#like he’s about to make a decision that will

[eri-pl]

A different fandom, but: bold of you to assume that I have one consistent personal headcanon.

Arguments about what's canon and what's not in SW fandom are kinda pointless, I know for a fact that every fan has their personal frankensteined version of canon based on what's best for their own blorbos. I love picking up a random licensed book to sneer at half of its ideas and then steal the rest. Some shows and books and comics and whole movies are simply not incorporated into my belief system. That's how we roll

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming. 

They’ve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armor—ugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud. 

It’s to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You can’t decide if it’s a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, it’s the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all captured—paired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mud—who knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide it’s time to start moving again—much less run away if and when the opportunity presents itself—leaving you hopeless if someone doesn’t do something soon.

And it turns out that someone is you.

“Hey!” you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.

They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.

��Yes, you two, guards!” you make clear.

They continue to look at you, yet don’t make a move.

You sigh exasperatingly—yet with how tired you are, it’s more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t much care. 

“I know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves don’t require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need food—at the very least water!” 

A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it. 

“If you plan to keep us alive—as I would think, given your decision to cage us—I would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!”

Both guards look away toward another orc—one sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents they’d pitched—perhaps the biggest one—sharpening his blade with a rock.

He doesn’t look up from his handiwork but speaks, “The elf is hungry?”

You scowl at the question. “Yes, you oaf—the elf is, in fact, hungry.”

He lifts his blade and looks it over—one side, then the other—before sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.

Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and you’re reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yours—built like a grizzly bear—plus his armor, which easily adds another.

He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.

“Come. You will be fed,” he says, opening the gate wide.

You look behind you—all the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that you’re sure he’s going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.

Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, “What’s on the menu?”

The orc snorts—perhaps at your pickiness—finding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, too—of course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.

He smirks, answering, “Something to keep warm."

Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...

The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before halting—mounting something close to the firepit.

By the time you understand what it is, it’s already too late. Your hair’s grabbed—as well as your entire skull—taken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.

He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forward—fighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, you’ve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you again—this time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device they’ve set up just for you.

You’re lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent over—with your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in place—perfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.

You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden plates—too late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and cries—but it’s no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.

He smiles down at the look on your face—watching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, “Please—I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t worry, little elf,” he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “You’ll be fed, just like promised.”

Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrash—but poor balance only results in you choking yourself—and so you’re left to stand there, helpless—bowed and nude before three orcs you’ve angered with your reckless entitlement.

“Mh, pretty elf holes…” one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.

You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.

“Stop, stop! Don’t!” you wail, but it pries you apart anyway—wriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back out—then repeating the motion—promptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elf’s manhood.

You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slicken—if just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish they’d killed you instead.

“Shh, elf. Don't cry.” The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. “We’ll give you what you beg for…” He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt. 

You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare. 

“A warm meal in all your hungry holes.”

The two guards take turns behind you. You can’t see them, but they’ve made themselves more than known—having stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size. 

They seem to like it when you cum—keeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while ago—their groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.

Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than you’re proud of—now pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skin—feeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.

But you ought to thank him. Earlier, he’d tried forcing his length down your throat—making your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fist—in the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.

His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white you’d been made to swallow. You’d wanted to bite, but the dagger he’d earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat size—face glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.

“Poor elf-bitch…” he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. “Fed twig all your pretty life—of course, you’re hungry.”

He chuckles, voice hoarse and muted—almost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.

“A mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when you’re pounded like meat.” He hums, “In your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.”

He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.

“Leave her cunt to me,” he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. “Prissy elf pussy’s mine to breed.”

One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for space—putting you in an air-tight spitroast—with your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.

“A'right, boys,” the commander announces, “Let's stuff her ‘til she’s big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.”

They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seed—coming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against you—feeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.

Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks out—letting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty. 

Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breasts—tender and oddly tingly all over—you croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment after—starting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.

He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touched—milking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"

And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. “That’s right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.”

You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly goo—leaving you feeling cozy from the inside out—cross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.

He also waits—waits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.

“Still hungry, elf-girl?” he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. “Or was it thirsty?”

He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at him—grinning and humming at the sight.

“Tell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?”

Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, “Both~”

He clicks his tongue, “Spoiled.” But he doesn’t seem angry—no, rather pleased. “You’ve been well-fed for now—time to wash it down.”

He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue. 

You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto his—both moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your face—making you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if it’s in another class from the aged wine back home.

“Drink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,” he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.

When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, “Thank you—thank you, master.”

Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissy—high and mighty creatures—and yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed. 

He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the others—cease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.

But no. He thinks not.

“Let’s move—” he announces to the camp. “Time to take our bounty home.”

After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlier—you elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.

The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.

“No, not her,” he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. “She rides with me.”

On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over his—still naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddle—making a mess he’ll have you lick clean later.

“Tell me if you get hungry again, little elf,” he sneers, though a little fondly. “I’ll feed you again.”

And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, “Thank you, master.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ellecdc]

Hi, I don't actually know if your requests are open but I was just wondering if you could do a fic about poly!Mauraders x reader, but it's a full moon and when James and Sirius are out with moony, they run into another wolf (reader) and moony just instantly takes a liking to her. Imagine moony trying to follow her around, and reader keeps snapping her jaw at him. I could also imagine reader is maybe a Slytherin?

Sorry if this isn't good, I just popped into my head, and I went with it. Take your time, and don't rush yourself 💓

"sorry if this isn't good - don't rush" uhm, it was fantastic and I wrote it IMMEDIATELY thank youuuuu!!!! <3

poly!marauders x werewolf!reader who's unwittingly integrated into their pack [2.3k words]

CW: fem!reader, werewolf behaviour, some aggression/fighting, canine aggression and submission, Padfoot's had it up to fucking here with them all thank you very much

Padfoot wondered for a moment if maybe he was just some glorified herding dog at this point whilst he struggled to keep Moony on their usual routine when the werewolf seemed thoroughly hellbent on breaking it.

Moony - a blood hound tonight, apparently - insisted on following his nose, Padfoot’s incessant demands to stick to plan be damned. 

And unfortunately for Padfoot, it didn’t seem like Prongs or Wormtail had any clue how to deal with Moony either.

Great.

So instead of their usual routine of transforming in the shack, letting Moony out, following their trail where they run (and roll, in Moony & Padfoot’s case) down a large hill before chasing each other along the river bank, grabbing a drink from the edge of the Black Lake and slowly making their way back to the shack…Moony no sooner got to the bottom of their hill before he picked up some scent and followed it down dark, wandering paths through the Forbidden Forest.

Padfoot had tried encouraging a mouth wrestle and romp - no dice. Prongs tried taking off in a sprint, hoping to elicit Moony’s instinct to chase - no dice. Wormtail bit Moony’s foot which only saw him nearly stomped on as the werewolf continued on his journey. Prongs tried bodily shoving Moony back in the direction of the shack to no avail. 

Padfoot was just about ready to pick a bloody fight with the beast when he heard snuffling followed by a low growl.

Unfortunately for Padfoot, Moony didn’t miss it either, and before he knew which way was up, Moony took off in a sprint towards the sound. 

Padfoot hoped to come back in his next life as a border collie - maybe he’d have better luck with the likes of sheep.

And that decision was only solidified when he turned the corner to find Moony staring down another werewolf who had her hackles raised and teeth bared at the bastard who seemed either ignorant to canine body language or was actively choosing to ignore it.

At least sheep will have the bloody wherewithal to avoid danger. 

Padfoot made a quiet whimpering sound, hoping to encourage Moony to get the hells out of here, but it only served to have Moony’s ear flick in his general direction before returning to his new wolf friend. 

Prongs huffed a breath and stomped his hoof into the earth, and Padfoot noticed then that Wormtail was nowhere to be found - the bloody coward. 

Moony tried to crane his neck forward to sniff at the wolf's paws, only for the wolf to snarl and snap at him before smacking him with said paw like a sodding cat. 

Moony at least had the grace to lower himself to the ground in submission for but a moment before he bounced back up to try doing much the same. 

This time, the wolf charged at Moony, pinning him to the earth by his throat as she growled at him; the sound muffled by the fact that Moony’s sodding neck was in her mouth.

Prongs grunted and made to charge in Moony’s defence, causing the wolf to release Moony and look at him sceptically, and Moony to growl at Prongs warningly - he did not want their help. 

Fine by Padfoot. He wasn’t much interested in helping a werewolf with a death wish anyway. 

But when the wolf decided this was all perhaps a bit too much for her, turning away from the strange pack to continue on its path - of which the marauders should be on their own, thank you very much - Moony went to follow, and dammit, this was Padfoot’s pack.

And if it wasn’t his pack, it was his herd, and what kind of border collie would Padfoot be if he let his pack sheep out of his sight?

Not a very good one, is what.

So, with a huff of resignation, Padfoot trailed behind the wolves - one that kept turning to nip, snap, and snarl at pesky Moony, and pesky Moony who kept trying to get a sniff or even, more disturbingly, incite play with a gentle nip - Prongs (and Wormtail, by means of Prongs’ antlers) trailed behind him. 

The wolf seemed resigned to her fate in having company for the rest of the evening, though that didn’t mean she was pleased about it. Every time Padfoot thought the wolf’s hackles were going down, Moony playbowed in front of her like an overgrown lanky puppy, and they rose right back up. 

The new wolf, for her part, spent the evening snuffling through the dried leaves and moss on the floor, stretching against tree trunks and using the bark to sharpen her claws (still not unlike a cat), and chewing on a stick. 

Padfoot thought that actually all seemed like a really nice way to spend the evening.

Or, you know, it would have been, had he not been in charge of this ridiculous rag-tag group of misfits he unwittingly found himself responsible for. 

But eventually, the evening had to come to an end, and that end was signalled by the twitching of Moony’s muscles underneath his fur as the moon started pulling at his bones, and it appeared to be doing the same for you.

But the night couldn’t end, it seemed, if you weren’t coming with Moony. And for as annoyed as Padfoot had been all evening, he was growing increasingly anxious. 

You abandoned your stick and stood, beginning to limp away from them when Moony grunted and hurried after you, causing Padfoot and Prongs to bark and bleat respectively. 

Any levity that the wolf had found for the marauders quickly vanished in the face of her oncoming transformation and the pain radiating through her when she turned on Moony and lunged at him. Padfoot whimpered and felt his heart try to escape through his throat as earth flew up in the air due to paws digging into the ground for traction and scrambling for purchase. 

The wolf's growls were different now, though; they weren’t bored, they weren’t dismissive, and they weren’t even all that threatening. The wolf was scared - panicked, even. Padfoot could see it in the speed of her breathing and the whites of her eyes that she was quickly descending into terror. 

They were close, so close, to the shack; Padfoot was certain he could get Moony back before the transformation if he would just get a sodding move on.

But it appeared Moony was wholly unwilling to leave without this wolf, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

The wolf seemed to come to the same conclusion as Padfoot, stepping away from Moony before submitting for the first time all evening, and wincing as Padfoot heard one of her joints shift. 

Moony let out a sigh, moving over to the wolf who seemed so small now that she was cowering at the base of the tree with Moony standing above her, nudging her face and neck with his nose before licking over her face. 

The wolf whimpered, and Padfoot watched as Moony’s right hind foot came out from underneath him for a moment - as if he tripped - telling him that the transformation was starting. 

Padfoot whined, and he swore Moony actually nodded his head in understanding before he gently grabbed the wolf by the scruff of the neck and encouraged her to stand. 

Resigned to her fate, the wolf followed the pack towards the shack, barely making it into the room before the transformation took over.

The first thing you noticed when you came to wasn’t the pain, though that was there. It was always there. 

No, the first thing you noticed when you came to was the feeling of linen on top of you and something soft below you. 

That wasn’t right; that couldn’t be right, could it? You were supposed to be in the cave. 

But when you shifted your arm and felt the linen - a blanket? - fall from your shoulder, you knew it was true. You were not in the cave. You were not in the cave, and someone had found you. 

“I think she’s awake.” 

Someones had found you.

You were not in the cave, people had found you, and you were not alone.

You sat up suddenly, holding the blanket to your chest as you shuffled away from the sounds before your back met something solid. Your head felt heavy and off-kilter, like you were standing on a boat swaying on rolling waves.

You had a wicked migraine coming on.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there doll.” Another voice sounded.

