canonically not a superhero, just a really bad condition of the bridge. How many more bridges are about to collapse? Did they cut corners while building these new trams? All that would weigh heavily on my mind too.

These excellent points aside, I also really, really like that Marinette is anxious about dating Adrien. The thing is, I have seen so many shows that had a will-they-won't-they thing going on forever, and then once they did, like a dog that caught the car, the show didn't know what to do with them. The solutions were generally an attempt to return to status quo. Make them break up. Have the forces of fate separate them. Something, anything, other than actually write the romance you just had made canon.

Miraculous Ladybug has even more risk here, because at the end of season 5, for better or worse, all the things that could challenge Marinette in the real-life A plot of an episode have vanished. Her real-life enemies have been exposed and left the school (Lila) or outright deported (Chloé), and her other big challenge was always Adrien. Frankly the show needs to do something to ensure Adrinette isn't too easy, otherwise all the plots would be, "Marinette is having a super-awesome day, briefly interrupted by an akuma". No, they found a way to still challenge Marinette here, in ways that feel authentic to her as a character, and to her challenge of having a real boyfriend for the first time (don't be too sad about Luka's feelings here, he'll understand).

Now, I know many people will say that this is all nice in theory, but the way in which they did in Adobe Illustrhater was so over-the-top and unrealistic that it felt like they were watching a French cartoon for six-to-ten year olds. And to that I can only say: It's been a while since we all watched a regular episode of this show, hasn't it?

#miraculous ladybug #ml illustrhater #ml illustrator spoilers #ml s6 #ml s6 spoilers #ml spoilers #ml season 6 #ml season 6 spoilers

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gloomskulls · 3 days ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given to a father like you, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter��dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

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yaniluvs · 11 hours ago

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✿ : hazy mornings , lonely lips .

[ 승민‎ ] ✷ ‎ . . 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 .

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏f!seungmin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑔n!reader g. domestic fluff , humour , uni!au , established relationship . II,3OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ L𝒾BRARY . 𓋜 . cw. suggestive , kisses , intimacy. ✦ requested drabble. ! ࿐

yani's note ! ✿ double post today >< thank you to anon for the request ! <3 also, this may be my first gender-neutral-reader fic :3 not too proud of this, but oh well, not my best work either !! requests are currently open, so are anon claims !! i lowkey cringed at myself while writing this... i'm so not good with suggestive fics, but i did what i could !! comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading <3

the first thing you notice is warmth. not the kind that wakes you up in a sweat, but the kind that lulls you into staying—into sinking deeper under the covers where his scent lingers, where his presence is heavy and real.

your boyfriend is still beside you, half-buried in the blanket, one arm thrown lazily over your waist. his hair is a mess, tufts of brown sticking up in unruly directions, and his lips are parted slightly, a soft breath escaping with every rise and fall of his chest. he’s warm. solid. here.

you barely remember how last night ended—just flashes of laughter, his teasing remarks that made your stomach twist, the way he pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead before pulling you down beside him. the details blur, but this moment is sharp, etched into the quiet glow of morning.

soon enough, you heard a soft groan. looks like he was up early, too.

“good morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, rasping against the quiet like a melody only the morning gets to hear.

the golden light spilling through the window drapes across his face, tracing every sharp plane and soft curve as if the sun itself is enamored by him. shadows gather in the hollows of his cheeks, the slope of his nose, the gentle dip above his cupid’s bow. his lips are slightly parted, still kiss-bitten from the night before, and his lashes—long, delicate—flutter lazily as he blinks against the glow of dawn.

his hair is a tousled mess, strands falling over his forehead in an artless way that makes him look even softer, like something meant to be admired in the quiet hours between dreaming and waking. the light catches in his dark eyes, turning them into liquid gold, flecks of amber igniting within the deep brown. sleep lingers in them, slow and heavy, but there’s warmth too—something tender, something just for you.

he looks like a painting, half-finished, caught between shadow and sunlight, between sleep and consciousness. and when he turns to you, lips quirking up just slightly, eyes lidded with drowsy affection, you think the morning has never been more beautiful.

“are you done staring, pretty?”

“your morning voice is so hot.”

it slips out before you can think twice, your voice still drowsy, thick with sleep. you’re staring at him, at the way the first rays of light filter through the window, casting golden lines across his bare shoulder. he blinks once, slowly, before turning his head toward you.

then he laughs. a deep, husky sound, slightly raspy, like the remnants of sleep still cling to his throat. “what?”

you hum, inching closer, pressing your palm against his chest where his heartbeat drums steadily beneath your fingertips. “i said… your morning voice is hot.”

his lips twitch—amusement flickering through the sleepiness in his gaze. “did you wake up just to thirst over me?”

you grin, fingers tracing idle shapes against his skin. “maybe.”

seungmin exhales a laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, his grip on you tightens, his arm curling more securely around your waist, fingers pressing into your back like he needs to hold you there. his warmth seeps into you, and you find yourself slipping further into him, into this softness he rarely shows to anyone else.

“you’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, voice still gravelly, still unfairly attractive.

“and you love me,” you counter, tilting your chin up to look at him.

his gaze meets yours, dark eyes holding something quieter, something deeper. he doesn’t say it—not right now. but you feel it in the way he shifts, in the way he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, in the way his lips brush against your temple, slow and deliberate.

his touch lingers, fingers trailing down the side of your face, ghosting over your jaw before settling beneath your chin. he tilts your face up just enough for his lips to catch against yours, a soft, teasing press, barely there.

“you’re so clingy in the mornings,” he muses, voice lower now, warm against your mouth.

you scoff, but it comes out breathy when he kisses you again, firmer this time—less teasing, more intent. his lips part against yours, and you sigh into it, letting him deepen the kiss, letting yourself melt into the lazy pull of morning, the way his hands skim over your skin like he’s mapping you out all over again.

somewhere between the kisses, between the way he tugs you closer like he can’t stand even a sliver of distance, you murmur, “i should tell you your voice is hot more often, then.”

seungmin exhales another laugh against your lips, and it’s the best sound you’ve heard all morning.

“my lips feel lonely.” he spoke.

“yeah?” you murmur, lips quirking. “tragic. truly.”

seungmin hums, lazy amusement curling at the edges of his mouth. his fingers tighten around your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your—his—shirt, tracing absentminded circles against your skin. his hands are warm, just a little rough, and the feeling sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“you could fix it,”

you raise a brow, feigning contemplation. “hmm. i could.”

his thumb drags slowly over your hipbone, and your resolve weakens by the second. you swear he knows it, too, because that smirk is growing—sleepy, teasing, stupidly attractive.

“but should i?” you continue, tilting your head. “i mean, you were making fun of me just now. you don’t deserve my generosity.”

seungmin scoffs, lips brushing your temple again. “you just called my voice hot. i think you’ve lost all your rights to act indifferent.”

you narrow your eyes, pressing your palm flat against his chest. “i can get them back.”

“mm, sure. go ahead.” he exhales a quiet laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like he has all the time in the world. his voice dips into something softer, something closer to a whisper. “but you won’t.”

and you won’t. because he’s right here, warm and solid, pressed against you like he belongs there.

you sigh, tilting your chin up just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. “you’re mean.”

“you love me.”

“yeah, yeah.”

“then help my lips.”

your breath catches when he tightens his hold, pulling you even closer until your noses are barely apart, until his lips graze yours in the laziest, most infuriating tease. his gaze flickers down to your mouth—slow, deliberate—before returning to your eyes, dark with something knowing.

“see?” he murmurs. “clingy.”

“shut up,” you mutter, before finally closing the gap.

it starts slow, like the morning, like the warmth lingering between the sheets. his lips are soft, warm, moving against yours in a way that makes your thoughts scatter. there’s no urgency, no rush—just the gentle push and pull of something familiar, something sweet.

and then seungmin tilts his head, deepens the kiss just slightly, and you melt.

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently, and he groans into your mouth—a sound that sends heat curling through you. his hand slides up your back, pressing you flush against him, like he needs to feel every inch of you.

when you part for air, your breath stutters. seungmin’s eyes are heavy-lidded, lips just barely swollen, and he’s looking at you like he’s already thinking about kissing you again.

“feel better?” you ask, voice breathless.

he studies you for a second, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, before dragging his thumb over the curve of your mouth.

“not yet.”

and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, pulling you right back into him like the morning is endless.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance

!! please let me know under this post, or this one, if i forgot you in the taglist, my inactivity made me lose track, i'm really sorry !!

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mrsnishimuraaa · 23 hours ago

Text

i’ll take good care of you

PAIRING : FBI agent!niki x CEO daughter!reader

SYNOPSIS: having an insanely rich and powerful father was always something different, you never know who can be after you or your family. So when you have your own agents hired and Nishimura Riki is assigned to look after you, trained to always keep his emotions in check but when he meets you everything changes, the professional detachment unravels as he falls for the girl he’s sworn to keep safe. torn between duty and desire even in the worst of times.

GENRE: strangers to lovers, fluff and angst, mentions of death

well i did do a poll for this but i deleted the poll and decided to write it anyways plus all the votes were yes! so here we are ☺️

“now off you go, don’t mess this up Nishimura” the head of agents says sternly as he pats niki’s shoulder gently. they had just finished a long briefing the objective coming out as: Protect the CEO’s daughter. keep her safe. at all costs. Simple enough, very do-able.

niki stepped out of the office building and made his way to the sidewalk. the area around was busy, but he caught the company transport, gave the driver the address, and relaxed as they drove through the nice neighborhood, passing big houses and well-kept gardens on the way to the destination.

when niki arrived at the place he was sent to, the first thing that hits him is the silence. The kind of quiet that comes with a fuck ton of money. as he steps up to the front doors, he’s greeted by an abnormally large door that’s framed by tall columns. lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and a series of different flowers. useless stone statues in spots around the well kept garden. ‘what kind of fucking person with this much money needs a special agent’ is the thought running through his mind, but he continues to walk up the concrete steps before knocking on the door.

the front door swings open and he’s met with a man in a suit “nishimura riki right?” the man asks , he can hear the money imprinted in his voice. “that’s me, you can call me niki if you’d like” he responds, reaching a hand out to shake the man’s hand. “come inside” the man wavers him in, stepping aside to invite him to the house.

as he steps in he’s met with marble floor, a big grand staircase and chandeliers as if they were normal room lighting. the openness of the house screams filthy wealth to him, expensive artwork on the walls and an unnecessary amount of vases. “take a seat, take a seat let me call my daughter down” niki nods as he lets himself fall back on the big white couch, admiring the inside of the house that is before him.

the man comes back with a girl, as she elegantly walks down then stairs before making her way over. “hey, i’m y/n it’s nice to meet you” her smile beams as niki stands up in a array of manners , reaching his hand to shake hers “ Riki Nishimura, but you can just call me niki” he faintly smiles and nods his head. “look i’m so sorry about this, my dad is just so paranoid” you laugh in attempt to lighten the mood a bit, sitting on the chair across from him. but niki knows how oblivious you are to the situation your in, your thinking your dad hired him for no reason. “ well it is my job at the end of the day right” he says , clasping his hands together.