“What-” You tried, cutting yourself off to clear your throat when your voice came out gravely and painful, threatening to bring up whatever you still had in your stomach from dinner two nights ago; the last time you could manage food. “Why are you- why am I here? Where am I? What-”

“Open your eyes, L/N.” The second voice offered, though you could tell the inflection was softer than it naturally was; you wondered if that took him a lot of effort. “You’re okay.”

Your breaths began to quicken because you didn’t feel okay, this didn’t feel okay. Someone knew, they knew; they had found you, you were found out.

The sun was still low, so the light in the….room? shack? hut? was dim, though it still made your eyes water with the impending migraine lined up in your temples as if just waiting for a good excuse to wreak havoc on your brain. 

You were accosted with the sight of Sirius Black crouching in front of you, elbows on his knees as his eyebrows hooked in the middle; James Potter standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you much the same. 

“You’re okay.” James repeated, nodding his head encouragingly as your vision began to swim.

“Try to relax, doll; you’re not going to feel very well if you work yourself up.”

You let out a hysterical breath that bordered between a laugh and a sob as a few tears spilled out. “Relax? I- what… How could you- why are you here?”

James grimaced. “Sorry, that would be Moony’s fault.” 

“Moony? I-” But your question was cut off  when you heard the shuffling off bedding from across the room, and both James and Sirius turned towards the sound, exposing Remus Lupin sitting up on an old mattress, rubbing at his eyes as a blanket fell and pooled at his hips, exposing his bare torso that was….covered in claw marks.

“Oh gods.” You let out with a sob. “What did I- Did I do that?” 

“What?” Remus let out groggily as both Sirius and James quickly denied it. 

“No, no. Listen, angel, please relax-”

“Stop telling me to relax.” You nearly shrilled. “And stop calling me nice names!”

Too tired, too freaked out, and too confused to have chosen your wording carefully, you appeared to have said something wrong when Sirius’ mouth turned up in a salacious smirk. 

“You like our nice names?”

“No!” 

“I think you do.” James continued.

“Leave the poor girl alone.” Remus grumbled before he fell back onto his bed, rubbing harshly at his eyes.

“Where are we?” You asked simply, swallowing around your gag reflex.

“The shrieking shack.” James answered just as simply.

“Okay.” You acknowledged. “Why?”

“Well, Moony wouldn’t leave without you, so we sort of had to bring you with us.” Sirius answered.

“Moony…?”

“That’s me.” You heard Remus mutter, voice muffled from behind his hands. 

“And…I didn’t hurt anyone last night?” You asked slowly. 

James’ face softened as he started to shake his head no, but Sirius scoffed.

“Define hurt, gorgeous. I was pissed, for one. Two, you had that wanker by the throat for most of the night.” He said, gesturing behind him to Remus with a careless thumb. 

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t bloody leave you alone! I was exhausted just watching.” Sirius continued.

“Would you stop bloody shouting?” Remus grumbled, and you couldn’t help but agree as you rubbed at your head. 

“Anyway,” James continued at a more appropriate volume, “he wouldn’t leave without you, so we brought you back here for the transformation. Where…where were you going to go for the transformation?” 

You flushed as you wrapped the blanket tighter around your person. “There's…a cave I usually go to.” You admitted in a whisper.

“Well, I bet this is an upgrade then, no?” Sirius offered somewhat haughtily, but his face fell quickly when you began speaking again.

“You can’t tell anyone…please.” 

“Tell anyone?” James repeated.

“I…no one knows, no one can know.”

“Whoa, babe, hang on. Who’re we gonna tell?” Sirius asked then, a disbelieving look painting his features. 

“I-” you started, swallowing again “I don’t know but, I just, you can’t-”

“We weren’t gonna tell anyone.” James assured you. “We aren’t going to tell anyone; there’s nothing to tell.” 

You must have looked sceptical, because Sirius quickly intervened.

“Alright look, we promise not to tell anyone about your lycanthropy, as long as you promise not to tell anyone about Remus’, or about James and I being illegal, unregistered animagi.” 

Your mouth actually fell open as you looked between the three of them; James as he turned to grab some vials of pain potions and healing balms, Sirius who was smirking at you salaciously, and Remus who was carding his hand through his hair and smiling (try grimacing) at you apologetically. 

“Welcome to the pack, L/N.” Remus said wryly before he downed the potion James handed to him in one, effortless swig and laid back down. 

“We’re called the marauders.” James explained as he handed you a matching potion. “We’ll have to find you a nickname. Don’t worry though, we have a whole month to come up with one.” 

What the fuck?

[just-aake]

Flustered Crushes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The Black Widow does not get flustered. So why is it that Natasha can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of you?

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2795

At the edge of the bustling hangar bay, Natasha leans against the cold, metallic wall, her arms folded tightly, a faint frown etched across her brow as her sharp gaze observes the scene unfolding before her. 

Near the base of the Quinjet’s ramp, you are engaged in animated conversation with Carol Danvers, who happened to arrive at the compound for a quick visit precisely when you returned from your mission.  

You've been with the Avengers for a few months now, a former SHIELD agent seamlessly adjusting to the team dynamics. 

Over time, you've connected with everyone—including her. 

So, Natasha’s made an extra effort to help you feel welcome. 

Clint often teases her about her behavior, insisting her attentiveness borders on something more personal, something like a…crush. 

Natasha dismisses his comments each time with a roll of her eyes. 

She’s just being nice. 

After all, it's only natural to want a solid, dependable relationship with a new teammate, especially someone she'll be working closely with.

That’s the only reason why she came to greet you when you return from your mission.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she stands there, alone, on the sidelines…not with you. 

Natasha watches Carol say something that makes you laugh, causing her faint frown to deepen.

The flash of amusement in your eyes as Carol grins back makes Natasha roll her eyes and look away, unable to take the sight anymore as a pang of irritation tightens in her chest.

She tries to shake it off, but it doesn’t disappear.

After all, it’s not like she got here an hour before your scheduled return and waited to see you…just to end up watching as the blonde space beauty swoop in, effortlessly captivating your attention.

Deciding she’s had enough, Natasha pushes herself off the wall, preparing to leave.

However, her abrupt movement catches others around her off guard, and she ends up bumping into a passing cart loaded with tools and equipment. 

A clattering sound echoes across the hangar as wrenches and bolts spill onto the floor. 

Natasha curses softly under her breath, a mix of pain and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she drops to gather the scattered items, apologizing hastily to the technician she collided with before quickly exiting the area.

In her haste, she doesn’t notice your gaze, the subtle smile tugging at your lips as you follow her with amused eyes, tracking her every flustered move across the hangar bay, even as she slips away without a backward glance.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So, how’s it going with your crush?” Clint asks, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Natasha.

Natasha shoots him a warning look that would strike fear into the most fearsome of villains.

Without a word, she grabs the coffee pot, filling his mug before pouring some for herself. She replaces the pot with a decisive click.

“There is no crush,” she states firmly, taking a sip as though punctuating her denial.

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks skeptically before continuing, “Whenever Y/n’s around, it’s like you lose all of your charm and coolness.” 

Natasha gives him an unimpressed glare. 

“Really? Coolness? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Clint smirks, raising his mug in mock salute.

“Ask me again after I finish this coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, holding her mug close, feeling the warm comfort seep into her hands.

Just as she brings it to her lips, the doors swing open, and Tony strolls into the kitchen, spotting them with their drinks. 

“Oh, coffee! Pour me a cup, Romanoff.”

“Pour your own,” Natasha mutters, savoring her next sip. 

Tony feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. 

“FRIDAY, remind me, who owns this building?” 

“You do, sir,” the AI replies smoothly. 

Tony gestures upward triumphantly at her before pointing towards the kitchen. 

“So, technically, that machine is mine, the beans are mine, and...oh, right, that pot of coffee is also mine.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes but eventually reaches for the pot, lifting it begrudgingly.

Tony holds out his mug with a victorious grin. 

But just as she hovers the pot above his cup, she stops short.

“A ‘please’ once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he gasps in exaggerated disbelief as Natasha raises a brow in expectation.

Huffing, he mutters, “Can I have some coffee, please?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Natasha quips with a smirk, preparing to pour him his coffee.

At that moment, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal you, fresh from your morning workout, dressed in your training gear.

You walk by the kitchen, spotting the other Avengers gathered around. 

A delighted smile spreads across your face. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some, too?” 

Natasha’s response is instant. 

“Sure, I’ll make you a new pot.” 

Her tone is warmer than usual, surprising even herself.

You beam at her, and Natasha feels herself pause, momentarily captivated by the sight. Distracted, she almost misses your following words. 

“Thanks, Natasha! Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

You slip through the doors, leaving Natasha blinking, still trying to regain her composure. 

Tony watches with raised eyebrows. 

“Wait a second—she didn’t even say ‘please,’ and you’re making her a whole new pot?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she holds the pot just out of reach of Tony’s mug. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” 

Tony grumbles before muttering a grudging “Yes, please.” 

Satisfied, Natasha pours the coffee, keeping her focus steady. 

“Natasha?” your voice catches her off guard, and she glances up to see you poking your head back into the room. 

“Yes?” she replies a little too quickly, immediately focusing on you. 

Both Clint and Tony fall silent, watching the two of you with curious eyes. 

“Steve’s got a mission tomorrow,” you explain. “Would you mind if I train with you in the meantime?”

Natasha’s mind races for a moment before she steadies herself to answer.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Anytime you want.” 

“Great!” you say enthusiastically before glancing worriedly at the counter. “I think that’s enough coffee.” 

Natasha follows your gaze, eyes widening as she realizes Tony’s cup is overflowing, dark liquid pooling across the counter. She yanks the pot away with a muttered curse. 

“Oh sh—!”

Tony steps back just in time, glaring down at his soaked countertop.

“Really, Romanoff? This is a new suit!” 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grabs paper towels, unruffled by his dramatics. 

“Calm down, it barely even touched you.”

You let out a small laugh. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, shooting her a smile as you exit.

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her attention lingering on the door.

Clint chuckles as he takes another sip, eyeing her knowingly. 

“You’re right, Nat. It’s not a crush,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s way worse.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha flashes one of her most charming smiles, leaning just slightly forward as the receptionist fumbles through her files, cheeks tinged with a rosy hue under Natasha’s intense gaze. 

“Here you go!” the receptionist says, her voice soft as she hands over a key card. “I’m sorry again for the mix-up.”

Natasha’s fingers rest lightly over the receptionist’s hand as she accepts the card, her eyes warm and a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

“No problem at all,” she replies, her tone smooth. “I don’t mind the delay with such lovely company.” 

The receptionist blushes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giving Natasha a flustered smile. 

Natasha’s confident smirk grows as she watches her charms take effect. 

Quick and efficient, she slips the USB drive from the computer, seamlessly hiding it under her palm as it rests over the key card. For a moment, she feels pleased with herself, effortlessly pulling off her usual charisma.

See, she thinks to herself, Clint has no idea what he’s talking about—she’s got plenty of charm.

“Nice job, Natasha,” your voice suddenly crackles in her earpiece, startling her. 

Her hand slips in surprise, almost knocking over the items on the counter. She turns it into a casual adjustment, but not before the receptionist gives her a curious look. 

Natasha quickly smiles, grabbing the key card and offering a polite nod before walking away toward a secluded corner of the lobby.

Pressing a finger to her comms, she mutters, “Y/n? Where’s Clint?” 

“He had to step out for a minute,” you answer. “He asked me to take over. Is that okay?” 

“No–I mean—yes, of course,” Natasha says, the words tumbling out a bit too quickly. 

She straightens, running a hand through her hair as she tries to regain her composure. It’s not like she hadn’t expected you to assist with missions, but the thought of you watching her…

She tamps down the sudden flutter in her chest and forces herself to stay focused.

“Your next target is on the same floor as the key card you just picked up,” you continue, your voice warm and steady in her ear. 

“Got it.” 

“I’ll explain what you’re looking for.”

Natasha nods and begins striding toward the elevators, hoping her sudden focus will drown out the distraction of your voice in her head. 

She tells herself it’s just a mission—professional, routine.

But now, with you guiding her through the next steps, each word falling from your lips makes it harder for her to maintain her usually calm, steady demeanor. 

Her heart beats a little faster, and her cheeks feel a bit warmer than they should. She brushes off the thoughts and keeps walking, determined to stay cool and collected.

“Um…Natasha?”

She stops mid-step. “Hmm?”

“You’re…going the wrong way.”

Natasha freezes, blinking in surprise. She glances around, realizing she’s heading in the opposite direction from the elevators.

A wave of embarrassment sweeps over her as she lets out a quiet curse under her breath.

“Right,” Natasha says, turning with as much dignity as she can muster, her face heating as she finally heads in the correct direction.

Oh, she thinks to herself, she’s definitely going to kill Clint.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha steps out of her room, her leather jacket slung over one arm as she adjusts the zipper. 

Your voice calls her name from down the hall, catching her off guard and making her slam the door shut in a startled motion. She spins to face you, only to be tugged back by an unexpected resistance.

Natasha looks down with a sigh, spotting her jacket sleeve caught in the door. Tugging at it proves ineffective, as it stays firmly wedged in place.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Natasha hastily shoves the jacket behind her back, trying to appear composed. She leans casually against the door, hoping the awkward moment has gone unnoticed.

“Hey,” you greet with a warm smile as you reach her.

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha replies, attempting a relaxed tone.

You eye her with a hint of curiosity. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Natasha says quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Just, um, examining the door. Thought it could use a closer look.”

Your brows raise in amused surprise at her peculiar explanation, but you let it go. 

“Well, once you’re done with that,” you say, playing along, “I made a reservation at that new place downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“Just the two of us?” The words slip out before Natasha can stop herself. 

A flicker of excitement and amusement crosses your face as you nod. 

“Yeah, just us,” you say softly.

Natasha’s heart gives a small flutter, but she maintains her composure. 

“I’d love to,” she says, a smile slipping through despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“Great, it’s a date,” you say, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the garage.” With a playful smirk, you add, “After you finish your ‘inspection,’ of course.”

As you walk toward the elevator, Natasha watches you with a lingering smile.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally frees her jacket and heads to the garage a few minutes later, finding you waiting by her motorcycle.

You hop on behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist in a snug embrace. 

The warmth of your presence makes her feel a fluttering sensation in her chest she can’t shake. Distracted, Natasha blindly reaches for her helmet and slips it on—only to be met with complete darkness.

With a soft sigh, Natasha’s head drops to her chest, realizing she put it on backward. 

The chuckle that escapes your lips behind her is quickly muffled as you clear your throat, your hands reaching to help her. 

You gently remove the helmet, your fingers brushing her cheek as you pull it off.

When Natasha glances back, she catches the playful look in your eyes as you bite back a grin.

Seeing this, Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen and start over? I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

You laugh, unable to hold back anymore. 

“Oh, I know all about the smooth and charming Black Widow,” you say, your gaze warm and teasing. “But I think this side of you is pretty cute too.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks at your words, and Natasha takes the helmet, this time slipping it on correctly, with a soft smile she can’t quite hide anymore.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s another one of Tony’s famous parties, where glittering lights reflect off polished floors and music pulses softly through the spacious hall. 

In the middle of the dance floor, beneath the warm glow, Natasha sways with you, her hands resting gently on your waist as you move together to the rhythm of the soft melody. 

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in and drawing her closer until your lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Natasha smiles softly against your lips, and as you pull back, she rests her forehead gently against yours, eyes half-closed in a moment of quiet contentment. 

Even as the music fades into the background, her hands remain firm on your waist, as if she has no intention of letting go.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” you suggest, glancing over at the bar lined with sparkling glasses.

Natasha only pulls you closer, her fingers brushing lightly along the small of your back as she murmurs, “Or…we could stay right here and have another dance.” 

Her voice is a soft suggestion, and she leans in slightly, her green eyes filled with warmth and alluring charm.

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across your lips. 

“It’s cute how you’re trying to be smooth.”

Natasha’s expression shifts, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, though the faintest blush colors her cheeks.

With a playful glint in your eye, you tilt your head at her in challenge. 

“How long has your bracelet been stuck to my dress?” you ask, giving her a teasing look.

Natasha glances away, the blush deepening as she realizes she’s been caught. She’s spent the past few moments subtly trying to free her wrist from your dress, but to no avail.

“In my defense,” she murmurs, attempting to deflect, “you distracted me with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You chuckle softly at her excuse, reaching up to pull her even closer. With a playful grin, you press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning in to whisper against her ear.

“Think of the bright side—if you can’t get it loose, I’m sure you could just rip this dress off me.”

Natasha’s breath catches, and for a split second, she’s utterly still, her mind stalling at the suggestion. 

You pull back just enough to watch her expression, and a delighted smile grows on your face as she stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered, clearly caught off guard.

It only takes her a moment to catch on, her eyes narrowing in realization as she shakes her head with a playful huff. 

“You’re trying to embarrass me on purpose,” she accuses, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Unashamed, you bite back a laugh and nod. 

“It’s nice to see the calm and collected Black Widow all flustered for once.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a smirk as she pulls you flush against her, her free hand sliding up your back, fingers grazing along your spine. She leans in, her lips just a breath away from yours, the warmth of her gaze intense.

“Only for you,” she murmurs, her voice a hushed promise before closing the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes you forget the world around you, the room fading away as you melt into each other’s embrace.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a short fluff with a soft Natasha that I had finished some time ago. after everything that has happened yesterday and today, I wanted to give some kind of happier distraction, even if it may be only a temporary escape from everything. I’m still going between disbelief, sadness, and anger myself about the situation while also trying to be prepared to continue on. But hopefully, this was able to bring some of you some sort of break from everything else.

[treba-neco-napise]

i didn't finish origins but wade is the the version at the end everyone hates, right???? weird makeup, mouth sewn shut??? dudes i want to know what happened

Perhaps what if he did have a wade in his world?

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 3

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The shadows unceremoniously dumped a whole stack of Sellyn Drake Novels on Azriel’s desk.

Azriel eyed the stack of novels dubiously, wondering how in the Mother's blessed name the Shadows had gotten their hands on these. Or why.

But they stayed silent, clearly waiting for him to outright demand an answer. *Why?* he asked with a long suffering sigh. *What's this about?*

No response.

Azriel reached for one of the books, pulling it off the top of the stack and flipping it over. And immediately he regretted that decision. The cover was…certainly something.

A shirtless man holding a rather skimpily dressed woman up against a wall. 

Azriel let out a long, long sigh.

*You need to read the books, Master,* the shadows told him seriously.

Azriel stared at his shadows, then at the books, then at his shadows. *You cannot possibly be serious.* What exactly was this supposed to give him? 

He flipped it over, reading the synopsis. 

When Lady Eleanor is forced into an unwanted marriage, she despairs—until the enigmatic Sir Tristan, a battle-scarred knight with a fearsome reputation, crashes into her life. Bound by a promise to protect her, Tristan whisks Eleanor away from her gilded prison, thrusting them into a wild escape across enemy lands.

Haunted by his past and wary of love, Tristan tries to keep Eleanor at arm's length. But as they face danger together, a fierce passion grows between them, tempting them to trust in a love that could heal even the deepest wounds.

What the fuck. 

*We are, Master.* The Shadows told him, sounding as earnest as they possibly could.

He opened the book. Titled The Dark Knight’s Desire, flicking through the pages. Was this…a first edition?

*It’s important!* The shadows insisted. *You know…to brush up on these flirting skills of yours.*

Azriel shot the shadows an unamused look. *I can flirt perfectly well,* he protested.

*You most certainly cannot.* The Shadows deadpanned. *It’s research! Read them for her!*

*Read them for…* Azriel started, his voice trailing off.

*You found...* he trailed off weakly. They had found a female for him?

The shadows swirled around him almost playfully. *Of course we did,* they said innocently. *We told you we would, didn’t we?*

They were working quickly. It had only been weeks since he had agreed to let them find him a wife.

*You did,* Azriel said slowly, but his mind was working fast, so fast, trying to wrap around the idea that his Shadows were trying to help him find a wife…and more importantly, that they had found a female they thought he would find suitable.

*Where did you find her?* he asked, carefully.

*Here in Velaris!* the shadows answered brightly.

*Here?* Azriel asked, his surprise obvious. The shadows had found...a female...here in Velaris? Someone who was compatible with him? And they wanted him to read...what were these again? Sellyn Drake novels? So he would know how to best romance this female?

*Read the books, Master,* the shadows said with a sigh. So he did.

And that was how Azriel spent his next few hours. Reading a book, and blushing like some sort of adolescent boy when certain…particularly intimate scenes came around. The Shadows cackled beside him the entire time.

How the fuck did Nesta do this with a straight face?!?

Azriel had no idea, but by the Mother, he was never going to ask her. Ever. He would just die of embarrassment.

Though he needed to admit...he actually quite liked it.

The novels, that is. The…intimate scenes. Azriel liked them. A lot. Not even the...smut, like Nesta called it...no, he liked the love story. He liked the two people that came together and would do everything for each other...the falling in love part. He liked that.

But the Shadows were probably never going to let him live this down. Azriel did find comfort in a single thought, though. Whoever this possible future partner was, she was never going to know about this. There was no way in hell he would let her find out that he read smutty books to brush up his flirting skills.

But even that did not stop the nagging thought in Azriel's head, one that made him hesitate, and doubt himself, and doubt the Shadows' judgment. "What if..." he said softly, hesitantly. "What if she just...doesn't like me?"

He knew he had some...rough edges, to put it kindly. And he had his own...troubles. His own...insecurities. Some of the things he kept to himself, so many of his...issues. The shadows knew of them all, of course…There were many nights they stayed up with him, soothing him when the ghosts in his mind became a little too loud, a little too real.

What if that scared her? He didn't want her to be scared. He didn't want to scare her.

*She'll like you, Master.* The Shadows assured him, wrapping themselves around him comfortingly and soothingly. *She’ll love you.*

He exhaled. *Can you read minds now?*

*Only yours,* the Shadows assured him. *But as long as you don't cheat on her with her sister, you'll be doing a better job than her ex-partners!*

What. 

"Are you seriously reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" Only 5 centuries of training kept him from flinching as he looked up to find Cassian in his doorway.

"Nesta said it was good," he shot back flatly, not hiding the book, because that would just give Cassian even more reason to tease him. 

"You...actually listen to Nesta's...book recommendations?" Cassian stared at him, as if he had grown a third head.

"She is intelligent, and she reads more than either of us," Azriel shot back, sharply. "So yes, if she says it's good, I'll try it."

Cassian gave a slight shake of his head, not believing what he was hearing. "You are…actually reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" He repeated as if he couldn't quite believe that Azriel was actually doing that.

"Yes," Azriel said, his words clipped. "You have a problem with that?"

Cassian just stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "No, I just never thought I would actually see the day that you read a Sellyn Drake novel."

"Well, I like it," Azriel said evenly. "It’s very are well written."

"And smutty," Cassian said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes. "It’s are more than just...smut, Cassian, It actually has a story, and good characters."

"Characters who can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to solve the mystery, you mean," Cassian drawled, but Azriel ignored him, flipping a page. 

."Have you ever actually read a Sellyn Drake novel, Cassian?" Azriel asked, shooting him a look. "Or do you simply judge by the covers?"

Cassian just grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation and how defensive Azriel had become. "The covers are pretty damn attractive though."

Azriel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't respond. Just looked back down at the book, completely ignoring his brother.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassian asked him instead. 

"No," he answered flatly. He did really want to know how the book ended.

*We found a house! We can show it to you!* the shadows hissed at that moment. Huh.

"There is something that needs my attention," Azriel said simply.

Cassian gave him a searching look, a frown etched into his face, but Azriel simple met his gaze. 

"Az," Cassian said quietly. "Come on."

"I have something I need to do, Cassian." Azriel's voice was still flat, but more firm, a clear sign that he did not want any arguments.

"Az," Cassian said again, and this time, there was a small thread of pleading in his voice. "Just… come have dinner with us. Please. It'll be good for you."

Good? Good to sit at Rhys' table and be told to "behave"? Azriel would rather eat crushed glass than do that. Which was the reasons why he skipped out of them as often as he possible could.

He knew, he knew that Cassian was just looking out for him, but that didn't mean that he felt like he was obligated to go.

"I have something I need to do," he repeated, his voice even.

Cassian sighed. "You are so goddamn stubborn," he muttered, but he let the subject drop, clearly knowing that Azriel was not going to listen.

That evening, instead of sitting through that dinner, Azriel let the shadows swirl around him in excitement, tugging on his jacket, practically dragging him forward.

*It's a lovely house, Master!* they said as they wrapped him in their embrace.

He blinked twice as he rematerialised in front of a lake. Somehow not quite what he had expected. But then…then he saw the house.