after chatting for a while, and niki being shown to the room he will be staying in for probably quite some time, night had fallen and niki was left to soak in his own thoughts.

niki had forced his mind back to the mission what felt like millions of times , pushing aside the thoughts that kept drifting to y/n. everything about her was distracting, but he couldn’t afford to get caught up in it. this was only a job, nothing more. he had to remind himself that his focus had to stay sharp and collected, any personal feelings were a risk he just couldn’t take.

the first few days were definitely something , attempting to grow to know each other he figured the job may not be too difficult, the only instruction from her father being to keep her safe at all times, even if it means fleeing the country. you on the other hand never knew why being protected so well was so important, your father never explained it to you and only left you just plain curious as to why what he does is so serious that people want to hunt down him and his family

all of that aside you thought niki was generally attractive, though you know that’s something you can’t go against on your father, you’ll just have to keep it to yourself. although you do enjoy his company, despite how cold and collected he may seem. as you’ve never really spent much time with many people your age because of the so called ‘risk’ . it was oddly comforting to finally have someone to talk to other than your mother or father for once.

but at the same time he has this cold, almost unapproachable look, with a tough expression that doesn’t seem to change no matter what’s happening around him. it’s like he’s built a wall around himself, but sometimes in the quiet moments, you catch a glimpse of something different. softening in his eyes or a rare smile that feels out of place but somehow not. you know it’s there, buried beneath the tough play, that soft heart of his waiting to be seen if you’re patient enough to look beyond the coldness. and it really makes you wonder sometimes how long it’s gonna take for you to crack the cold surface of his heart.

you think maybe it’s because he’s here sincerely to do his job and that he could possibly get in trouble if he shows a warmer more bright side of him. either way your determination to figure it out grows

although most of the time your father was never home , and your mom always being in other countries on business trips, you found yourself spending a awful lot of time with niki, desperate to crack the coldness and authority in his heart against you, bringing up random topics to get to know him better was definitely helping a bit but never a lot.

but oh little did you know his feelings only ever growing fonder and fonder of you, having to push them right back down and attempt to separate his feelings from buisiness. he can’t let his guard down like this, he’s only here simply for work right?

never in a million years would his mind cross that you would feel the same way as him, suppressing your feelings thinking he would not be here for a long amount of time. or even the thought of how cold hearted he may seem, you hope maybe he will become much warmer to you one day.

but the day your father never comes home from work, it all changes.

your first instinct is to panic, the morning you realise your father has been missing for 2 days, your hysterical sobbing whilst pacing the kitchen awakens niki as he rushes downstairs, completely forgetting to put on a shirt but that’s the least of his concerns, grabbing the gun he was told to bring incase of an emergency, thinking you were being attacked.

he puts his back to the walls, gun drawn infront of him as he carefully yet quickly makes his way to where the sound of your crying is coming from.

gladly hes met with the sight of you laying over the kitchen counter sobbing at a piece of paper in front of you rather than being stabbed brutally by a hit man. “y/n what’s wrong, talk to me” he rushes over dropping the gun on the counter, his cold hearted play immediately washing away as he hears your cries, placing a hand on your shoulder, the other reaching out to pick up the letter infront of you.

“Dear miss Kang Y/N

We are incredibly sorry to inform you of the tragic assasination of your father Sir. Kang Jin-woo.”

that being the only sentence his eyes run over,the word ‘assasination’ ticks something off, completely ignoring the rest of the long letter. he engulfs you in a hug, rubbing your back as you sob into his bare chest. the moment is cut short by the ringtone of his phone “shit, one moment” he gives your back a last light rub before pulling back to answer the phone. “Hello? yes nishimura speaking, okay i’ll be gone in the next hour.” he hangs up the phone in urgency.

“get your stuff y/n we have to leave. now.” he hurries you, your sobs coming to a stop slowly as panic sets in “w-wait what’s going on” you sniffle as you follow him upstairs “i’ll explain later, transports gonna be here in half an hour hurry” he firmly says, but the urgency in his voice gives you the instinct to pack up and go.

he gathers his own items before dropping them downstairs , making his way up to you as he knocks on your door “come in” you chime as he makes his way in, “how close are you to being ready” he asks , leaning on your doorway as you push your last suitcase toward him “now, but can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?” you question as he takes your suitcases and bags , leading you downstairs “there’s a car out the front get in and i’ll explain to you there, we don’t have time we need to go”

you get into the car, saying hello to the random driver as you buckle yourself in, hearing the trunk close before niki jumps into the seat beside you.

“now y/n, don’t panic okay” he starts to trail off

“your dad was assassinated by the people that want to take over his company, this was the whole reason i was sent to take care of you in the first place, now they are coming after you as your the next person in line to take over as the next CEO. they are already on their way to find you, most likely more than half way as it’s not that difficult to track people down anymore.”

the seriousness in his voice concerns you the slightest “what the fuck?” your face shows utter shock.

“i know” he sighs “i’ve already booked us flights to japan” he leans back in the car seat , man spreading in search of comfort. “sorry what?” you blurt out “i don’t even speak the tiniest of japanese” you raise your concern. “i know, but i do” he raises a brow as you give him a look of confusion

“y/n im japanese,i was born there.” he laughs, as you nod and form a small ‘ohh’ understanding his idea a bit more. “we’re gonna stay in Okayama where i was born, trust me we will be safe there okay?” he says as he reaches for a bottle of water from the cup holder “niki i’ve known you for barley 3 weeks and you expect me to ‘run away’ with you?” you say quietly. “it’s my job y/n i am here to look after you. i can promise you i’m not some creepy freak that’s kidnapping you, it’s for your safety ” he adds a small joke to a serious matter, you seem to relax a bit at that.

arriving to the airport, he hands you a mask and gestures for you to put it on, you need to keep your identity hidden until your out of south korea.

the two of you make it through checkin and security with ease, and begin to roam to the international terminal. “sorry to bother but im lowkey hungry” you tap him on the shoulder. “that’s okay, there’s a cafe just there we can go get something?” he says pointing around the corner as you nod, leading you over to the cafe. you grab a drink and 2 hash browns to snack on, you reach into your pocket to grab your card but as you look up you see that niki had already payed for you. “niki.. you don’t have to pay for me” you shove him lightly and he only chuckles at you “its fine y/n ,let’s go to the gate” your heart warms at his sweet gestures.

maybe he wasn’t so cold after all? the geniune care and thought in his gestures make your doubt of him ever showing any feeling to you wash away.

though y/n needs to keep her feelings in check, no matter how strong they may be. the reality is, he’s just there to do his job, not someone she can let her heart run away with, or can she? but the feeling of finally seeing niki’s warm hearted side envelopes her in her thoughts. would she ever know he’s thinking the same?

boarding the plane as the attendant tells you to turn left, you look at him in confusion “oh yeah i booked us business class” he laughs as he ushers you forward. “ki” the nickname slips out of your mouth and goes straight to his heart, he feels like he could melt into a puddle right infront of you.

sitting down on the comfy seats next to each other , making small talk as the flight fills. doubt starts to set into you, and your mind runs a million miles per hour and niki can see it on your face. “what’s wrong?” he leans forward to take a better look at you in an attempt to read your expression better.

“ nothing , it’s just what if they find us in japan? y’know what if we’re not safe niki” you turn to face him, “y/n i can promise you we will be okay, im gonna do whatever it takes, i’ll take good care of you” he pushes the strands of your hair behind your ear as you smile at him.

you relax a bit more, after takeoff you find yourself in an attempt to ponder off to sleep, but you just can’t so you opt to just rest your eyes for a while knowing you may have a big day ahead of you.

on the other hand he can’t help but think about how he’s been holding onto his feelings for a while now, wanting to confess but unsure if it’s the right time. there’s a part of him that wonders if she sees him the same way or if it would just complicate everything between them, his doubt lingers making him hesitate, but the urge to be honest with her grows stronger with every conversation the two of you share.

until he finally gains courage speaks up “y/n” his settled voice slightly startles your tired self but you hum at him, gesturing him to continue on. “this might sound crazy but just listen to me please” he asks for reassurance and you nod

“y/n i’ve liked you since the day i layed eyes on you, every conversation we have, every time we laugh together i can’t help but love it. i know your in a crazy situation right now and i promise im never going to let anything bad ever happen to you. i’ll do whatever it takes to prove that i can keep you safe y/n, hell we can even stay in japan for the rest of our lives if you want too y/n im willing to try” the loving words that leave his mouth have you in shock for a second or so, and your heart races in your chest at the sudden confession

“niki..” you trail off, “but what about your job?” you question “ i would quit in a heartbeat for you, we can both start fresh, please give it a chance” his voice is so sincere.

you think for a moment, your dad got assassinated your mom has probably fled for good and people are after you big time, you realise how you may have little to nothing good left back in korea, and the opposed risks of going back truly frighten you and the opportunity of a fresh start with a lot less risk is something you can’t afford to not take up and the offer really sparks up your brain.

fuck it let’s do it.

“you know what” you breath, and niki’s face brightens a bit “ yes, only if you really want too niki ill start fresh and give you a chance” you look into his eyes for assurance and he can’t help but smile so brightly at you pulling you in for a quick kiss, he feels like your smile lightened up the whole entire plane. “ i’m gonna take good care of you y/n i promise” he says in a warm voice as his thumb caresses your cheek gently.

the two of you land in japan, and you immediately feel so much more free and relaxed as niki communicates to the airport staff for you as you can’t speak japanese, though you find that utterly attractive but anyways. collecting your luggage and making you way out of the airport before catching transport to his home town.

the feeling of this once in a life time opportunity is so beautiful to you, a fresh start in a new country. you prepare to meet niki’s family the next day as a surprise and can’t help but feel nervous alongside excitement to meet new people.

meeting his family went extremely well, they took a strong really liking to you and you bonded so well with his siblings. also slowly starting to pick up the basics of japanese as niki gives you occasional lessons when needed otherwise you both communicate in korean any other time.

two years pass and you can’t be any more thankful for the opportunity of a fresh start, you haven’t had any opposed threats so far and seem to be un reachable from the people after you back in korea. and the thing your most grateful for?

you and niki got engaged.

#enhypen #kpop #enhypen thoughts #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #ni ki #enhypen x reader #slow burn #ceo #fbi #japan #assasination #i’ll take good care of you

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wondergirlsthings · 3 days ago

Text

A Dinner Date Turned Trio with Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Carlos had been planning this date night for weeks. After an exhausting race weekend, he wanted nothing more than to spend a quiet, romantic evening with you. He picked out a cozy, upscale restaurant overlooking the marina—just the kind of place where you could both relax, talk, and enjoy each other’s company.

You arrived hand-in-hand, Carlos looking effortlessly dashing in a tailored jacket, and you feeling radiant in your favorite outfit. As the host led you to your table, Carlos squeezed your hand and leaned in to whisper, “This is all for you, mi amor.”

The evening was shaping up to be perfect… until you spotted Charles Leclerc sitting at a nearby table, casually waving at the two of you with a cheeky grin.

“Oh no,” Carlos muttered under his breath.

“Is that Charles?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Carlos replied, rubbing his temple. “I told him about this place last week. I didn’t think he’d actually come here today.”

Charles was already standing, making his way over to your table with the confidence of someone who knew he was about to cause chaos. “Carlos! Y/N! What a coincidence!”

Carlos gave him a look. “Really, Charles? A coincidence?”

Charles smirked, ignoring the jab. “I was just about to finish my dessert, but since you’re here, why don’t I join you for a bit?”

Before Carlos could protest, Charles had pulled up a chair. You bit your lip, trying not to burst out laughing at Carlos’s increasingly annoyed expression.

“So,” Charles began, looking between the two of you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “how’s the most beautiful couple on the grid?”

“We were great,” Carlos replied dryly, “until you showed up.”

“Oh, come on,” Charles said, grinning. “You love me, Sainz. And I’m sure Y/N doesn’t mind.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “It’s fine, Carlos. Let him stay for a little while. He’s clearly lonely.”

Charles feigned a wounded look. “Lonely? I’ll have you know I’m here with friends. But they’re boring, so I decided to grace you two with my presence instead.”

Carlos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This was supposed to be a date night.”

“And it still is!” Charles said cheerfully, flagging down a waiter. “Except now it’s a date night with a bonus—you, me, and Charles.”

The rest of the evening turned out to be surprisingly fun. Charles, despite his uninvited presence, kept the mood light with his endless jokes and stories from the paddock. By the time dessert arrived, even Carlos had loosened up, laughing along with you and Charles as you teased him about his overly meticulous race preparations.

As the three of you walked out of the restaurant, Charles clapped Carlos on the back. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Carlos shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Next time, I’m picking a place you don’t know about.”

Charles winked. “Good luck with that.”

You slipped your hand into Carlos’s, leaning against him as you walked to the car. “Admit it—you’d miss him if he wasn’t around.”

Carlos chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Maybe. But don’t tell him that.”

And as Charles called out another joke from across the parking lot, the three of you burst into laughter, the night ending on a note of unexpected joy.

#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x yn #carlos sainz x reader #Carlos sainz x charles leclerc #Carlos sainz #Charles Leclerc

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goldfades · 5 hours ago

Note

i definitely think that hard launch - joe burrow should become a series!!!!

i wanna see the parts on what exactly happened the night they met, their first kiss, first time, everythingggg

★ FIRST KISS

❪ for my kelce sister x joe burrow series ❫

─ warnings | first kiss stuff!!! just a fluffy little blurb to start off my series

─ ev's notes | guys, i have so many fics already written for this series, i just need to edit and they'll be out!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

It had been an easy kind of night, the kind that unfolded naturally, without the weight of expectations or the pressure of anything more than just being in each other’s presence.

The two of you had ended up at his place after a late dinner, neither ready to say goodnight just yet. It wasn’t unusual—some nights stretched longer than they should have, conversations spilling past reasonable hours, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave.

You weren’t sure when hanging out alone with Joe had stopped feeling like something casual, when the ease of your friendship had started carrying a different kind of tension underneath. Maybe it had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break through.

You were on the couch, half-curled into the corner, feet tucked under you. Joe sat next to you, his long legs stretched out, one arm resting lazily along the back of the couch. A game had been on earlier, but neither of you had been paying much attention to it. The conversation had drifted from football to music to a bunch of random, inconsequential things.

Then, somehow, you started laughing.

It had been over something so unbelievably stupid—something Joe had said in passing, something you had responded to in a way that sent you both into a downward spiral of uncontrollable laughter. It was the kind that snuck up on you, the kind that made your stomach ache and your face hurt.

Joe had tipped his head back, shoulders shaking, laughing so hard he could barely get a breath in. And you? You had collapsed into the cushions, gasping between giggles, barely able to sit up straight.

“Stop,” you wheezed, pressing a hand to your face, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m not even doing anything,” Joe shot back, grinning, but even as he said it, he let out another breathless laugh.

You turned to him then, still laughing, still breathless, and that’s when it happened. It was subtle, that shift. The kind that sneaks up on you, the kind you don’t notice until it’s already too late.

You were both still smiling, still catching your breath—but suddenly, the air felt different.

You weren’t thinking about the joke anymore. You weren’t thinking about anything except the way Joe was looking at you, the way his laughter had softened into something quieter, something almost thoughtful.

Your breathing slowed.

Joe’s eyes flickered down—just for a second—to your lips.

It was fast. Barely noticeable. But you noticed.

Your heart thudded against your ribs.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was you. Maybe it didn’t even matter.

Because one moment, you were just sitting there, too close, still grinning, still catching your breath—and the next, his lips were on yours.

Soft. Warm. Gentle, at first, like neither of you wanted to shatter the moment, like you were both hesitating at the edge of something unspoken.

The taste of laughter still lingered between you, the remnants of whatever joke had led you here, but now, it felt like something else entirely. Something heavier. Something real.

Joe’s hand found your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make your fingers tighten against his chest.

And then—just as quickly as it started—you pulled back, gasping for air. But neither of you moved far.

Your forehead rested against his, noses brushing, and when you opened your eyes, Joe was already looking at you.

There was something in his gaze—something unreadable but intense, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You could speak. You could laugh it off, pretend like it hadn’t just changed everything.

But you didn’t.

Because Joe didn’t move away.

And neither did you.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #kelce!sister x joey b

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joocomics · 21 hours ago

Text

ಬ cross the line: part two

read part one here

pairing: professor!soobin x student!fem!reader

genre: smut — 18+ wc: 3.1k

summary: an accidental peek at your phone causes a shift in the way your professor behaves in your presence which results into the two of you facing your perverse nature

contains: university au, switch!soobin, soft!dom!reader, car sex, exhibitionism kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, brief orgasm control, handjob (m!rec), size kink (big dick!soobin), creampie, light choking (m!rec)

[ txt masterlist | general masterlist ]

Today you skipped classes.

Skipping isn’t something you do unless you’re not feeling well or something urgent comes up… or unless it’s your best friend’s birthday. You have a whole program planned for the day which consists of things the two of you do every year on this special day. It’s a tradition you stick to and take very seriously no matter how old you get.

After dinner you pre-game with the rest of your friends at her place and afterwards all of you head to her favorite club.

Around an hour later, as you blend in with the crowd to dance under the flashing lights, you notice the last person you expect to run into at any night club really - your professor Choi Soobin. He’s wearing a black buttoned up shirt, nothing new you haven’t seen him wear before, but you're surprised to notice that he's not wearing his usual glasses.

It’s kind of funny that you see him here since today you were supposed to have lectures with him. Instead of hiding as some may do if they find themselves in this situation, you decide to say hi.

There’s no harm in doing so, right?

“I'll be right back.” You tell your friend after you drop her hand to follow after him.

Not a minute later, you're standing next to each other at the bar. You wait for him to finish ordering before announcing your presence.

“Hi.”

Soobin's eyes flicker with surprise when he turns around. For a short moment he’s tongue-tied.

“Hi.” He smiles - a small, polite and a little bit coy curve of his lips. “Enjoying your night?”

“A lot,” you smile back, “it's my best friend's birthday.”

“Really?” He exclaims. “It's one of my friend's birthday too.”

“Sweet.” You chuckle as the usual formality between you slowly melts away.

He looks different without his glasses, you notice; his features are sharper and somehow more striking in the dim flickering lights of the club. His attractive face has a slight glow that keeps you staring, and his usually neatly done hairstyle is a bit untidy, but those details only make him even more appealing to the eyes.

“Does your friend's birthday have something to do with you missing classes today?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning in a bit to compete with the pulsing music.

The question doesn't come off awkward though, his tone sounds more casual than you're used to.

“Yeah, it does,” you reply with slightly nervous laugh. “You’re not going to hold it against me, are you?”

Unintentionally or not, you end up locking eyes. Soobin's smile widens slightly before he looks away first.

“I'll let it slide.”

There's an undeniable tension between the two of you though. You can't pinpoint its exact nature yet, but it's there, reminding you of your last encounter, especially as the conversation trails off and you start wondering if you should make your exit.

“I'm sorry if I made things awkward between us the other day.” You speak up at once.

“No, no…” Soobin immediately shakes his head, staring back down at the sparkling counter. “Don't worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, and uhm...” he pauses for a second, trying to form his words properly. “It will stay just between us.”

“Thank you.” You smile with appreciation. You doubt he’d ever tell anyone about what you do online, but it’s still good to hear him confirm that your secret is safe with him. “I would never cross the line and put your career at risk.”

Soobin peers into your eyes, trying to figure you out, but he seems to keep failing. All he can see into your shiny gaze is an irresistible temptation making it a challenge for him not to risk it all first... right there and then.

The bartender brings his orders and pretty much saves Soobin from blurting out something he might regret afterwards. He cannot allow his intrusive thoughts to win again. Eventually, what he ends up saying is still just as risky as the rest of them though.

“Will I see you around?”

“Maybe,” you chirp playfully; the slightly dubious tone of his voice excites you.

“Do you have a ride home? I can drive you.” He asks with a soft grin, provoked by your teasing. After noticing your eyebrow raise, he adds to assure you: “I don’t drink.”

So without much consideration, you agree, and few hours later you meet at the parking lot. This is definitely not how you expected your night to end; neither did your professor Choi Soobin.

“Thank you so much for the ride.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and take a look at Soobin. “You're the best professor l've ever had, do you know that?”

“I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before.” He glances down at his lap; slight heat rises to his cheeks.

“You are,” you assure him. Your voice goes lower as you take a second to admire his side profile; to enjoy his clumsy attempts at hiding his flusteredness from you.

Then you lean closer, breathing in the musky aroma of his cologne; it's mixed with a sharp scent of cigarette smoke, and despite not being a smoker you still enjoy it. It reminds you of the fact that you finally have him in your hands - outside the usual university building where all he thinks about is work and strict rules and confidentiality.

He's not the all-knowing professor anymore, he's just... Soobin.

“You...” Soobin murmurs, but his train of thought fades away as you're now centimetres apart. You limit the distance between you rapidly and it's not in his ability to prevent it.

“Me? What about me?” You ask as your noses almost touch.

The air inside the car grows thicker, hotter, and Soobin struggles to swallow as he feels a warm pressure bubbling up. His hand moves to caress the side of your face that he’s staring at with half-lidded eyes.

“You’re so pretty.”

“Choi Soobin,” you gasp through a whisper that turns into a soft sinister giggle. The satisfaction you get from his weakness is evident in the way your glossy lips curl as you rub circles on his chest. “This is inappropriate.”