Grey stone and wood and the biggest windows he had ever seen that promised an breathtaking view over the lake… and nobody around as far as he could see. He stared at the house, a brow raised. It was nice…very nice. A little too nice. Exactly too his taste.

Azriel turned towards the shadows as he raised another brow. *And how exactly did you…* he started with a huff. *You know what, nevermind.*

He could already hear the shadows saying that they asked for a favor in exchange. Or maybe they stole it.

The house was still nice though, perfect really. He just…didn't want to know what they had done to get it.

Azriel glanced towards the building again. He could almost picture himself in the space, walking around, just….simply existing. It was peaceful and quiet…and he would not be…disturbed or bothered.

He could see himself reading in front of the fireplace, looking out into the night sky through the large windows. 

Azriel walked towards the building, his fingers brushing over the wall. He could feel it already….he could already feel his muscles loosening, his shoulders lowering from their stiff position.

Home, he thought as stepped into the space, the shadows following after him as his lips tugged upwards.

Yes, he could already see himself calling it that. Home. He liked the ring of it. 

*You're welcome, Master,* the shadows said as they swirled around him, nuzzling him affectionately. They were happy for him, so very happy for him.

The living room was spacious, filled with  overstuffed couches and armchairs made for wings… the view indeed was spectacular. And one long uninterrupted wall was lined with tall, massive bookshelves.

It was perfect.

*Does she like books?* he couldn't help but ask.

*Yes, Master! She loves books!* The Shadows assured him in an excited chorus.

She liked to read. That was the first little tidbit of information he learned about her.

*Will you tell me something else about her?* he asked them softly, as he kept exploring the house.

*What do you want to know?* the shadows asked.

*Did her ex-partner really cheat on her with her sister?* he wondered aloud.

*Yes. They are engaged to be married now,* the shadows answered. *He's an asshole,* they muttered darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but give a nod in agreement. An ass was too kind. Whoever he was, he was more than that. Azriel hated him, whoever he was.

*Anything else?* he asked the shadows, curious, so damn curious, to know more about the female.

*She has a cat. His name is Hector. He may be the ugliest cat in existence,* the shadows said primly, *but she adores him.*

Not what he expected, but it was...sweet. It was kind. She had a pet cat. His lips tugged upwards into an involuntary smile.

*And...?* he trailed off, waiting for a response. He was greedy, so damn greedy for more, so greedy to get to know the female more. His curiosity about her had grown to a fever pitch, it seemed.

The Shadows hummed thoughtfully. *She is very, very kind, Master,* they finally said softly.

Those words caused Azriel's smile to go soft, so damn soft. His heart fluttered at the Shadows' words. She was kind. She was kind and she had a cat that she adored. Her ex was an ass who cheated on her. She read, liked books, which meant she was intelligent, and…

Was he getting excited about someone he had never even met?

*When...when can I meet her?* he asked softly.

*Soon,* the shadows promised. *She doesn't leave the house that often...*

Azriel's brows drew together at that. *Why not?* he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

The Shadows hesitated for a moment before responding. *People...people aren't very nice to her,* they admitted slowly.

Azriel blinked, confused. People...weren't nice to her...? But…why? What was there not to be nice about? From what he had gleaned, she was kind, had a cat, was smart, and liked books. What was wrong with any of that? It didn't make any sense.

*Why?* he demanded shaprly.*Because people are idiots as usual,* the shadows snapped right back. *People aren't nice to you either.*

Azriel gave a small wince at that, the shadows words hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. But they were right, people weren't all the nicest to him, either.

Still...he didn't like the idea of her being treated poorly. He wanted...Gods, the want was so strong, all of a sudden. The want to…to protect her. To guard her, and protect her. To keep her safe. To make sure she was alright.

*Tell me when she leaves her house,* he demanded.

For a moment he could swear the shadows were nearly frozen in place.

*Change of Plans. Put on a different shirt,* the shadows said quickly. Azriel just stared at them.

*A different shirt?* he asked. He didn't even have any clothing here! That was back at the House of Wind. But the shadows were clearly not taking no for an answer.

He batted away a tendril as it started to unbuckle his fighting leathers and did it himself, only for them to shove him into a shirt that was so dark green it was nearly black and then start fussing with his hair.

Azriel barely had time to even process what was happening before the shadows were pushing him towards the door, still trying to fix and smooth his hair and clothes as they moved forward.

*What is the change of plan?* he asked them

*You are getting to see her right now,* the shadows said with a hint of glee to their voice. *Her sister and some friends are taking her to a bar.*

*The same sister that cheated on her with her ex-partner?* he demanded.

*Yes,* the shadows agreed in a hiss. 

Great. So he was going to have to stop a fight from happening, all while trying to meet the female he apparently was connected to? That was a...recipe for disaster right there..

*She'll be at the Crystal Drop* the shadows informed him, and his heart gave a strange little clench at those words. He was...he was actually going to get to meet her. Tonight.

The feeling of excitement was back, rushing through him like a wildfire. But there was also a hint of trepidation, a hint of nervousness. What if he screwed it all up? What if he messed things up? His stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

Azriel didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, though, as the shadows gave him a little nudge forward again, all but forcing him to start moving towards the tavern.

He could see it in the distance, the sign proclaiming it as “Crystal Drop”. It...it was right there. She was there... 

Taking a deep breath, he headed towards the bar, his heart pounding in his chest with every step that he took closer to the entrance. Gods, his hands were shaking. 

He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was

He entered the tavern, and his eyes automatically went to the crowd, searching for...something.

The shadows let him towards a place in a corner where he could view the whole bar and he ordered a single fireale, because he was not getting drunk. He wanted his wits about him when he met her. 

But right now…right now, Azriel settled in to watch.

He watched the crowd, his eyes roving around, searching the whole tavern once again. He just wanted to know where the group was. He wanted to know where...she was.

*Do you see her, Master?* the shadows asked him, nearly teasingly.

*I have absolutely no clue how she looks, so how should I?* he gave back in a growl. The door opened and he watched as a group of females poured in...and then right there at the edges of that group...

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her, and...oh.

Between one blink and the next everything changed. A golden bond unfurled in his chest, connecting him to her.

Her.

He knew it.

She was his mate.

Mine. He whispered in his head, barely more than a thought. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every part of his heart.

He took her in hungrily. 

She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from going over to her right then and there. 

He could hardly breathe. He couldn't form a coherent thought. His whole world had suddenly narrowed to the sight in front of her. His mate.

*Master?* There was alarm in the shadows voices as his breathing became near erratic.

*She's...You found my mate,* he said weakly.

The shadows hummed in confirmation and his eyes were glued to her still, drinking her in. She had long brown hair with soft curls, falling over back, bangs framing a rounded face with high cheekbones and plump cheeks...full rosy lips too and adorable freckles dotting over her nose...

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.  She was simply...stunning. 

And mine, he thought to himself. She was his. She was his mate.

He didn't even look at the rest of the group. Just focused on the one...the one who was at the edge of the group, seemingly trying to vanish, to become invisible. 

Even from the distance, Azriel could see the tension in his mate’s form. He frowned slightly at that. He didn't like it, seeing her like that.

He...his instincts were starting to kick in, a soft, protective urge rising up in him. He wanted to go to her, to...to stand by her side and ease away whatever was bothering her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, just...just watching her. Just watching his mate, the sight of her soothing every single little part of him until he felt warm all over.

He let the group settle at a table a few feet away from him, forcing himself to look down on the bottle in front of him and not stare at his mate like a total creep.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the whole conversation. Apparently it was his mate’s sisters Hen Party, the kind of celebration that some High Fae Females had before they got married.

Nice. Why not bring along your sister, when you were engaged to the guy that cheated with you on said sister?

The fact that his mate even came along into this bar that evening was probably a sign of how fucking nice she was. And Gods...no wonder his mate was so anxious...this whole thing was just...a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced towards the group again, his attention once again immediately falling on his mate. He could see it, the small twitch of her fingers, the tightening of her lips...the small little things, and he felt his heart wrench at the sight.

She didn't talk. She was just sitting there silently, while the other females had a raucous conversation, that she wasn't part of. It made him bristle.

He didn't understand why they were doing that, why she wasn't a part of the conversation. She was right there. But they weren't listening, they weren't noticing her...or maybe they were ignoring her on purpose.

He...he didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all.  

Just minutes later, Azriel realised that he should have wished that they kept ignoring her.

Because Azriel was quite certain that he was going to slit his mate's sister's throat with Truthteller if she said one more word. 

The blonde, her sister, stared at his mate and this time a sharp, nasty smile curled on her lips. "Oh, what's the matter, little sister? Mad that I nabbed the male you were going to marry?" she taunted with a malicious grin. "I guess he just liked me better."

Azriel was so shocked that he could just sit there, staring. 

The other females laughed as the blonde continued, her lips curled in a sneer. "You should be happy for me, really," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "After all, you could never keep him happy. You've always been useless, haven't you?"

The comments made Azriel see red. What the hell was wrong with this female? Who treated their own sister like this? 

He had half a mind to go over there and wring her neck. 

*Don’t,* his shadows hissed. *You’ll make it worse.*

*Make it worse?! It can’t fucking get worse!* he hissed back. 

He itched to go over to the group, to protect his mate from these cruel, cruel words. 

*Yes, it can,* the shadows snapped. *What do you want to do? Massacre her sister right in front of her?!* Azriel growled under his breath. 

*Normally you are much more bloodthirsty,* he complained to the shadows. 

*You are the fucking spymaster. Act like it,* the shadows snapped. *You want us to make her sister’s life a misery? We’ll do it. We’ll do it and it will never be traced back to you. Besides, she deserves worse than a quick death.*

He clenched his teeth. 

The other females were laughing, but his mate...wasn't. She wasn't saying a single word, wasn't defending herself, wasn't saying anything. Just...just sitting there and taking the horrible abuse with a neutral, blank expression on her face.

"Cat got your tongue?" her sister asked her with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it's not like you're good at talking, are you?" she asked her with a cruel little laugh. "Too bad for you that males want females that are able to have a conversation, not awkward little things who can't even speak when spoken to."

Azriel's body tensed as he listened to the words, every muscle coiled tight. It took every ounce of his control not to stride over to the group of females and punch her sister straight in the face. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to protect his mate.

The comment clearly found it's target, Azriel could see his mate flinch at the words, her face crumbling momentarily before it smoothed over into a neutral expression again. Gods...it must've hurt so badly to hear her sister speak to her like that…

*We’ll ruin her fucking life,* he vowed to the shadows. 

*Agreed, Master.”

Her sister rolled her eyes another time. "Come on, let's go," she told the other females. "You have the bill, don't you, Skylar?"

The words made Azriel snap. So the sister hadn't intended to even pay for her drinks in the first place? It was…they had just used her, he realised suddenly. Used her for the first stop on their tavern tour, to pick up the drink tab…and that was all she was good for in their eyes…

It was...Azriel couldn't stand by and watch this anymore, it made him so angry. So fucking furious.

"Ye...yes," his mate stuttered.

She looked so small in that moment, her eyes averted, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling. She looked...wounded, so hurt, and Azriel was...he was sick of seeing her just accept this verbal abuse without a word. 

They left. They should thank the cauldron that they left at that moment, because otherwise Azriel would have made Cassian at his worst look like a puppy.

He wanted to storm after them, to give every single person in the group a piece of his mind, but that could wait. The most important thing right now was his mate. She was still here, after all. Azriel took a deep breath, and slowly, almost hesitantly walked towards her.

He watched as she didn't move, and he finally decided to speak, his voice a low, soft murmur. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Her head turned, and he felt his heart stop as her eyes met his for the first time. Up close, her eyes were...mesmerizing. A deep, sparkling blue, framed by long, lush eyelashes. He couldn't look away from her.

And she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes near comically wide.

He gave her a soft, slow smile. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice gentle. She blinked a few times, still staring at him, and he found it so cute, how shocked she was that he was talking to her. 

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She was staring at him like a poor bunny rabbit would at an apex predator , caught in his grasp.

For just a moment her scent went utterly haywire.

Caramel and Hazelnuts. So sugary sweet that he would have gladly rolled around in it. And she just stared at him, wide eyed, silent...until suddenly the scent changed to incadescent happiness.

"Oh." A small sound escaped her as she swallowed.

And he knew. He knew at that moment that the bond had just snapped for her.