“I know,” he sighs, turning his head in the other direction.

You're quick to grip his jaw though. Your nails sink into his cheeks and you keep them there until he’s looking into your lustful eyes.

“You never told me to stop. Are you going to do it now?”

As you anticipate a response, your hand travels lower till it reaches his belt. You ghost over his crotch, pleased to find out he's growing hard because of your attention.

“No,” Soobin shakes his head almost like he's defeated. His next words come out rushed. “I can't tell you to stop, I don't want to.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, rubbing the tent in his jeans.

Your gaze drops to his lap once his big hand moves on top of yours; it puts some pressure as his hips simultaneously jerk upwards like an invitation; like a sign of pleading. For some reason, hearing him straight up say the obvious still surprises you.

“You.” He utters and his airy voice softens as he repeats it one more time.

“Mmm…” you humm delighted then unzip his jeans to free him. “It's fun crossing the line with you, Choi Soobin.”

You almost cuss from how amazed you are by his size when you see it.

He's long and thick; heavy as you embrace it in your grip. The look of the nice girth alone makes you swallow down whimpers, it’s so arousing; a perfect fit for every possible fantasy you can think of.

“I've never seen one like this...” You admit as you twirl your fist around his thick base with precision; slowly so you can enjoy the feel of it. “Soo big and heavy…”

Unintentionally, Soobin’s mind fogs up with memories of your sopping wet pussy. The idea of you possibly struggling to fit him inside makes him shudder pleasantly.

You spit inside your palm. You want to make your motions smoother and easier so you make sure to spread the moisture evenly before you tease his tip.

The moment you drag your fist Soobin takes your face in his hands and kisses you.

The kiss is slow at first, testing as he’s heedful of your reaction. His lips move cautiously against yours, making you feel like you’re going to melt.

You're already so enticed by him that when the first groan of pleasure slips through his mouth it’s like butterflies burst out into your tummy. You keep circling the sensitive spot that seems to double the sensation, wanting to get more sounds out of him. Simultaneously you sneak your tongue in between his lips, rolling it around his own to deepen the kiss.

Encouraged by the fist he forms in your hair, you quicken your dominant hand while aiming for a powerfully steady rhythm.

“How does it feel, hm?” You ask when his lips detach from yours at once.

Lightheaded, Soobin takes a second to respond as his breathing catches up.

“So good,” he breathes out then almost goes speechless from the way you pull on his bottom lip with your teeth. “It feels soo good... fuck—“

“You never told me if you enjoyed peeking at my porn.” You say casually before chuckling at his short, quick whimper. You drastically change the speed and Soobin quivers. “How much did my professor actually see from behind my shoulder? I'm curious.”

It’s true, you want to know so bad, and you want to hear it in details, but you know the chance to get such is low. Soobin would be too nervous to share and it’s not like he’s calm enough to talk properly right now.

Your gentle palm squeezes his balls as your lips trace their way up to his ear. He grunts at the tickling sensation meanwhile his hand keeps roaming around your thigh, not having any specific direction because he’s losing more and more control over his own actions.

“I want to know, tell me.” You pout, dropping his cock and backing away.

Soobin sighs, completely dismissing the question when he realises you’re exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes, widening, move in different directions as you tug down the small straps of your dress; his pupils dilate excitedly once he lays attention on the arousing shape of your breasts, the hardened tips of your nipples. He’s staring at you like he’s still trying to accept the fact that this is actually happening.

When you drag your skirt up to your waist is when he starts murmuring an answer.

“I saw you briefly scrolling through your account… nothing more.” Soobin’s hands reach out to get a hold of your waist as you straddle him in the small space. He breathes heavily as you both adjust before he grips his cock to glide his swollen tip against your folds, feeling how wet you are. “And the video y-you…” his voice struggles as he finally bumps into your small squelching entrance. “... just a second from the video you showed me.”

“Soobin—“ you whine quietly from the sudden strech; it feels thrilling with a hint of sweet pain as your tight walls try to accept more than just the head of his dick.

“But I’ve been thinking of you way before that… shit—“

You really want to focus on what he’s saying, but it’s difficult when you’re in the middle of experiencing such strong sensation.

Another inch enters you and you whimper overwhelmingly, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Fuck, it hurts!”

“Slowly, okay,” Soobin whispers in a rush against your open mouth; hands digging into your flesh to control your movements up and down; to control how much of him you should take before you drop all the way down. “It will get easier, keep going… just like this.”

Flushed, flesh to flesh, the two of you begin to feel how you easen up around him. Your gummy walls welcome him more comfortably, pulsing with desire against his veiny girth.

Your head falls forward as the euphoria begins to race through your veins with each deeper gliding of his cock.

“Good,” Soobin’s hot breath brushes against your face; forehead pressed against yours as you drown in the dim streaks of street lights. “Stay like this for me…”

You love teasing him with your dirty talk, and you expected to tease him even more after seeing him get fucked out so quickly, but you can’t deny… the way he speaks at you like this is giving you a real buzz.

“Taking me so well,” he whispers against your heated forehead; placing the praise like a kiss.

The cautious moves of his hips result in his tip meeting your cervix gently; the sweet thrill makes you grind against him for more though, clenching at his shirt with your hands. In the meantime, his grip on your ass eases up, eventually crawling onto both sides of your swaying hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ Soobin’s groans fly out of his mouth one by one, faster than before to indicate the rapid rise of his arousal. “Such a good pussy, fuck.”

You feel his secure grip strengthening again as you quicken your motions. Now that the pain is gone, you can focus on the new flow of blissful pleasure while regaining your previous control.

“You know,” you speak up for the first time in a while as you build on the good rhythm, “I get all kinds of messages and comments, but… nothing can compare to this.”

Soobin’s weakening gaze alternates between your eyes and lips, hypnotised by the appeal you radiate. You’re incredibly tight around him, just like he imagined you’d be, and he cherishes every pulse and drag of your gummy walls.

Something inside his chest flutters as he registers your words; he likes the idea of being the one to bring you the most memorable pleasure.

“You like how it feels?” His hands crawl up your back, and when you nod in agreement, they move to cup your boobs. “Then keep going, make yourself feel good, baby.”

“Soobin…” Your eyes roll back from the growing stimulation; it’s coming from so many different places including his fingertips sinking into your plush breasts. “… love your cock so m-much—“

Your clit rubs nicely against him, enhancing the arousal as you move back and forth like you do so often on your pillow.

“It’s so deep inside me…”

“Yeah, pretty,” Soobin groans in sync with you the moment you speed up with new type of greed. “Ride it, just like that.”

And at this certain moment, he realises that he’s putting your pleasure over his own.

“I want to feel how this pretty pussy is gonna cum around my cock,” he murmurs in bliss. “Use it, baby.”

“Yeah?” You sigh the moment your lips slide up with excitement. “Are you letting me use it as one of my toys?”

“I am,” Soobin answers without hesitation. His hands slip down to rest at your hips that slow down a bit.

You were not expecting such quick reply from him and your eyes concentrate on his face. Your one hand presses against the car window as you lift yourself up a little.

“Gonna let me bounce on it for as long as I want? Whenever I want?”

“Shit—“ Soobin’s deep voice trembles in a tone you’ve never heard from his calm voice before. Your entrance, stretched out and clenching, is teasing only the tip of his cock and he cannot bare the sensation as well as he wants. “Yes, pretty, whatever you need…”

Right now, he needs you to sink back down as soon as possible. He's not even on the alert of his surroundings anymore, his mind is preoccupied with you and the relish you cause.

“I’m one lucky girl.” You chuckle through a heavy sigh, swallowing the rest of him once again; the second you grip on the base Soobin’s brows knit together as if he’s struggling from feeling this amazing. “Having such a good smart boy, letting me use him however I like…”

Soon enough, you start to bounce wanting to feel the head of his cock hit your g-spot harder.

Your muscles tense, forcing you up and down as you hold onto Soobin’s shoulder with your free hand which eventually shifts around his neck. Cautiously, you apply just enough amount of pressure to excite him. The moment you tighten your grip, his on your lower waist tightens too.

You feel his adam's apple moving as he gulps before his mouth remains wide open in awe; allowing a chain of throaty moans to escape and cloud up your mind with their arousing tune. They mix with the lewd sounds of your ass crashing against his lap and overpower your panting.

Soobin's eyes, dazed and dark with lust, slowly make their way to your scrunching face though they can barely focus on just one spot as everything about you fascinates him.

“Fuck, I'm—” Your whimper interrupts your speech as your knees are close to giving up; but stopping isn't something you're considering, not when you can tell something is about to burst inside him too. “I'm so close!”

Another memory invades Soobin's mind - you moaned the same thing in that video of yours, but the thrill from hearing it now, in person, because you're getting off on his cock cannot compare.

“Cum around me, please,” he suddenly grips your wrist; not to easen up your hand around his neck, but simply to have something to hold onto. “Please, I want to feel you.”

“I want to feel you too...” You say breathlessly, “cum with me, okay?”

Soobin nods before shutting his eyes with a desperate squeeze.

“Hold it,” you utter in a rush while doing the same as your peak approaches more and more, “hold it and cum with m-me...”

Each bounce you make is sloppier than the previous, but the rush is stronger than ever, possessing both of you in overwhelming waves.

The knot of pleasure snaps inside you, making you cry out in the silence of Soobin's car. You ride out your orgasm, quivering with your head thrown back, and you continue the motions as his own climax takes over his body seconds later.

Despite the amazing feeling that settles inside you with the aftermath of your orgasm there's also the feeling that leaves you still hungry for more. This can't be the first and last time you're doing this... You can only hope it won't be.

There’s a part of you that wants to make a mess of Choi Soobin, because you can, and another because it seems like he hasn’t let anyone do such thing to him before; you don’t mind taking that unfamiliar, but very compelling role at all.