[webism]

"and whenever you smile at me, i promise to smile back."

it was a stupid vow, but one you made to satoru at the altar regardless. he had tears in his blue eyes and his lips were quivering and in the moment you really meant it, but god can he be an asshole.

like when he's denying you an orgasm. and he has you on your back, legs parted and hips rocking up against his tongue as he makes out with your pussy like he's on death row. he knows you on a molecular level, every inching indicator of your coming orgasm, and as soon as you give yourself away he's pulling back and wiping his lips while you groan because this is the third time this week.

and when he looks down at you with those puppy dog eyes and flashes you the biggest grin he can manage, you want to flip him off and make him sleep on the couch. you nearly do.

"you made a vow to me, baby," he tsks. "cmon, let me see that pretty smile of yours."

you turn your lips up, just enough to hold true to your vow. "id smile more if you let me cum."

"wrong," satoru shrugs, "you look like this—" he parts his lips and rolls his eyes back dramatically "—when you cum."

"fuck you," you look away, but his hand is quick to shoot out and turn your gaze back onto him. he's pulling his hard cock from his sweats and tapping the tip against your clit a few times before sighing.

"i'm going to, bossy."

and he pushes into you with a sick pace that has you feeling each hard inch of him. you'll never get used to it, to the way he stretches you out and sends you dizzy with just his cock.

"you look dick drunk already," he grins, you shoot him a sarcastic smile in turn.

you grab his bulging bicep with your left hand, the ring on your finger cool against his warm skin. it makes his hips stutter, having you claimed by him in more than one way: with the heavy rock he put on your finger and with his aching cock deep inside of you.

you know what he's going to do, try and edge you again and again until you go stupid on his cock and finally beg. but the way he reacts to just your wedding ring alone gives you a sick idea. you're still hot from him eating you out—it won't take much to push you over the edge.

"my toru," you hum, and smile a little as you feel his pace increase. "how'd i end up with such a pretty husband?"

he shakes his head, white locks falling into his eyes. "stop, i know what you're—"

"marrying you was the best decision of my life, baby," you continue, and bring your ringed hand up to hold the side of his face. his hips buck into you a little faster, a little wilder. "but i want you to fuck me like you did on our wedding night. till i was nauseous with how deep you were inside me. really made me yours, huh baby?"

that's all it takes. he's cutting off your intake of breath with a kiss and sustaining you on his essence alone. his cock splits you open at depths you think shouldn't be possible, and with each mean thrust of his hips into yours the headboard hits the wall in rhythmic mirror of your lusts.

and satoru chides himself: he thought denying you would be fun, a cheeky way to rile you up and get you begging for just the tip if its all he'd gift you with. but he's your husband, your other half: you aren't whole without him and he's empty when not filling you. he fucks you hard and quick and mean but with so much love you'd swear it was your wedding night all over.

and when you finally think you're going to cum, satoru encourages you with quick circles over your clit and the sweetest of praise from his lips. he loves you, he loves everything about you, there's no stronger aphrodisiac than your pleasure.

you cum hard around his cock and milk an orgasm out of him in turn. he fills you, claims you as his all over, and moans symphonies as he does so. your chest heaves, breath lost on you, and when he smiles down at you you're barely seeing straight enough to smile back.

he leans down to kiss you, a hungry kiss. "gonna fuck you so dumb and see if you still remember making that vow, okay baby?"

[moonheecore]

Oops, Juno? — sjy (m)

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake X Afab! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), fluff, slight angst, college AU, established relationship

Warnings: Soft Dom! Jake, protected & unprotected sex, baby daddy Jake, condom tempering (not by Jake), toxic mother trope, abortion mentioned, frat parties, multiple orgasm, oral (f. receiving), dirty talking, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, slight lactation kink, cream pie, squirting, body worship, body changes during pregnancy mentioned, slight degradation but mostly praising, hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else. 

Summary: Getting accidentally pregnant was the last thing you ever imagined. You were still in school, with so many plans for the future ahead of you. Yet, you felt certain that keeping the baby was the decision you wanted to make. What would your aloof mother think? and, perhaps most importantly, you wonder if Jake would feel the same way?

a/n: obviously, this fic was inspired by Sabrina’s song but my friend recently showed me this cute movie called Look Both Ways, which I took heavy inspiration from as well. So enjoy baby daddy Jake! Please reblog and leave comments— not just likes!

Main masterlist

Word count: 16k

The bass of the music from downstairs were only a faint echo in your mind, the party a mere distraction compare to what you and your boyfriend were about to do in the frat house's microscopic bathroom.

Everything in your spatial consciousness was spinning in the best way possible. You were in that sweet spot of being drunk from the shots of tequila, yet sober enough to feel the highs of Jake’s lips pressing messily against yours.

He had your back arched against the sink, his body pressed so close to yours that you couldn’t help but melt under his overpowering presence. You moaned loudly into his mouth as his sinful tongue slipped past your parted lips, the deep kiss becoming desperate and full of lust.

The warmth of his mouth and the taste of him, mixed with the bitter spirits, sent your heart racing. His large hands soon glided along the underside of your thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt to grope the soft flesh of your ass. You tug at the soft strands of his hair tangled between your fingers, leaving his freshly permed curls disheveled.

"Fuck, miss you so much." He moaned, plump lips not even taking a second's break from sucking on your saliva coated lips. "How the hell did I survive without having my dick in you for so long.”

You giggled at his cuteness, pulling back slightly to give him a peck on the nose. “It’s only been one week, Jake, not forever.”

“Feels like forever,” He whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet scent. You let out a soft sigh as he started kissing your skin, leaving a trail of sloppy nibbles and licks that were sure to turn into prominent hickeys by the next day.

"But you know what I look forward to?" he sighed, mouthing at your delicate pulse as you crumbled with every lingering suck he left on your skin. You let out a soft hum, signaling you were listening, but were caught off guard when he suddenly hooked his arms under your knees and lifted you to sit on the slightly damp sink.

The new position allowed your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands threading around his neck as your fingers tangled in the soft hair at his nape. He was perfectly slotted between your thighs, giving him the freedom to shamelessly roll his hips into your core. Your eyes fluttered closed, and soft, whiny moans escaped you as you felt his hard on rubbing against your dripping center.

Jake looked at you, eyes hooded with lust, pupils blown out wide, and that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Feeling just how tight your little pussy will be around my cock.”

Just the sound of his sultry accent was enough to make you moan with desire, your lips crashing back into his in a clumsy, heated embrace. The two of you exchanged thick globs of saliva, noses brushing as you breathed each other’s air like it was oxygen. Your skirt rode up as he flipped it to reach the hem of your lace panties, tugging at the fabric haphazardly until they slid down to your knees, exposing your dripping core. Meanwhile, you hurriedly worked to unbuckle his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles.

“Jake,” You gasped, pulling away to catch your breath, your lips bruised and swollen. “Just fuck me right now— I can’t wait any longer.”

“No prep?" Jake rested his forehead against yours, a slight hint of worry flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure?" As much as he wanted to feel your walls engulf him with as little space as possible, the thought of hurting you gnawed at him, despite how horny and drunk he was.

“Jakey, please, need you to fuck me hard until I’m loose.”

You gave him that needy look— the one with that wild, almost unhinged glint in your eyes that he knew all too well. It was the same look that reminded him why he wanted to fuck you forever, burying himself inside you and staying there until the world fell apart. The heat of your words drew a deep, guttural growl from him, a sound filled with raw need, frustration, and the kind of bliss only you could give him.

"Condom, inside my chest pocket, now."

You didn’t hesitate as you reached for a condom from his jacket. Jake’s husky voice casting a spell that sent heat straight to your core, thickening the air with anticipation and arousal. The sharp sound of the plastic tearing open sent a thrill through your body, amplifying the intensity of the moment. Jake was just as eager, stroking his hard, leaking cock in preparation as you carefully rolled the condom down his length.

"Fuck, you're dripping, baby" Jake gripped your hips firmly, his other hand guiding the base of his cock as he teasingly circled the tip against your gaping hole. A gush of arousal soaked your folds, running down your inner thighs, and Jake had to bite his lip at how beautifully drenched you looked. "So fucking wet for me."

You let out a sharp gasp as he pressed his swollen head past your entrance, followed by a loud moan when he buried his entire cock inside you in one swift motion, not giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist to steady yourself. Your walls burned from the tight stretch, stinging with the fullness of his girth. Yet, you couldn’t help but buck your hips, the mix of pain and pleasure surging through your veins.

Jake began to pace himself once he bottomed out fully inside you, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider to give himself more room to thrust in and out with ease.

“Pussy’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, wincing at the vice-like grip your gummy walls had on him. Jake was losing his mind at how your dripping cunt fought to keep him inside, gripping him so hard he could barely move. Yet, the friction created as he forced himself out and slammed back in felt deliciously sublime, prompting him to increase the speed of his hips as he chased every bit of pleasure like a madman.

“Gonna make you remember the shape of my cock, right, baby?” he asked, letting out a soft measured laugh at your fucked-out expression.

The space between your eyebrows scrunched up each time his fat tip hit the deepest parts of your insides, and the back of your head repeatedly thudded against the mirror with the force of his thrusts. You couldn’t help but let out a strangled sound as his cock filled you completely with overwhelming pleasure. The drag of his delicious veins against your tender walls made your tongue slip out, caught in a haze of ecstasy that intensified the throbbing pressure in your stomach.

“Shit, you’re so cute when you can’t think straight, doll,” He cooed, sinking precisely into your sensitive cervix for what felt like the millionth time that night, just to hear how wet you were. The loud squelching of your juices echoed through the bathroom, and you were certain Jake was reveling in the wet, messy heat of it all.

"So fucking sexy like this." His fingernails dug into the plush of your thighs, holding you still as he pounded into you. Jake pressed a kiss by your ear, groaning, his voice a husky whisper as his thumb sneaked between your bodies to rub your aching clit. "Makes me wanna ruin you 'til you can't close your legs like a slut."

His reckless touch on your swollen pearl sent jolts of pleasure through you, your body trembling as the impending release built up inside you. Your stomach tightened, a surge of ecstasy rising so intensely it felt like you were on the verge of exploding, his cock reaching so deep that you can feel him in your lungs—

"J-Jake!" His name spilled from your lips, trembling and edged with agony from the overwhelming pleasure. "I'm so close, fuck, I—I’m gonna cum."

"I know, baby," Jake gritted out, teeth clenched as your walls squeezed and throbbed around him erratically. He knew you were close, especially with the way your hands tugged at his damp hair and your head shook vigorously as he continued to tease your clit with expert precision.

"Come for me, that’s it, beautiful—"

You felt the familiar blinding lights taking over your vision as you came undone on his cock within seconds. Jake didn’t stop bucking his hips while your body slumped heavily against the sink before finally stilling with one last hard thrust. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips uttered curses aloud as it became increasingly wet, sloppy, and messy between your legs. There was so little room between your bodies that his balls were practically suction-cupping themselves to your ass, filling the condom with his creamy release.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily into the small space between you. Your mouths hovered just an inch apart, breathing hard from the intensity, while the air around you thickened, heavy with the humid scent of sex and sweat.

As the fog in your mind started to clear and your heartbeat slowed enough for you to catch your breath, Jake pulled his cock out of you, rolling off the used condom and tying it before tossing it aside. But your gaze lingered on him— his chest heaving, his eyes dark with lingering arousal, and his wet cock still hard against his abdomen.

"Fucking hell," Jake cursed, desperation thick in his voice as he cupped your jaw, his eyes pleading for your attention. His other hand brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. "I need to fuck you again, baby, please. I'm so fucking horny for you." There was pain hinted at the edge of his tongue, his pleading gaze ignited something primal within you. You were both exhausted, yet the sheer need in his eyes made it impossible to resist.

Ignoring the tremor in your legs, you let Jake manhandle you, spinning you around and bending you over the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection, your hair and makeup in disarray, while Jake hastily put on another condom. It was the first time he had ever asked for a second round, and the sheer need in your body triggered a craving to feel his cock stretching you again, yearning to experience every inch of him filling you up once more.

He bunched your skirt up, rocking his head against your entrance before pushing his entire cock inside you with little resistance. You relaxed your walls to welcome him wholeheartedly, and both of you let out satisfying moans in unison. Jake didn’t miss a beat, immediately thrusting at an ungodly pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough for you to feel the sting of his hold. You felt a slight pinch of pain from his roughness, yet it only added to the pleasure that began to build, to the point where you started to lose track of where you began and he ended.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jake swore he was fucking in love with the way you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, watching your jiggling ass bounce with every collision of flesh against his abdomen. “Could fuck this pretty pussy every second, and I still wouldn’t get enough of it.”