And then, there's the most obvious reason of all - you're head over heels for him. And there’s no going back after this.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#— writing: txt #txt smut #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #tomorrow x together smut #soobin smut #soobin x reader #soobin hard hours

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bibibahngg · 22 hours ago

Text

【ｅｖｅｒｙｔｈｉｎｇ　ｉ　ｄｉｄｎ'ｔ　ｓａｙ.】

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚pairing: kim seungmin x reader ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖summary: overwhelmed by unrequited love and loneliness, you find an unexpected comfort in kim seungmin, who shows you what love really feels like. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚warnings/genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn(???), mentions of some sensitive topics (family struggles, loneliness, etc.), but it ends with happy ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖notes: this is my first requested fic :)) i hope this fits what you were looking for @yaniluvs!!! english isnt my first language so, there might be some grammar issues or something like that, but enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

falling for your best friend was probably the worst thing you'd ever done to yourself. it hurt, and in the slow, aching kind of way that crept into your chest late at night and refused to leave. after years of sharing secrets, laughing over inside jokes, and being the person they always turned to, your heart had decided to betray you.

and now? now, it was hell.

you didn't mean to get jealous when they talked about their crushes. you really didn't. but every time they lit up talking about someone else, that ugly, clawing feeling curled around your chest, squeezing it tight. you hated it. hated the way it made you feel like a bad friend. hated the way you kept waiting for them to notice the way you looked at them, even though you knew they wouldn't. hated the way you loved them, because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself it was just a phase, it wasn't.

worst of all, you hated how much it made you realize how starved you were for love.

you tried not to think about it too much, but it was always there, sitting in the back of your mind like an unwelcome guest. growing up, love had never been something you could count on. not from your family, at least. your mom had tried her best, sure, but she couldn't carry the weight of everything alone. and when your best friend came along, it felt like you'd finally found what you'd been missing. someone who chose you.

but now that you wanted more, it was unbearable.

you knew it wasn't fair to feel this way, and you hated how frustrated and tired it made you. but you couldn't just shut it off.

so, naturally, the universe decided it was the perfect time to partner you with kim seungmin for that science project. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

working with seungmin wasn't exactly awful. it wasn't like he was mean or anything. just… the kind of person who didn't waste time on unnecessary words or gestures. he wasn't rude, but he wasn't friendly either, which made things feel a little tense between the two of you.

you weren't sure what you'd done to deserve being partnered with the human embodiment of a blank excel spreadsheet, but here you were, staring at seungmin's perfectly organized notes while he quietly ignored you.

"so", you said finally, breaking the silence, "do you ever, like… have fun?"

seungmin's fingers paused over his laptop keyboard. he tilted his head slightly, like he was considering your question, before glancing up at you with a completely blank expression. "define fun."

you blinked. "uh… like hanging out with friends? doing something exciting? not spending your entire life on schoolwork?"

"i play sudoku", he said flatly, turning back to his laptop.

"oh, wow. wild of you", you deadpanned, leaning back in your chair.

his lips twitched, just barely. you couldn't tell if it was the start of a smile or if he was trying to hold in a laugh, but either way, it was the closest thing to emotion you'd seen from him all week.

"what about you?" he asked suddenly, his voice calm and measured. "what do you do for fun?"

the question caught you off guard. "uh…" you hesitated, realizing that you didn't really have an answer. what did you do for fun anymore?

seungmin’s gaze flicked toward you, and you felt strangely exposed under his scrutiny. like he could see right through you.

"you don't know, do you..?" he asked, his tone neutral but his words cutting straight to the point.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you shot back, feeling defensive.

he shrugged, turning back to his laptop. you rolled your eyes, annoyed but also unable to shake the feeling that he was right. despite his frustratingly blunt demeanor, seungmin wasn't as heartless as he seemed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you started noticing it in the little things. the way he'd quietly push a bottle of water toward you during late night study sessions, even though he never said a word about it. or the way he'd adjust the desk lamp so it wasn't shining directly in your eyes.

he never called attention to it, always brushing it off if you tried to thank him. "it's not a big deal," he’d say, his voice calm and detached. but it was a big deal to you. especially when everything else in your life felt like it was falling apart.

it kinda felt like your best friend had started pulling away lately, caught up in their own life and their own relationships. you couldn't blame them, not really, but it still stung, in a way. especially with your feelings towards them. and things at home weren't any better. the tension between you and the rest of your family seemed to be growing thicker by the day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it was seungmin who noticed first.

"you seem off", he said one afternoon, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

you looked up from your notes, startled. "what?" "you're distracted. you've been distracted all week." you opened your mouth to deny it, but the words got stuck in your throat. he was right. you had been distracted. exhausted. frustrated. and right now, it felt impossible to hide it anymore.

"it's nothing", you mumbled, looking away.

seungmin didn't say anything for a long moment, and you thought he was going to drop it. but then, quietly, he asked, "do you want to talk about it?", his voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it caught you completely off guard.

"why do you care?", you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

he didn't answer right away. when he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm. "cause you look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and someone should care."

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and the river of tears that you'd been holding back for so long finally broke.

it started small. just a shaky inhale and the prickle of tears stinging behind your eyes. you tried to hold it back, to swallow it all down like you always did, but this time, it refused to stay buried. the tears spilled over, uninvited, and you quickly turned your face away, swiping at your cheeks in a futile attempt to stop.

"hey," seungmin said softly. his voice was quiet, steady, not the least bit judgmental. "it's okay. don't… don't do that."

you sniffled, still refusing to meet his gaze. "don't do what?"

"don't try to hide it." his words were firm, but there was a gentleness to them that made your throat tighten even more. "just let it out."

you wanted to argue with him. wanted to say that you were fine, that he didn't need to worry about you, but the lump in your throat was too big to ignore. before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out.

"i'm just so tired, seungmin." your voice cracked as you spoke, and the floodgates opened. "of everything. my stupid family, my stupid feelings, my stupid self."

you took a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself, but the words kept tumbling out, raw and unfiltered.

"i feel like… like i'm always the one giving. to everyone. my mom, my best friend, even random people who don't deserve it, and no one ever gives back. no one sees me like that, y'know? like i matter. and i keep telling myself that it's fine, that i shouldn't expect anything, but… but sometimes i do. i just want someone to look at me and care. really care. and it's selfish, and i hate feeling this way, but-"

"it's not selfish."

you stopped short, startled by the sudden firmness in his voice. when you finally looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears, he was leaning forward, his arms resting on the table, his gaze fixed intently on you.

"..you're allowed to want that," he continued, his tone calm but unwavering. "you're allowed to want to feel loved. to want someone to care about you the way you care about everyone else."

you opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he didn't understand, but he didn't give you the chance.

"and if no one else has told you this, then let me be the first. you deserve that," he said. his voice softened, and there was something tender in the way he said the words. "you deserve to be cared for. to be loved. you don't have to do everything on your own."

for a moment, all you could do was sit there, staring at him as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

"why are you being so nice to me?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

his lips quirked, just slightly, in something that wasn't quite a smile. "maybe because i care", he said simply, his eyes never leaving yours.

something about the way he said it. so calm, so certain. it made the tightness in your chest loosen, just a little.

you didn't know how long you sat there, spilling your heart out to seungmin, but by the time you were done, the sun was already starting to dip below the horizon, casting the room in a soft, golden glow.

"feel better?", he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.

you nodded, still a little embarrassed but feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

"good.", he leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "now eat something. you've been running on fumes all day."

"are you always this bossy?" you shot back, but there was no bite to your words.

he shrugged, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smile. "only when i'm right."

and as much as you hated to admit it, he really was right. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it was a just some tuesday evening when everything finally came to ahead.

it had been a while since you started working with seungmin. at first, you thought he was just some quiet, overly serious guy who barely tolerated your presence. but over time, you realized that wasn't true at all. he was observant, reliable in ways you hadn't expected, and despite his occasional teasing, he always seemed to know when you needed someone to just be there.

somewhere along the way, your feelings for your best friend had started to fade. not all at once, but slowly. like an old wound finally healing without you noticing. you still cared about them, of course, but that painful ache, that longing for something more? it wasn't quite there anymore.

what was there, though, was the quiet warmth that crept in whenever you were around seungmin.

you were sitting on the floor of his dorm room, surrounded by textbooks and empty snack wrappers. he was scrolling through his laptop, frowning slightly at the screen, when you said it.

"i think i like you."

you hadn't planned on saying confessing. the words just slipped out, quiet but certain. and for a while, they just hung in the air between the two of you.

seungmin froze, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. slowly, he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable.

"what?" he asked finally, his voice quiet.

"i said i think i like you", you repeated, your heart pounding in your chest. "and i don't just mean as a friend. i mean… more than that."

for a long moment, he didn't say anything. you could feel your stomach twisting into knots, the silence unbearable, until finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"you're just realizing this now?" he asked, his tone dry but his ears bright red.

you blinked. "wait, what?"

he let out a quiet huff, almost like a laugh, and leaned back against the wall. "i've liked you for weeks. maybe longer."

your heart stumbled over itself, the weight of his words sinking in slowly, "why didn't you say anything?"

he shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "i didn't think you were ready."

you stared at him, completely floored. "you've been waiting for me to figure it out this whole time?"

"pretty much", he said simply.

"you're ridiculous", you muttered, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved into a smile.

"maybe", he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "but so are you."

he smiled back, his eyes soft and full of something you couldn't quite put into words.

and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

it wasn't a big, dramatic confession. there were no grand gestures, no sweeping declarations of love. but as seungmin leaned forward, resting his hand lightly over yours, you realized that it didn't have to be.

sometimes, the quiet moments were the ones that meant the most.

and this moment was everything. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ a/n: literally did this in like?? 3 days?? i think i was a little bit excited guys.. js the tiniest bit.. i fear my most used app this week is tumblr... never happened to me before because what..??????? butt i hope u guys enjoyed reading especially u yani!!!!11!1 ok ty bye bye!

#bibi writes #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x you #skz angst #stray kids angst #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #kim seungmin x you #seungmin angst #kim seungmin angst #seungmin comfort #kim seungmin comfort

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crowsofdarkness · 2 days ago

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Dorogaya: Chapter Two

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader.

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: It has been a few years since Bucky and Reader went into hiding. Just when they thought they were slowly building a life together, the past comes back with a vengeance.

Authors Note: This is the sequel to Soldat! You should read that series first. This takes place during Civil War. Tags are open if anyone is interested!

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl @cats-chaotic-mind @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @pumpkin-babydoll @ordelixx @starfly-nicole

Soldat Masterlist | Dorogaya Masterlist

Whoever created the saying ‘you can cut the tension with a knife’ had never been more wrong. Someone would need a power saw to cut the tension between Bucky and I. After the little disagreement we had, we both went to sleep with our backs turned towards each other. It was well into the morning and not one word had been spoken between us.

Bucky was in the bathroom, getting ready for our market trip, while I was standing at the counter with my back turned towards the bathroom and making a list of everything we needed. Despite the bad end to my night, I had managed to make decent money at work so we were able to buy more than usual.

Sensing Bucky’s warmth behind me, I continued to ignore him as I double counted the money. It became incredibly hard to ignore him when his scent filled my nose, sending chills throughout my body. We stood shoulder to shoulder as he looked over some of his knives before pocketing them.

“You haven’t brought your knives with you in almost a year,” I spoke softly.

He shrugged and I felt him slip one into my back pocket. His hand lingered for a quick second before pulling away.

“I have a weird feeling.” He admitted.

Bucky went to walk away but I placed a hand on his broad chest to stop him. His eyes looked into my own and I could sense the disappointment lingering off of him.

“I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’ve been so upset with what Hydra did to me that I forgot for a second of what you went through. It was wrong of me to be so ‘woe is me’ when you’re going through the same thing; only worse.”

He sighed and placed his flesh hand over mine that was still placed on his chest. He gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have shut you out the way I did. The past few days I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that something is going to happen.”

I looked at him confused. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “We should get going.”

Bucky dropped my hand to place his hat over his head and he went to hand me mine but I declined.

“I think my new hair color is going to be enough of a disguise,” I joked while throwing it up into a messy bun.

“I still can’t believe it changed that quick,” Bucky said.

A large groan left my lips. “I know. I thought about dying it to my original color but who knows that it won’t change back.”

Bucky shrugged. “I kind of like it.”

“Oh you do, huh?”

I could stop the small giggle I let out as the air around us shifted. The anger between us dissipated and was replaced with sexual tension. Bucky closed the distance between us in one large step and his metal fingers tangled in my hair, releasing it around my face.

“I also like it when it’s down,” Bucky mused, his voice getting deeper. “Easier to grab.”

His fingers gently grabbed the back of my skull and pulled my lips closer to his.

Clearing my throat, I tried to think of something to say back. But with the intense sexual feeling that was warming my insides, my brain went to mush. Lust clouded around us, creating a small bubble with only the two of us. We were blocked out from the rest of the world. I stumbled over my words and could feel Bucky’s warm breath fanning over my lips.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

“Yes?”

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words to say. But he wasn’t able to speak because my phone ringing from the counter brought us back to reality. I felt him start to pull away so I gently grabbed his hips.

“I have voicemail,” I reminded him.

He shook his head, embarrassment causing his cheeks to turn red. “It’s okay. We should really get going.”

And suddenly the bubble around us popped.

Letting out a sigh, I reached for my phone. Bucky slipped on his glove over his metal hand so he hadn’t noticed the look of shock on my face when I read the new text message.

Make sure to bring an umbrella today. I’m seeing a chance of rain.

The number may have been unknown but I didn’t matter. I knew who it came from.

“Who was it?” Bucky questioned from behind.

“No one,” I shook my head while pocketing my phone. “Ready?”

Bucky knew I was hiding something but thankfully he decided not to press the issue. We both walked out of the apartment and I suddenly had the same feeling that something was about to happen today.

Something we weren’t prepared for.

Giving the old lady a quick smile of thanks, I placed the bag of apples in the one I had brought from home and looked around for Bucky. He mentioned that he needed to run a personal errand once but that was a while ago. I started to worry that something might have happened to him, especially after receiving the text message earlier.

“Looking for someone?”

Jumping at the deep voice, I looked over my shoulder and smiled at Bucky. “Find what you need?”

He nodded before slowly pulling out a small box from his pocket and handed it towards me. I took it without saying a word and when I opened it, a small gasp left my lips. Inside was a small necklace. A black gem shaped as a circle was in the middle and gold surrounded it.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Happy Birthday.”

My eyes snapped away from the necklace and over to Bucky. His hands were deep in his pockets, something I noticed he did when he was nervous.

“You remembered?”

It was right when we first arrived in Bucharest, one of the earlier nights, we stayed up as he listened to me go on about my life before SHIELD; my childhood, my family, and the time I spent in the FBI and SWAT.

Bucky nodded. “I know it’s not much but it’s all I could afford.”

Immediately shutting him up, I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “It’s absolutely perfect, Bucky. Thank you.”

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I turned my back to him, allowing him to place the necklace on my neck. Bucky’s breath fanned over the back of my neck and chills took over my body. His hands rested on my hips from behind and his soft lips left a kiss on the side of my neck.

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m taking things slow between us. I’m trying to remember how to do all of this.” Bucky admitted with a hushed tone.

“It’s alright. I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.” I leaned my head against his shoulder.

My fingertips played with the necklace and my heart warmed with the thought that Bucky had wanted to get me a present.

Bucky brushed his lips against the side of my head and motioned towards the plum stand that was a few feet in front of us.

“Alright, let’s get some plums then head back home.”

His metal arm wrapped around my shoulder as he led me towards the stand. I remained quiet as I watched Bucky converse with the lady in Romanian, asking if the plums were good today. After he bought five, he looked down at me with a small smile.

“What?” He asked.

“I like it when you speak Romanian,” I admitted while biting my lip.

Suddenly the air around us shifted and Bucky noticed it as well. He pulled me closer to him and looked around the market. His body went rigid with tension and I quickly took the bag of plums from the lady then we both rushed our way home.

We came to a stop as we were getting ready to cross the road, however, Bucky’s eyes landed on a man that was working at a newsstand. The man watched our every movement with fear in his eyes.

“We’ve been made,” Bucky muttered.

My eyes doubled. “What? Are you sure?”

He discreetly nodded towards the man, who now left his stand, and we both crossed out way over to it. Bucky looked around while my eyes went straight to the newspaper from today and what I read on the front page dropped my heart straight to my stomach. Even though I couldn’t read Romanian, the only words I needed to know were Winter Soldier.

“Bucky,” I stammered while showing him the front page. “What does this say?”

“I’m wanted for bombing the U.N in Vienna.”

His heart hammered in his chest and his breath quickened. After he threw the paper back on the stand, he brought me into his chest and started walking back towards our apartment. It was only a few minutes from the market so thankfully we could get out of hiding fast.

“What are we going to do?” I trembled.

“It’s okay,” Bucky reassured me. “Let’s just get home. We’ll figure it out.”

Once we were safely inside the complex, Bucky and I both rushed up the stairs but he came to a quick halt right outside the door. His shoulders went straight and he brought out a knife from his pocket.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s inside,” he muttered nodding towards the door.

“Seriously? Who found out where we live?” I thought mostly towards myself.

Bucky went to go inside but I stepped in front of him to stop him. “Let me go first. Police are looking for you, not me. If they’re inside, I can distract them long enough for you to make a run for it.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, Y/N.”

“I’ll be okay. We’ll meet at that place in the mountains.”

We had a small house up in the mountains that we were using as a safe house in case something like this were to happen. Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, I entered the apartment with the knife clutched hard in my hand. I sensed a body as soon as my feet crossed the threshold and once I saw who exactly was in the apartment, the knife clattered to the ground causing him to turn on his heels, shield drawn high ready to fight.

All of the past feelings slammed into me like a brick wall and even under the mask, I could tell that his face was showing the effects of how tired he was, his eyes shined a little less than they used too.

We stared at each other for a few long moments before he placed the shield on the counter. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

Swallowing the very large lump in my throat, my voice had come out way more shaky than I had intended.

“Steve.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #the winter soldier #marvel #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x agent!reader #james barnes smut #james barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #soldat bucky barnes #dorogaya bucky barnes

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uranometrias · 1 day ago

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you can kiss a hundred boys — sam winchester

→ premise: you, the mostly stable edition to sam & dean's little hunting duo have found yourself the object of all of sam's hopes and dreams. the only problem? you barely seemed to give him a second glance and had a bigger sexual appetite than dean. which meant that night after night, bar after bar, and motel after motel, sam was forced to come to grips with the fact that you were far from interested in reciprocating any sort of feelings he may have been pathetically harboring. or so he thinks.

→ pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: angst w/ resolution, heavy cursing, miscommunication trope? r! + sam both have issues with expressing themselves in healthy ways. sam is just exceptionally jealous + lashing out. r! has abandonment issues. semi love confessions. r! is described to be older than sam (take that as you will). no particular timeline, but set in earlier seasons. heavy making out. allusions and depictions of former sexual activity. no smut (i'm building up to it omg). teasing! dean. r! can kind of be read as alcohol dependant. fluff + happy ending <3

→ a/n: preparing to tackle writing a full length supernatural fic on wattpad within the coming days, and felt it was only right to dip my toes in writing for the fandom just to see if i even have a semblance of a shot of doing justice to this fandom. very very nervous at the attempt, but i hope at least one person winds up enjoying this! i hope i characterized sam well... i'm doing a rewatch of earlier seasons and tried to base this off that. fingers crossed it comes across the way i intended. <3

"And what the hell's gotten into you?" your hand drops to your hip, eyes dancing from Sam long enough to take in Dean who had his lips pursed in the way that told you he was keeping his quips and thoughts to himself. You'd just sidled up to the boys, grin big and eager as you rushed out practiced 'goodnights'. Some guy neither brother (or you for that matter) could be bothered to remember the name of had invited you back to his place, and you'd accepted graciously. After solving a case that went as good as any hunt could, you felt you owed it to yourself to have some fun.

And while the guy in no way looked like the future love of your life, there was no rule that said a girl couldn't have a little fun every once in a while. The only problem now seemed to be that your offerance of a goodbye had been enough to send Sam into a pissy mood. His face was scrunched up in that way that told you he was peeved, and for the very life of you, you couldn't figure out why.

"It's nothing." he reassures, and your eyes narrow, not buying it for even one second. "Have a good night." Sam's eyes are rolling before he can fully get it out, and your looking back at Dean, almost begging him to make things plain. All he does is let an exasperated puff of air fly from his nose as he downs his shot before flagging the bartender down for another one.

"Sammy?" and your head tips to the side, eyes shooting behind you to ensure your date for the night hadn't found someone else to occupy him. "Come on, you know I know something's wrong." you try, because even if you were itching to get laid, you cared about Sam and Dean more. Which meant if he was pissed with you, there was nothing that would stop you from at least attempting to fix it.

"Yeah, well there's not really anything you can do about it, so why don't you just go." and he's stern but not mean. Still, it makes you falter just a step. "You're better at that anyway." and this is grumbled, voice lowered, but you hear it all the same. It makes you scoff, letting out a disbelieving sort of laugh as your lips push out in disinterest.

"Right." and you wring your hands. "I guess I'll do that then." you don't mean to sound snarky, but now your feelings are hurt, and you've got no real clue why. Still, Sam Winchester was about as stubborn as you were avoidant, so if he was going to push you away, you were going to go with open arms. It's precisely why you don't say anything else as you turn on your heel and stomp away like a petulant toddler. Sam's body is swiveling in his chair, almost like he's had a change of heart, and he's turning to hurriedly apologize, but finds that you're nowhere near enough for him to try.

"Nice going." Dean says like the annoying older brother that he is, and he's letting out another chuckle that makes Sam want to slam his head into the bar seated right in front of him.

"Shut up." he retorts instead.

"Don't take it out on me just cause you're all pent up!" is what Dean says next, and Sam wonders if everything in Dean's life revolves around sex and hunting. "Maybe you should be a little more like her and get rid of some of that aggression. Hunting ain't gon' fix everything." Dean lectures, and Sam thinks if his eyes roll again they'll spin right out of the sockets.

"Look not everything can be fixed by sleeping with some stranger." Sam offers as Dean stares at him like he's grown a second head. "And besides, I didn't say anything wrong. She's always gone." he whines. "Every single night." he reiterates. "It's like she can't wait to get away from us." and Sam's not sure if that's his heartache or his abandonment issues talking. Dean isn't sure either. "I mean, even you take breaks sometimes." and Dean resists the urge to react to the clear jab at his sexual history.

"So she's having some fun. What's the harm in that? It's not like she can't take care of herself. The kid packs a mean punch." and he winces at the memory of learning it first hand.