You choked back your tears and saliva as Jake tangled his fingers in your hair, roughly pulling you back and forcing your spine to arch. The new angle allowed him to strike your cervix relentlessly, making you scream in pleasure, loud enough that the entire party probably knew you were having sex at this point. You glanced at his reflection, his head thrown back as he moaned and hissed every time you squeezed your walls around his sensitive length deliciously.

The pressure in your stomach teetered on the edge, your clit throbbing madly as Jake split you open relentlessly, leaving you feeling like a ragdoll, surrendering to his every desire. The stimulation was so intense that you could taste your second release on the tip of your tongue. But this one was different from the first— far more intense. It struck you that you were on the brink of squirting from sheer overstimulation.

"C-Can't take it anymore—" you gasp, desperately clawing at the smooth surface of the sink for leverage. "Need you to fill me up and make me full.”

That was all it took for your boyfriend to feel outmatched, pushing him over the edge and making him fully commit to ravishing you to your core. Like a switch flipping, Jake shifted, bending one of your legs onto the counter as he planted his foot firmly on the tiled floor, mounting your lower half and stretching your pussy mercilessly. The force had your chest pressed flat against the surface as you gasped for air.

“Gotta fill you up, little slut,” he taunted right in your ear, but his voice faltered as he neared his own high, using his words to push both of you closer to the edge. “I’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you, baby, you won’t even be able to squeeze all of me out.”

Jake smirk haughtily as all you could do was to reach back and pull his thighs closer as he fucked you like his personal flashlight.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Love it when a part of me's swimming inside you.” At this moment, Jake was practically spouting dirty thoughts off the top of his head, biting his lip to suppress an almost whiny moan, holding on to his high just a little longer to let you drown in yours first.

Your response was reduced to fucked-out babbling, making Jake almost chuckle at how ethereal you looked breaking apart because of his cock. In the back of your foggy mind, you wished the barrier of the latex condom would disappear, imagining how raw and textured he’d feel stroking every inch of your walls.

Just the thought of that sent you spiraling over the edge, the once heated sensation bursting like millions of butterflies in your stomach as waves of pleasure constricted your throat. Jake looked down to see your sweet juices pouring between your legs, drenching his thighs and the floor below as you hit your second orgasm in complete bliss.

Burying his face in your hair, Jake’s frame lurched greedily, releasing himself right after you. He choked out groans after groans, emptying ropes of hot cum into the condom. It didn’t take long for him to finish, relishing the solace of the afterglow, yet he stayed wrapped around you from behind, shielding you before you could collapse in exhaustion.

"Good job, sweetheart. Just like that, I've got you, baby girl."

Jake could say the filthiest and meanness things during sex, but moments like this made you appreciate the beautiful juxtaposition of it all— a perfect balance of wild and soft.

"You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of my pretty girl. Always so good for me."

He kissed the side your forehead, showering you with honey-coated compliments as you rested your head in your hands in complete surrender, softly sobbing at how wrecked you felt after such intense pleasure. Everything felt perfect and warm as he let you catch your breath and calm your nerves, his hands gently squeezing your thighs for comfort. Before long, the party's music filtered back into the room, and the muffled sounds of others laughing drunkenly passed through the hallway behind the closed door, signaling that you both were beginning to regain your bearings and clean up the mess you’ve made.

“What are you smiling at?” you shot him a side-eye from the mirror as you fixed your mascara, catching Jake leaning against the sink, arms crossed, watching you with complete bliss and biting his lip to hold back a grin. You both knew it would be tough to rejoin your friends without looking like you’d just had mind-blowing sex. Then again, your social circle was all too familiar with you and Jake disappearing suddenly—it was no secret what the two of you had been up to.

“Jake, seriously, you’re starting to creep me out,” you added, eyeing him suspiciously as his grin widened.

"Hmm, I don't know," Jake mused, sighing contentedly as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist, resting the bridge of his nose on your shoulder to bask in your scent. The soft light illuminated his face, making his eyes glimmer like you were the center of his world. "I think I need to make you squirt more often, because that was so fucking hot."

You let out a scoff. “Yeah, maybe its because you won’t stop running your mouth about your freaky breeding kink on me,” You teased, playfully rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“C'mere, baby, let me put a baby in you.” Jake leaned in with a mock pout, pulling you closer into his side. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he lowered his voice to an exaggerated sultry whisper.

"Eww, Jake, stop it!" You shoved his face, feigning annoyance but laughing at how ridiculous he was.

The genuine laughter you shared made the moment feel pure and carefree, a blissful innocence that you cherished with Jake. It was almost naive, as if you were both untouched by the weight of the world. Looking back, those playful words were more than just a joke— they were a subtle hint of the storm brewing, the harsh reality that fate had quietly set in motion.

You felt like your whole world was turning upside down, and it wasn’t just figuratively— it was literal. The familiar burn of nausea crept up your throat, your stomach twisting as the astringent taste started to rise up to your esophagus, making everything spin.

Two red lines stared back at you, the cause of it all. The first test brought denial, the second was to make sure, and the third was acceptance— gripped by absolute shock as the reality set in.

You were definitely pregnant.

This had to be a bad dream, right? So why weren’t you waking up from this nightmare that was becoming your reality? You sat on the toilet for what felt like forever, tears blurring your vision as your blood ran cold, leaving you physically trembling. Just as you were on the verge of spiraling, teetering on the edge of losing it, you summoned the last bit of strength you had left and reached for your phone to call your best friend.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Lena stammered at the other line of the call, obviously shocked by the sudden news. “I mean, it could be a faulty test, right? It happens all the time. Maybe you just took it too early, or—” She trailed off, grasping for any reason to make sense of situation.

“I took three tests, Lena. All of them were positive. I've been throwing up all day,” You cut her off, managing to say the words with surprising calmness. “…and I didn’t get my period last month.”

That last sentence dropped like a bombshell in the conversation, heavy and palpable. You found yourself staring at the tiles on the floor, feeling your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

"My mom's gonna kill me," You confessed, sniffling as tears pooled down your cheeks.

"Then she'll have to walk over my dead body to get to you,"

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your eyes as your best friend's fierce protectiveness washed over you like a safety net.

Since sophomore year, she had been your unwavering rock, and sharing a room had forged an unbreakable bond between you two. You had witnessed each other’s tears, shared countless laughter-filled nights, and navigated through the chaos of sleepless mornings. In that moment, you realized how deep your connection truly ran, and how you would always stand by each other— no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"You're at your mom's for the weekend, right?" Lena asked, her voice laced with concern. "Did she say anything?"

You shook your head, wiping away the streaks of tears. "No, she's out with her friends. I told her I had a stomach bug, so she just left me alone." The lie tasted bitter, but you couldn't bring yourself to face the truth with her yet.

You'd never had a great relationship with your mother.

Since childhood, her overbearing nature always overshadowed any sense of nurture. To outsiders, she might have seemed strict, but to you, she was much more than that. Your relationship felt like a façade— one-sided and suffocating. She controlled every detail of your life: the school you attended, the friends you made, the choices you had— all under the guise of it being for your own good.

It was isolating, exhausting, but how could you have known any different?

That was the only kind of 'love' you'd ever experienced from her.

As a woman, you understood her fear— that she didn’t want you to end up like her, a single mother struggling to make ends meet. But as a daughter, you felt lost, torn between resentment and attachment. Despite everything, a part of you still craved her approval, even after all these years, no matter how insecure she made you feel.

The memories came crashing down all at once, drowning your mind with an intensity that you couldn’t ignore. Layer by layer, the real emotion beneath it all surfaced, raw and exposed, stripping away every defense you’d built.

"Lena," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a fragile plea that echoed through the cold, empty bathroom of your mother’s house.

"I'm so fucking scared."

You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, realizing you might have overburdened Lena with such heavy responsibility. Then came the small sniffles, and your heart ached for her. Lena had always been the strong one between the two of you— the sensible one who didn’t let emotions or opinions sway her. But when it came to you, she never hesitated to show her vulnerability.

"Y/N, I'm here for you," Lena's voice was steady, a lifeline in the chaos. "If the odds are against you every step of the way, just know I'll always be there. You're stronger than you think, whether you believe it or not. We'll get through this, okay? Believe it."

The fear slowly dissipated from your body. It was still there, lingering in the background, but the relief of having an anchor, someone to hold you steady, eased some of the weight. It didn’t mean everything would be fine, but at least you weren’t facing it alone.

“Are you planning to tell Jake about the pregnancy?"

You leaned back, feeling the weight of yet another hurdle coming your way.

Oddly enough, you weren’t as stressed about telling Jake as you thought you would be. You knew, without a doubt, the baby was his. It had always been him, from the very beginning until now. No matter the circumstances, you both always used protection, and it made the situation feel unfair, frustrating even, that this was happening despite being so careful.

"I'll have to tell him, won't I?" You bit the inside of your cheek, fingers raking through your hair as the weight of the decision settled in. From the other end, you heard Lena hum softly, offering silent support. "It makes me feel guilty, keeping it from him," you continued, your voice softer now. "He deserves to know too."

"If that's your decision, Y/N, then I'm all for it," Lena's voice was like a lifeline, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a small sense of relief.

"We’ll talk more when you're back. For now, rest up and eat something, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed softly. "Thank you, Lena. I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

As the call ended, silence filled the bathroom, the weight of everything crashing back down. You stood up slowly, shoving the pregnancy test into your pocket before heading to the sink. The cold water felt like a shock to your system as you splashed it on your face, trying to freshen up, trying to calm the storm inside. Your mom would be home any minute, and you needed to pull yourself together before you faced her.

But as you glanced at the mirror, you froze. Taking a step back, you caught your full reflection. Your hand instinctively drifted to your stomach, resting there, your eyes fixated on that part of your body as if it held something fragile, something precious.

Without hesitation, you had already made up your mind.

The decision was clear, solidified in your heart. Now, it was only a matter of telling the people around you— facing them head-on, no matter the reactions, no matter the consequences thrown at you. You knew what you wanted, and nothing could change that. The hardest part was yet to come, but you were ready. Or at least, you had to be, for the sake of the baby.

You and Lena stood on the front porch of the frat house, the thumping bass of the music vibrating through the ground, colorful lights flashing from the windows. A group of guys passed by, carrying crates of booze, laughing and shoving each other as they rushed inside. This was just another typical Friday night, the same parties you'd been to countless times before.

But this time, it was different.

What once felt thrilling now felt heavy. It had only been three days since you found out you were pregnant, and now it was finally time to tell Jake the truth. Breaking the news during a party wasn’t ideal, but with exam season looming just a few weeks away, he had been buried in his studies and packed schedules. Before you left to visit your mother, you had promised him you would meet him at the party his frat brothers were hosting. You wanted to tell him sooner rather than later, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you.

“Ready?” Lena asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded, even though your mind was far from prepared. Still, your body moved forward, stepping into the house with a single intention in mind.

As always, the frat party was a chaotic mess— a dumpster fire than anything resembling fun.

People spilled out into the backyard, filling every corner with shouts of excitement and laughter. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled beer, and a faint haze of smoke. You maneuvered through clusters of people, dodging arms flailing from overenthusiastic dancers, while a group of guys at the far end chanted loudly, egging on someone attempting to chug down a towering concoction that was far too much for any person to handle.

Lena had already left to meet your other flat mates, Ningning, who were somewhere in the mayhem as well. She had insisted on staying with you, but you reassured her that you needed to do this on your own. She gave you an encouraging smile, though it was strained with concern, mouthing “good luck” before vanishing into the crowd.

You scanned the room quickly, eyes darting in hopes of catching a glimpse of your boyfriend in the crowd, but he was nowhere in sight. Giving up, you headed towards the dim hallway leading to the back rooms, where you spotted Sunghoon and Jay leaning casually against the wall, deep in conversation with red cups in hand. Their eyes lit up when they saw you approaching.

You shoot them a small smile. “Hey guys, have you seen Jake in this mess?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on his chest to feign offense. “I’m gonna ignore how rude that sounded, 'cause you’re looking at the mastermind of it all,” he joked, causing you to laugh when you saw Sunghoon rolling his eyes at his friend.

“He went to grab more drinks for the beer pong game later,” Sunghoon chimed in, loud enough over the music, nodding toward the kitchen. “You might find him there.”