"Yeah, I know that." Sam retorts instantly.

"So then what's the problem?" Dean is quick with his assault of questions, and Sam just wants to be left alone to pout and be angry, but he knows Dean won't let him. He never does, not fully.

"There's no problem." he tries, and Dean's smacking his teeth.

"Bullshit." he spits. "You don't jump down somebody's throat like that and take shots if there's no problem. So what is it? You worried about her or something?" and Dean is just barely missing the point. "Cause it ain't your job to ride her back Sam, she can handle herself. Sort of cases we deal with everyday a couple of guys from the bar ain't gonna be too much trouble."

"Yeah, I got the message. She can handle herself." and he's grumpier than before, the evidence plain as day on his face.

"So then what the hell's your problem?" Dean demands.

"I like her, Dean." Sam finally offers and Dean's hand is waving him off instantly.

"Well sure, I like the kid too-"

"No, Dean." he emphasizes as Dean's eyebrows jump up. It takes him a second, but it finally clicks, hitting him like a ton of bricks as his mouth screws open in surprise. His body twists, chair turning as he turns in the direction you'd just gone, and then he's looking back at Sam and every last bit of the exasperation and grouchiness makes sense. He knows he ought to be gentle with this, but finds himself smirking coyly.

" Well, well, well." he reaches out and claps a hand against Sam's back, and the much taller man jolts at the impact. "And all this time I was worried you'd forgotten how to love a woman." and Dean is Dean, which means he's probably got no idea how insensitive his remark could be. But Sam knows Dean better than anyone, so he knows he doesn't mean much harm.

"Shut up." is Sam's instant response.

"I'm just saying. You've had a lot of misses there, Sammy. So as far as interest goes, this is damn sure a step in the right direction." And Sam notes how Dean always talks about you like you're the best person in their life. Sam knows you're not, but he like that Dean admires you so much. You were a lot like him, so Sam supposed it made sense. You both were rougher around the edges, strong, smart in the tactical sense.

And you both liked to drown your sorrows and trauma in things like booze, beer, and sexual conquests. And don't get him wrong, he had no real issue with the fact you were sexually liberated. In fact it was a very respectable sort of thing for what a woman to be. He just hated the fact that he never crossed your mind in that way. He was certain you'd even joked at some point about sleeping with Dean just for kicks.

"She's not a hill to climb, Dean." Sam shoots back, and he wishes he had just kept his mouth shut.

"Of course." Dean retorts, sounding unconvinced, because as usual anything that revolved around actually being interested in a woman past sleeping with her was lost on Dean. Which meant even with his teasing, he still only thought Sam was interested in you in the weakest of senses. But that wasn't the case. Because you were so much more than just some woman to conquer. He didn't even think he'd get the chance to try. You were daunting in the best way, too sure of yourself to take being used.

Which is why he never said anything. Because at first he thought you were only a pretty face that took his mind off the hurt Jess' death left behind. Until suddenly the thought of Jess didn't sting as bad, only because your presence became some sort of salving balm. He was screwed beyond repair.

"I'm serious." Sam insists, and now it's Dean's turn to roll his eyes.

"Oh, give me a break, Sam." he retorts. "Matter of fact, give yourself a damn break. You're gonna tear yourself apart sitting here pouting about it like a damn child." and Sam huffs through his nose. "If you're not gonna be a man about it and say something, then stop making it everyone else's problem." And Dean's not being mean. He's being Dean, but in his current state, Sam doesn't have it in him to not take offense. The whole 'Be a man' of it all reminding him too much of John.

"Screw you, Dean." Sam's up before either of them can really register it, and Dean's surprised at the drama of it all. It was different when they butt heads over cases, or their differing opinions of their father. But they didn't fight over stuff like this. They both just went about their lives doing their own thing as far as women were involved. And sure Dean knew you were beautiful, but you all knew how dangerous your job was. Falling in love was a death wish, and he thought Sam of all people knew it.

But as usual, he was wrong.

"Sam!" Dean calls after his younger brother, who navigates through the quickly growing crowd of drunks with ease. "Sammy!" He knows Sam hears him, but is choosing to ignore him. Dean also knows Sam doesn't have the keys to the impala, so it's not like he could actually leave. Which is the only reason he decides to give his baby brother a second to cool off. If he hadn't spun the block in ten minutes max though, Dean would be up and out of the bar guns almost blazing.

By the time Sam had managed his way through the crowd and stepped out of the bar, he'd partially forgotten what his big tantrum was about. That is until his eyes skim the parking lot, and he finds you of all people pressed up against the side of the place all by yourself. Your back is pressed fully into the brick of the building, eyes closed as you lent your head back. You looked a lot grouchier than you'd been earlier when you'd bounced over with all your teeth showing.

He wonders if your sour mood has anything to do with him.

He stands there for a moment, debating if he would approach you, before you open your eyes, and spot him. He thinks that answers the question for him. "What are you doing out here?" he asks, and your lips push out in a show of your disinterest in having a conversation with him. You were still upset by what he said. Figures. He lets his feet drag him towards you, and you tense up the moment he's close enough to really take you in. Your entire body is clenched up, and you're quick to force a wider gap between the both of you as Sam mimicked your posture on the wall.

"I thought you were getting out of here." and he doesn't know why he continues to talk, when it's clear you're choosing to ignore him.

"I thought so too." you reply gruffly, face scrunched up in disappointment.

"So what happened?" he pries. "Change your mind?"

You shoot him a sour look. "What are you doing, Sam?" you demand. "It's barely been twenty minutes. Whatever happened to 'Why don't you just go?'." you recite his words back to him and he winces. "You didn't want to talk to me before, so I don't want to talk to you now." you say, and it's a little bit childish. You both know it. But that was the thing about the two of you. Where you and Dean meshed because of your similarities, you and Sam often found yourselves in moments of odds.

When Dean pissed you off, all it'd really take is a few hours apart and then you'd both show up with peace offerings and move on as if nothing happened. It wasn't like that with Sam, not in the slightest. He always wanted to push, to dig your emotions out of you. You despised it, almost as much as you hated how he could be such a hypocrite sometimes. Forcing you to bare everything you felt to him, but lashing out at you and Dean whenever things got too much in his head. Sometimes you hated him.

Sometimes you hated both of them.

But most times you adored them, loved them with an intensity that you could never really understand. They were your boys, your best friends. The only family you still had and could trust now. And it was a step up from the family you used to have. Jim, Jack, and Jose could only help you so much. That family only ever left you with headaches and numbness. Dazes that lasted longer than your moments of clarity, and horrible hangovers. It was why you tried so hard with Sam and Dean.

Even when they pissed you off.

Because they saved you from yourself. Showed you there was more to life than drinking away your despair. In return you offered them protection. Someone else to take on the weight of keeping them safe. It was a fair deal. Hunting with them, being a team. They watched you back, and you watched theirs, and you all became better.

"I shouldn't have said it." he says with a sigh. "I don't even know why I did." Sam says, and you know there's more. Lots more he won't say. But you need him to, mostly because you'd been driving yourself sick thinking that he was growing tired of you being around. You were worried that one day you'd have nowhere to go back to. That one day they'd grow tired enough of you and all your tears, and anger, and aggression, and you'd wake up to an empty motel room. Find out the impala was long gone, with you left in the dust.

You think that's why you try to find someone new on every hunt. Why you'd allowed yourself to start drinking a bit more again, why you giggled a little harder at some of the unfunny jokes of the men and women who picked you up at the bars. Because if you had them, had someone, it wouldn't matter if Sam and Dean one day disappeared. You'd be okay, you'd be settled. You'd survive the heartache.

"Don't lie to me, Sam." you reply quietly, and your voice is heady. Sam hadn't even noticed the flask at first, his eyes widening in that way that showed he was worried about you. In your drunk and angry state though, it just looks like disgust. "If you're just gonna do that, you can fucking leave." you insist, and Sam is shocked. "See if I give a damn." and that was another problem with you and Sam. You both weren't the best with confrontation. Sure, you could both lash out, get angry and spew out the things you'd bottled up. But it wasn't like you ever really heard one another out.

When you fought, you both came in with your calculated notions and beliefs of each other. You didn't listen to reason, you listened to how you felt. What you believed to be right. Which meant that in moments like these where you're spewing words like 'See if I give a damn', all it really told Sam was that every thought he ever had about you wanting to get away from him and Dean seemed to be proven right.

"Well if you don't give a damn, then why do you even bother sticking around?" he seethes, and you scoff, head whipping around to fully stare him down. "I mean trust me, we'd never want to hold you back." and he says this part mockingly, and you think you hate him a bit more than you ever have. "Why don't you just leave for good? Why do you stay? Why do you- why do you keep up with any of this?" he demands and you push off the wall, turning your body as you glare up at him.

"Is that what you want? For me to leave for good, Sam?" you question, hands balling into tight fists as Sam's mouth drops open in shock at your question. The obvious answer being absolutely not. "Is that why you've been walking around with a stick up your ass, lashing out, and acting like a fucking toddler, you want me gone? You're a grown man, Samuel, why don't you just grow some balls and fucking say that instead of-" and you scoff because you feel yourself getting all the more angry just looking at him. "God, I don't even know why the hell I even bother with you Winchesters!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you drive me fucking crazy!" you erupt, voice picking up. "You know why I'm still here? Why I'm not off having a nice night?" you ask, but he knows it's rhetorical, so he doesn't speak. "Because I felt like shit leaving, knowing that you think I'm better at being gone than helping you when you're upset. I couldn't even think about sleeping with someone else when my friend was sitting at the bar dealing with whatever shit was flying through your head seemingly all by yourself. Because of course Dean wouldn't push you too far unless you were in danger."

And Sam thinks about how Dean hadn't chased him down when he left the bar, and finds himself a bit surprised at how much you pay attention to them both.

"Which meant if you weren't in danger, you wouldn't tell him shit. You'd bottle it up and try to deal with it alone. And I thought how fucked up of me to be thinking about sex when you were obviously really fucked up over something." you huff. "But now, you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that I was stupid for getting myself in a position where I care so much about two people who time and time again prove to everyone in their fucking circumference that we're better off leaving you two the fuck alone." you proceed, and Sam's as defensive as ever now. Face growing warm in anger.

"You knew what you were getting into when you decided to tag along." Sam retorts like a child. "Nobody's holding you hostage. Nobody is keeping you here against your will, okay? If we're that horrible to endure than leave. We'll be fine without you, we always are." Sam insists, and you scoff again, this one more disbelieving than the other. "No, I'm serious. You're never around after hunts anyway. If you're so eager to get away from us, if we're too much for you, than why torment yourself any longer? Go."

"Screw you, Sam."

"Screw me? How could this possibly be on me?"