You thanked them and made your way toward the kitchen, grateful for the chance to escape the chaos of the main party. The noise dulled slightly as you reached the quieter part of the house, the kitchen door slightly ajar. Fewer people lingered here, just a couple of others milling around, chatting quietly. It was a breather from the overwhelming energy outside— an oasis of calm amidst the havoc.

You spotted your boyfriend's figure from afar, wearing the familiar denim jacket he always lent you over one of his hoodies— the same ones you were sure you'd 'stolen' and given back a dozen times. He was crouched down by the huge fridge, hauling out what you assumed to be chilled alcohol for the game later. You carefully approached him from behind.

“I swear to God, if you're here to yap at me for being slow—”

“I thought you liked it when I yap and you listen,” You mused, snickering as he let out a surprised “What the fuck!” and almost hit his head on the top of the fridge.

He stood up with a playful grin once he recognizes your voice, the corners of his smile stretching so wide that his cheekbones popped out. His eyes glinted under the dim kitchen light before he swooped you off your feet, wrapping you in a tight hug.

You never knew how much you needed his embrace until you felt it.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of fresh laundry and the warmth of summer sunlight. His hands held your almost fragile frame gently— one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other ran softly through your hair. The tenderness, laced with a sense of quiet possessiveness, made you melt instantly. His laughter rang like music in your ears, almost pulling you out of the moment, reminding you that soon you’d have to tell him you were pregnant. The thought made you cling to him tighter before he could pull away and break the hug.

"Sorry, I thought you were Jay just now," he apologies with a chuckle, closing the fridge door.

You pulled back, “Jay? Wow, I knew I was second place, but didn’t think I’d lose out to him.”

“Please, don’t.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s been at my ass all day, and I don’t want him ruining our time tonight, yeah?” Leaning down, he pressed a loving peck to your lips, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You hummed softly in response, a smile creeping onto your face, but inside, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you. You were about to drop a bombshell that could change everything, and the thought made your heart race. “I get it. Just focus on having fun tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of your secret.

Jake took a deep breath, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “I actually have some good news to tell you,” he said, glancing at you with a wide grin that made your heart flutter.

Your curiosity piqued, and you leaned in closer. “What is it?”

He couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “I got a call from the aerospace company that I applied to as my first choice for my internship, and…” He paused, glancing up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he bit his lower lip.

“I got in.”

Your heart drop to the floor, a mix of apprehension profuse the joy swirling within you.

Fuck, you were so incredibly happy for him. You had witnessed him at his hardest, and you understood just how much this fruit of his labor meant to Jake. As a literature student who could barely remember where the calculator app was on your phone, you felt worlds apart from his major. Yet, you knew how tirelessly he had worked, calling you late at night to share his worries and pour out his hopes and dreams. This was the only reputable company that could offer him a decent wage in exchange for experience and rapport in the future.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him.

You stared at him, unsure how to react appropriately with your current mindset, your heart aching with a sunken, bitter feeling. The light in his eyes shone like beacons as he waited for your response, expecting you to share in his joy and rapture over the achievement, totally oblivious to your internal struggles. But as you opened your mouth and then closed it again, words eluded you, and heavy breaths made the air feel suffocating.

You have to tell him, you have to tell him now.

“Hey, love, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything okay?” Jake sensed something was wrong immediately, reaching out to squeeze your shoulders as he studied your expression. Concern furrowed his brow, and his voice softened.

You have to, you have to tell him, the nagging voice in the back of your mind insisted, drowning out Jake's worried tone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing the weight of the secret you were holding.

“J-Jake,” You breathed out, forcing yourself to calm down as you swallowed hard the tears down. He looked back at you, his gaze so delicate and tender that it eased some of the tension in your body. This was it. You were finally going to tell him.

“Jake, I’m—”

Your phone rang, interrupting the moment and pulling you back to a nervous wreck. The incoming call distracted you just enough to pause, and you fished your phone out of your pocket, hoping to silence it quickly. But when you saw the caller ID, your heart sank. It was your mother— the last person you wanted to hear from right now.

You glanced up at Jake, who was still watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, and you hesitated. Should you answer it? Your mother always had a knack for timing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face whatever she might say. But your gut told you to answer before an even bigger storm might brew. Taking a deep breath, you swiped to answer, turning slightly away from Jake to create some privacy.

“Hello?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your hand gripping the phone a little too tight.

There was a brief pause on the other end, then your mother’s familiar voice broke through, laced with tension. “Come home this instant,” she said, her voice tight, barely masking a simmering anger.

You felt Jake’s eyes still on you, his concern deepening as you tried to keep calm. Your heart started to race.

“Mom, can it wait? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“No, it can’t,” she cut you off sharply, her voice dropping to a low that was too calm for the norm that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

“I found the pregnancy test box, Y/N. You come home right now.”

The line went dead. The call had ended— but you felt like your heart had stopped, too.

Everything around you faded, and the weight of her words hit like a punch in the gut. It felt as though the skies were collapsing, the floor beneath you quaking, and a massive tsunami was about to engulf you, drag you under until you were drowning in its depths. Your mind screamed, but it was muffled, like you were submerged underwater, gasping for air. The panic consumed you, threatening to pull you under until Jake’s hands grabbed you, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N?” His voice pierced through the chaos, pulling you back to your feet. He held you tightly, eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on?"

The concern etched into his face only made it harder to breathe, and you realized that everything— the secret, your mother's words, and now his worry— was closing in around you.

“I-I have to g-go,” you stammered, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them. Jake’s confused expression only mirrored the chaos inside you, his brow furrowing in concern as he watched you struggle. The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to you, slipping from your lips without your permission.

“I-I’m sorry, Jake, I—” you said quickly, your words rushing together as the urge to flee surged inside you. “My mom— she needs me. I-I have to go. I-I’ll explain later, I promise, I swear I will, but I just can’t do it right now."

There was a heavy silence between you, thick and suffocating. In your panic, it felt like an invisible chasm had opened between the two of you, a space you couldn’t cross. Jake just stared at you, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand the storm raging inside. You could see it clearly: he wanted to reach out, to help, to ask what was wrong.

But he knew. He knew that pushing you right now would only make it worse. If he asked you what was wrong, it would shut you down completely, triggering an even deeper spiral of panic. It would be like setting off a chain reaction, a cascade that neither of you could control. So, in that brief, agonizing moment, Jake made the choice— the most rational one he could. He stepped back emotionally, even if he wanted to do the opposite, because he trusted you enough to do it.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice steady and calm, though you could see the tension in the way he closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if grounding himself. When he opened them again, they were full of quiet understanding. "Okay, alright," he repeated, nodding slowly.

“Do you need me to drive you there?"

You shook your head, trying to steady your shaky breath. “It’s okay,” you murmured, “Lena can drive me there.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening slightly, though the uncertainty still lingered. In that moment, you realized you’d let something slip— Lena knew something he didn’t. You could see it register in his eyes, that small detail, and though he didn’t ask, it seemed to give him a bit of solace.

“Okay, then I’ll see you later?” Jake’s voice was gentle, no malice, no pressure— just pure reassurance. You nodded quickly, already turning to find Lena, but something pulled you back. Before you knew it, you were taking a few steps back to him.

Without warning, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. It was sudden, impulsive, but necessary. Jake responded immediately, his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips, pulling you closer as if you were meant to fit together like this. The familiar spark ignited in your stomach— the same fireworks that always went off when you kissed him like this. But you knew this wasn’t the time to get lost in it, not when the weight of everything was still hanging between you. As much as you craved the comfort of this moment, you couldn’t let it deceive you into thinking everything was okay, not yet.

You broke the kiss, your heart heavy. Without looking back at Jake, afraid of the emotion in his eyes that might unravel you, you turned away and walked toward the uncertainty awaiting you.

You told Lena to wait in the car as you made your way toward the front door of your childhood home.

The house had aged intricately over the years, like an old photograph fading with time. The paint had faded, the pipes were rusted, and there were dents and scratches on the concrete frame despite the darkness of the night. You could almost see your younger self playing in the soil of the front yard, learning to ride your bicycle along the pavement, and spending whole days looking out the front door window, watching your neighbors across the street— the mother and daughter holding hands, heading off to the movies or the park.

You couldn’t remember the last time you held your mother’s hand.

The living room was eerily calm, the chill in the air contrasting with the faint glow from the dining room where the kitchen was. Under the chandelier's soft light, your mother sat at the end of the table, a mug of tea beside three pregnancy test boxes she’d found in the bathroom trash. The sight made your chest tighten. You didn’t dare step fully into the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. Crossing your arms, you tried to keep your trembling fingers at bay, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on you.

“What was the result?” She asked, her voice aloof and measured. Your mother didn’t look up at you at first, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her gaze fixed on the table.

“Mom, I can explain—”

“What was the result, Y/N?” She looked up at you, and the sight took you aback. She looked exactly the same as she did when you were younger— emotionless and disappointed. Every day brought the same look, and to be truthful, you were getting sick of it.

You let out a deep exhale, the ticking of the clock on the wall booming in the silence like a bomb.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was nothing— just the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You knew she already knew the answer to the question, but saying it out loud, was what made her explode.

“Why would you do this? Why would you ruin our lives?” Her voice broke through the stillness, sharp and furious. You closed your eyes when she finally screamed at you, when she finally snapped. A part of you almost welcomed the outburst— it was better than the cold, emotionless calm. At least now she was showing something, even if it was anger you never wanted to face.

“I gave you everything— an education, food, clothes, a home. What more could you possibly need?” she spat, listing out each thing like a burden she’d carried for years, each word cutting deeper than the last like you were some kind of chore that needs to be completed.

"Why did you let this happen to yourself?"

"Mom, please, it was an accident, okay? Do you really think I wanted to get pregnant right now?" Your voice grew louder, more adamant, as frustration surged through you. The insinuation that you had done this on purpose felt like a slap to the face, and you couldn't hold back the intensity any longer.

"Does he know, hmm?" Her voice dripped with mockery, almost ending in a cruel laugh as she rolled her eyes dramatically, like she already had it all figured out. "Do the guy or guys you’ve been fucking, know about this?" She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze piercing through you like she was daring you to respond.

Anger started to bubble up inside you.

You had constantly reminded her that you had a boyfriend, afraid of how she might initially react, but slowly easing her into the idea of Jake since you started dating. But she always seemed uninterested. Every time you suggested a small lunch or dinner to get to know him, she was "too busy" or had some excuse. It reached a point where mentioning his name would earn you that same blank expression— like she had no idea who he was. You had to remind her again and again, as if his mere existence wasn’t even worth remembering in her life.

"No, I haven’t told Jake— my boyfriend, about the pregnancy yet," You explained, sucking your teeth as you tried to keep your voice calm and civil despite your current temper.

"But I was going to, until you decided to call me."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?" she shot back, her voice rising with incredulity as she stood up from the chair, her frustration spilling over. "My fault that you didn’t tell your boyfriend? You think he didn’t have a hand in this? That he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he got you into bed?"

"Mom, that's disgusting! Why would you even say that?" You yelled, feeling heat rise to your head at her accusation against Jake, as if he had lured you. This was it— her strategy every time you argued, twisting the conversation to make you feel guilty, manipulating your words against you to gaslight you further.

"Jake would never—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted, holding up her hand to silence you. You hated that you instinctively obeyed, that your body seemed to give her the authority.

"You're having an abortion," she declared, as if her decision were final. "You're going to transfer to a community college close to home, and you're going to leave the dorm. No more of your friends' influence."

You shake your head with defiant, standing your ground.

“You can't control my life anymore, Mom," Your face and body felt defeated, not because you were giving in, but because you were so emotionally exhausted that you could barely summon the energy to fight back.

"And I'm not having an abortion because that's not for you to fucking decide."

Your mother scoffed, marching toward you with her eyes wide, filled with disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom what you had just said.

“Is this some kind of revenge against me?” she demanded, her voice rising with each syllable. “I knew you weren’t happy with me, but I never expected you to pull a stunt like this! Wake up, Y/N! Be fucking mature for once! This is reality— own up to your mistake!” She punctuated her words with a sharp gesture, her finger jabbing the air between you right up to your face.

She stared directly into your eyes, her jaw clenched in anger, and you fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“You're just like your fucking father,” she whispered, the insult leaving a bitter burn in her mouth.