"You're trying so hard to make this my idea." you snap. "But it's not, Sam. I'm still here. Don't you think if I wanted to leave you and your brother to rot that I could've several times over? Despite what you may believe, I have enough self respect to leave a situation I don't want to be in. You're the one being a moody jackass that can't grow the hell up and say what he feels." and you catch yourself. "And excuse me if sometimes I want a chance to feel like a regular fucking person." you proceed. "It's not like the odds of a hunter falling in love and living some cookie cutter life are high."

Sam blinks at that reminder.

"So don't make me feel like shit because you're too scared to let yourself feel even a semblance of normalcy for once." You're turning again, letting yourself lean back against the wall as you down all that's left inside the flask.

"I'm sorry." Sam exhales the words, guilt and aggravation rolling off of him in waves.

"Yeah, well you should be." you retort. "I'm not the enemy here, Sam. And despite what you seem to think of me, I'm not just itching to go off on my own and leave you two behind. You guys are my family. We're in this shit together." you remind him. "But not if you keep like this, Sam. I'm not going to let you push me away. At that point i'd just go." you admit, and it's the truth. The codependency that ran deep between Sam and Dean was not something you'd choose to take on. Even if the thought of leaving them felt like splitting your heart apart and stomping on it, you had to love yourself more.

"I'm not trying to push you away." he insists, and your eyebrow jumps.

"Could have fooled me." you reply and Sam huffs.

"I'm a jackass, okay? I never should have-" and he thinks it was way easier expressing himself back at the bar with Dean. "I shouldn't have said any of it." and it's true, even though it was a constant thought. But that wasn't your problem, his personal issues with being abandoned or better put unstable as far as the people in his life were concerned. "Jesus." and the instant replay of every word he'd spewed at you guts him. Was he really that insecure? That filled to the brim with jealousy that he couldn't express his fears of losing you without lashing out and making you the villain.

God, he'd never felt more like John.

"Be honest with me." you demand. "What the hell's going on with you, Sammy? You're freaking me out, okay? What is it? Are you having nightmares again? More visions?"

"No." he denies plainly. "It's not like that." and while he did still have nightmares and visions, this had nothing to do with why he was in this particular situation with you.

"Then what? You know you can tell me anything."

"Not this."

"Well why not?" you press, and you feel annoyance flaring up again.

"I just can't, alright?"

"Oh, give me a fucking break, Sam!" you sneer. "How can you apologize and then go right back to acting like this?" you say.

"Because I am sorry." he promises. "I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. I'm sorry for what I said, and for talking to you like that, okay? It never should have happened. I shouldn't have ever said it. But this is personal. It's not something you can help."

"So, I'm just supposed to accept that it's always going to be like this?" and he thinks the answer is no. Just as soon as he gets over you, he can go back to normal. But he had no clue when that would be, or how long it would take. "Where you're angry at me?" you clarify, and Sam's immediately turning his stare to you.

"I'm not angry with you, Y/N."

"Then what is it? Are you-" you close your eyes and take in a breath when you start to yell again. "Sam, you have to give me something."

"Why can't you just accept that I can't tell you?" Sam questions as he straightens up, towering over you in the way he seemed to tower over everyone else. Still, you were older than him, intimidating in the way that a hard life seemed to make people. You match his stance, standing straighter as you glare up at him, and he glares down at you. "Why can't you just respect that and let me deal with this on my own?"

"Because I seem to be the only person getting affected by this little mood swing of yours." you remind him. "I'm the one getting the smart remarks, and the attitude, and the cold fucking shoulder. Not Dean, and not anybody else. So obviously your funky attitude has something to do with how you feel about me. So what is it? What did I do?" you ask, and you know you're treading dangerous territory, but you never cared. Angry or not, this was still Sam, your Sam, which meant you'd get him to crack eventually. You were more determined than most.

"You infuriate me!" he finally exclaims. "That's it." he adds, as you stare slack jawed. "You take up space, and make every part of my life difficult. When it was just me and Dean, he was the only thing I had to worry about. I looked out for him, and he looked out for me, and that was it. But then you showed up and you made it so easy to care about you. But now it's not just as simple as caring about you. It's not like Jo and Ellen and Ash where we're like partners. It's not like with Bobby, who's family. Because while I care about them no part of me harps on keeping them safe 24/7."

It takes you a second to recover from his initial words, as the rest spills out of him like a faucet, you find yourself shuffling away from Sam. "But that's all I can think about with you. Making sure you're safe, taking care of you. And sure, Dean thinks about it too, but it's different. It's always been different. And I haven't felt this way since Jess, so that's why it's-it's easier to make you want to leave than handle you deciding one day that you're done with us and disappearing. So I'm sorry, okay? It's not your problem, it's mine." he tells you, and you think you've never been more lightheated.

"And I'll work on it. I'll get better, it'll be okay, and we'll go back to normal eventually. But until I can get a lock on this, on how I feel, I can't be okay with you running off and being with someone new when I want you the way that I want you. But I'd never tell you what to do, or how to cope. So I don't say anything. I never say anything." he breathes the words out and they're painted with aggression and heartache, and it makes your stomach flip in the worst way. "Are you happy now?"

"Sammy..."

"I don't need you to feel bad for me, but now you see why I didn't want to talk about it."

"Sam, you're a coward." you huff out, and he exhales.

"I know."

"And you can't just- you can't just lash out on me... or anyone else just because you have feelings you don't understand." you lecture him.

"I understand my feelings perfectly, Y/N. That's what you and Dean don't ever seem to understand. I know exactly how I feel, and I know exactly what lengths I'd go to." he tells you more seriously than he's been all night.

"What lengths?"

"To protect you, to make sure you were okay. It's not something as simple as me just... wanting to get a few rocks off. Or because we're stuck on the road together, and you're just some pretty girl. I've never had a doubt in my mind that my brother would go to the ends of the world for me. And I'd do the same thing for him." he tells you, and you already knew that. "But now you're included in that. You're someone I take account of, and the things I'd do for you they're not normal, they're not okay."

"Sam..."

"Look, I never said you had to feel the same way. You're the one that pushed. You're the one that asked to know what you did."

"Sammy? You out here?" you both stall at the familiar sound of Dean, who's instantly looking between the both of you with a mixture of relief and curiosity on his face. "What's this? We throwing a party back here?" he questions as you snort out a laugh.

"Hardly." you retort. "You're packing it in early." you comment as Dean offers you a smirk that's so Dean.

"I could say the same for you." and then he's looking to Sam with a knowing glance on his face. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No." Sam says instantly, and Dean looks to you.

"Yes."

"Guess the Ayes have it." he whistles at his brother's expense, clapping him on the shoulder again, as he tosses the keys to Baby up in the air before catching them in his hands. "If you guys aren't done in ten, I'm leaving your asses." and you know he's mostly joking, but still, you feel a flower bomb of appreciation exploding in your chest.

"Wait, De-" Sam starts, only to be ignored as Dean tosses the keys up in the air once more, catching them as he strides off, almost as quickly as he showed up, and Sam's turning to you with a questioning and pensive look on his face. "I don't really see what else there is to talk about." Sam says as you poke him roughly in the chest.

"Cut the crap, Sam. You're not the only person allowed to talk here, alright?" you tell him, and his eyes roll. "Were you even going to give me a chance to say anything back?" you question.

"What's the use, I already know what you're going to say." he tries, and you snort.

"You're a coward, Sam Winchester."

"I think we already covered that." he says dryly, as you shake your head.

"Why didn't you ever say anything? About how you feel?" you pry.

"You said it yourself. Hunters don't get to fall in love and live a cookie cutter life." he reminds you and you shake your head again.

"But you didn't even give me a chance to decide if I even wanted to try. What were you going to do? Ice me out until you forced yourself to feel differently for me? You're that determined to die with your pride?"

"It's not about pride. It's about being realistic, it's not like you ever gave me any sort of indication that feeling this way was alright."

"Sam, you're allowed to feel however you want. It's not my job to tell you if the way you feel for me is okay, because it is." you retort. "Even if I didn't feel the same way." you remind him, as his face seems to tinge with embarrassment. "Lucky enough for you though, doofus. I think there's worse things in the world than having feelings for a Winchester." and it takes it a moment to register on Sam's face, his eyes widening.

"What?"

"Look. I'm not saying it's true love, okay? All the shit we've seen, I don't know if humankind was lucky enough to earn it. But I do know that you're so important to me. Important enough to put everyone else on the backburner. I thought it was clear enough that I love you, Sam. What I don't understand is why you were so scared to tell me the truth." you admit as Sam lets your words float around him like a wave.

"I was scared you'd leave." he admits plainly.

"Sometimes I get scared of that too. That one day you'll both vanish right out of my life." you admit, and it squeezes Sam's heart in his chest. "Maybe that feeling will never fully go away, we can't ever say what'll happen in the future. But I do know that I'm here now." you tell him and you reach out and grab his hand. "And you're here now, okay? So why don't we let that be enough for us for now. If that's what you want." you offer, and Sam looks at you, really looks at you, and thinks he'll love you forever. Almost as much as he hates you for running his mind like it was your own.

"I do. I want that."

"Okay." you squeeze his hand gently. "So can we try again? Without the theatrics and the yelling this time. Just- just tell me what you'd want from me, Sammy."

"I want to be with you." he says it so hurriedly, you can't fight your little smirk. "And I don't know how long it'll last, but I know I'll try for as long as I can to make it work. I know we can't exactly have... an apple-pie life, but- I could be whatever you need me to be. I just know all this hunting stuff, saving people stuff makes a lot more sense when you're doing it with me, okay? And I don't want to lose that-" you don't leave room for much else, tugging him towards you and pouring every bit of how much you care about him into the way you kiss him.

Instantly, he's picking you up by the thighs, letting them wrap around his hips as he kisses you back feverishly. It's almost dizzying, especially as your head smacks the brick wall of the bar, your hands flying from his face, to his hair, and back down again. He thinks he could kiss you forever, and you think you could quite quickly learn to believe in true love. It wasn't conventional, but you knew you'd love him forever, almost as much as you hated him for controlling the beat of your heart as if it was his own.

You were certain if the desperation grew any thicker you'd both be stripped bare right there in the open, but the obnoxious honk, honk, honk of Dean from the driver's seat of the impala pulls you both apart like you'd been electrocuted. "Get a room!" he exclaims, face covered in fax disgust as Sam's hands squeeze politely at your hips as you stare up at him.

"At least we don't have to have the talk with your brother." you offer sheepishly.

"Oh, he'll find a way to force the talk." Sam retorts as you both chuckle nervously. Since you'd met there had always been a difference in the way you were with Dean, and the way you were with Sam, and you think that this new turn in your relationship with Sam would come with a lot of hard work, a lot of work that you'd normally never be inclined to give a chance. But as Sam gingerly places you back on two feet, and you find your knees wobbling just slightly as he nods his head towards the impala, that you would much like he insisted: go to the ends of the world [and everything in between] just to get back to him. which meant in the grand scheme of things, that even if things romantically ended horribly wrong, Sam Winchester was a good risk.

One you'd gladly make for the rest of your life.

Even if he didn't know it yet.

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