You watched as her face began to process the weight of her words, finally opening the Pandora's box of emotions. Years of pent-up frustration, anger, and hatred had found their origin, and you could finally understand why she acted the way she did. The way her expression twisted whenever one of her friends mentioned how much you resembled your father, the absence of any pictures or traces of him in the house—it all made sense now. You weren’t even sure if he had ever paid child support or if he simply allowed your mother to have sole custody when you were born.

But none of it mattered anymore; at this point, you just didn’t care to know.

"That's it, isn't it? That's the reason my life ended up like this." You pressed, your voice thick with repugnance, like a time capsule unsealed, exposing the buried resentment lodged deep in your heart. A sneer nearly crossed your lips as you watched your mother’s whole body and face seemed to recoil.

"And you have the audacity to pin me as some revenge-driven monster? Well, take a good look in the mirror, Mom." You spat the last words venomously, your eyes narrowing and fists clenching at your sides as she flinched.

"Well now you don't have to worry anymore, because I don't ever want to see you again." You said, stepping back without hesitation as your hand tightening around the doorframe.

There were so many things you wanted to tell her, so many broken and damaged pieces she left behind on the path for you to rebuild. But now, you didn’t think it was worth it anymore. It was time to let go of those pieces, to let them shatter on the ground, and finally forge something of your own.

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale as the words slowly sank in. For some reason, from this new angle in the light, the wrinkles on her face seemed deeper, the strands of white in her hair more prominent— visible signs of how much time had passed, how long you had suffered beneath her, though you hadn’t truly noticed until now.

You caught a glimpse of a doodle near the kitchen entrance as you turned away, the charcoal lines of a pencil embedded in the wallpaper. You remembered it clearly— marking your own height as a child because there was no one around to help you. That sense of independence, forged so young, was the reason you were so driven to break free, to shatter the chains the moment you were able.

"I hope you have a happy life mom."

Your final, genuine wish echoed through the lonely kitchen as you walked away from your mother for the last time, swearing never to look back again.

You looked up from your phone when you heard soft knocks on your bedroom door. You were lying comfortably on your bed, but you sat up to see who was coming in. You knew Lena and Ningning mentioning they were going out to buy groceries later, which left only one other person who knew where the emergency key was kept hidden at the entrance.

"Knock, knock," Jake's voice called out playfully as he popped his head through the slightly open door. "I brought you cookies." You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight as he tiptoed in with a puppy-like grin, carefully closing the door behind him. In his hand, he held a brown bag with the logo of your favorite bakery from across the street, sitting at the edge of your mattress.

"You didn’t have to." You cooed, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

He shrugged as you scooted over, making room for him to settle beside you. "I know, but I wanted to. Besides, cookies always make you feel better."

The smell of warm cinnamon and sweet chocolate invaded your senses, and though you would have devoured the cookies like any other day, the lingering effects of your morning sickness made everything taste and smell a little off. So, you hesitated, placing the bag aside for now.

You and Jake leaned back against the headboard of your bed, your shoulders pressed together in the small space. Without thinking, you rested your head on his board shoulder, seeking comfort in his presence. Jake shifted, adjusting his posture to let you settle in more comfortably, letting out a satisfied smile when he felt you snuggled closer before placing his head on top of yours.

"Hey, Jake," You said softly, using the tips of your toes to poke his shin playfully. He hummed in response, turning his head slightly to acknowledge you.

"Have you ever thought about the future?"

He gently rested one of his feet on top of yours, playfully pinning it down, as you try to wiggle out from under the weight but failing. "Yeah, Sometimes when I can't sleep." he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "My mind just kinda zones out, and then it’s like an endless loop of ‘what ifs’ and all that stuff."

You hummed in response as if you could relate to his situation all the time, your voice soft as you asked, "Do you sometimes think about our future together?" Your gaze drifted down to where your playful ministrations had left your limbs tangled together in the sheets, pillows thrown off somewhere on the floor.

"Yes," he admitted faster than you expected, his voice quiet but sure, as his hair lightly tickled your ear. He let out a small laugh at the end, "Maybe just a little too much."

You moved away, standing up straight as the muscles in your neck throbbed from the prolonged awkward position. But mostly, it was to gauge Jake's expression after your random questions that he seemed so willing to answer.

Your silence gave Jake a chance to really observe you. The dark circles under your tired eyes were more pronounced, your eyes slightly red, and your hair tied in a cute, messy bun. He had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a stray strand behind your ear, instead opting to give you some space and time to think.

"I've been sick for a few days now, throwing up a lot in the mornings and don't really have the appetite to eat anything," You explained, hugging a pillow tightly to your chest. Jake moved closer to listened to you intently. "At first, I thought it might be the stupid gas station sushi we ate, but then I realized... I didn’t get my period last month. So, I took some tests just to be sure..."

Jake furrowed his brows, confusion flickering across his face. "Y/N, what do you mean…" His voice trailed off, his mind racing to put the pieces of information you told him into perspective, like fragments of a puzzle slowly finding their place in a bigger picture. Then, something clicked. Before he could fully process it, the words slipped out.

"You're pregnant."

The disbelief was evident in his voice as he stared at you eyes as wide as saucers. You nodded, confirming what he could barely believe.

"I don’t understand…" He began, rubbing his temples in deep contemplation. "I just don’t understand how this happened. We always used protection, right?" He looked back at you, then his gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to your abdomen. "Then… how did we…?"

"I don't know." You admitted, looking as lost as he did. "The last time we did it was at the bathroom at Jay's party. Did the condoms you used yours?" You asked, as Jake prone over your questions.

"Yeah, I usually keep one in my wallet or pocket, but the second..." His face suddenly fell, panic setting in as realization dawn on him, like getting hit with ice cold water over the head. He blinked rapidly, his voice wavering. "Someone was handing some out at the start of the party, and I took one without thinking. You don’t think they would have—"

"Tampered with it?" You finished, disbelief sharp in your voice. "Fuck, Jake, I think whoever gave it to you did."

At the time, he hadn’t even considered, hadn’t paid attention to the possibility that someone could do something so messed up. Now, the realization hit him hard. He ran a hand through his hair, his face pale, looking almost sick, like he might throw up at any moment.

"I can’t believe this. I didn’t even think to even fucking check. I just… trusted it." His shoulders slumped, letting out a grunted sigh of guilt. You caught the shimmer in his eyes, his anger and confusion crashing together like deadly waves.

"All of this is my fault," He murmured, his voice breaking, fully grasping the predicament he'd put you in. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's all my fucking fault."

You reached out immediately, cradling his face gently, your thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks in comfort. Instinctively, he placed his hands over yours desperately, grounding himself in your touch.

"Don’t blame yourself, Jake," You said softly, your gaze steady on his. "If there’s anyone to blame, it’s those people who did this, okay? What they did was fucked up."

He took a deep breath, trying to absorb your words, but a new concern flickered in his eyes. "Does your mom know?"

Jake wasn’t foreign to the details of your childhood, though he wouldn’t say it was easy for you to confide in him about your complicated bond with your mother when you first started dating, so he only knows bits and pieces. You’d described it simply, brushing over the pain, which was probably why he’d even thought to ask about your mother's reaction now.

"She knows," You confessed tensely. "Remember when she called me last time at the party? She found the box for my pregnancy test." The memories flowed back in slow motion, and Jake took your hand, intertwining it with his larger one to give you a reassuring squeeze of encouragement.

"She told me to get an abortion, to leave everything I have build here and come back home," You swallowed hard, but the tears didn’t stop flowing out your eyes. "But I told her she can't control my life anymore, that I’m keeping the baby and before I knew it, she was out of my life for good this time."

Jake pulled you gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and guiding your head to rest against his chest. One hand caressed your back while the other held the back of your head, and you surrendered to the release, letting the tears flow freely into his embrace. He murmured soft reassurances, pressing his lips affectionately to the crown of your head. Rocking you gently, he created a safe space for you to let it all out. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, finding comfort in his warmth like never before.

"I’ll support whatever you choose, Y/N. It should always be your choice what you do with your body, and I’m so proud of you for standing up to your mother," he reassured you softly. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but in that moment, you felt yourself falling even more deeply in love with him as you shared one heartbeat.

He took a steadying breath, whispering to you saccharinely. "If you choose to keep the baby, our baby, then I’ll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe. Whatever it takes, I’m here."

You knew it would be a struggle for both of you— neither of you had the bandwidth to fully handle what lay on the other side of this journey. But seeing him here, trying his best to pull through for both of you, gave you the smallest glimmer of hope. And you knew you’d always do the same for him. This moment may have been small, but it was enough to make you believe, even if just for a second, that you’d both get through it.

Time seems to flow like a river, and everything in your life has gradually started to find its place, evolving naturally around your sudden change in plans for the future.

The first people you and Jake told about the pregnancy were his parents. It felt inevitable— both of you always wanted them to be a meaningful part of your child’s life from the very beginning. And knowing Jake, you doubted he’d be able to keep it a secret for long; he was too close with his family, and sooner or later, he was bound to let it slip. Telling them felt like the right first step.

"Do you think your parents are gonna take the news alright?" You ask him from the passenger seat as Jake settles into the driver’s.

His parents were always different from your own— present in his life, involved in every moment, big or small. You had spent countless Christmases and Thanksgivings with them over the years, and they welcomed and treated you like their own, to the point where Jake and his older brother would sometimes joke about how much their parents liked you better than them, often telling you how much they always wanted a daughter of their own to adore.

Since then, you had come to understand exactly where Jake got his warmth and kindness. His parents were the kind of people who loved wholeheartedly. Yet despite this, you couldn’t shake the fear and worries that they might see your pregnancy as too soon, that they might wonder if you were taking their youngest son’s future from him before it had even fully begun.

"They'll be...understanding, that's for sure," Jake replied, though you caught a hint of skepticism in his own words.

"But I don't want you to worry too much. Besides, I don't think my parents would be too opposed to becoming grandparents either if it’s you." He reached out to hold your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it lovingly.

That's how you both found yourselves driving back to his hometown one weekend, sitting together on the couch in his family’s living room across from each other as you shared the news. You had braced for their reaction as expected— a mix of happiness, confusion, and, above all, a deep-seated worry for the two of you and the baby.

Their faces showed their desire to be supportive, though you couldn’t fault them for the anxiety that crept into their expressions. Despite their concern, they were ready to help as much as possible, which you appreciated deeply. But you and Jake had already agreed: you’d take full responsibility, not wanting to lean too heavily on their kindness.

After that, you and Jake decided to share the news with your close-knit friends, knowing that having the right support system could make all the difference. Besides, it felt uncomfortable keeping something so important from the people you trusted— those who had been by your side for so long.

There was an initial look of shock on their faces— Ningning had her hands covering her mouth, Sunghoon's signature eyebrow was raised so high it practically touched his hairline, and Jay’s jaw seemed to drop to the floor. The only one who didn’t blink twice was Lena, who sat on the couch with a smug smile, amused by the other's reaction to your pregnancy.

“Surprise...?” You squeaked, though they remained frozen in their spots.

It seemed almost unreal that this was happening. Sure, they knew Jake was the most likely among them to be married or even become a father first, but you were the more liable one compared to Jake’s clumsy nature, which overall balance out the relationship. The two of you were also the only ones in a committed relationship amongst your friends.

Anyone could guess that you and Jake were eventually going to end up like together together, but they hadn’t expected it to happen so abruptly.

“How far along are you?” Ningning was the first to speak, immediately pulling you into an enthusiastic hug.

“Almost 2 months,” You replied, gently cradling your lower abdomen to show her. You glanced at Jake, who was smiling beside you. “We’ve got our first gynecology appointment next week to get an ultrasound.”

You didn’t miss the way her eyes filled with tears and her lips pouted as she stared lovingly at you and Jake together. Seeing her so excited and sentimental made you feel almost emotional yourself. She pulled you into another tight hug, and you gladly returned it.

“Dude, you’re gonna be a fucking baby daddy,” Jay said, approaching Jake with his usual fervor and pulling him into a rough hug, in typical Jay fashion.

After congratulating you, Sunghoon smacked Jay on the chest with a serious scowl. “Oh my god, Jay, don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Lena joined the group, draping an arm over your and Jake’s shoulders with a proud smile. “So now that everyone knows you’re pregnant, let’s just agree that I’m going to be the baby’s best godparent.”

You and Jake laughed at the chorus of denial coming from the others, obviously objecting to who truly had the worth to hold that title. The situation was almost comedic, and you could always count on your friends to lighten the mood by arguing among themselves about something so minuscule regarding the baby. At the sight of that, you found a comforting relief in your chest just watching them, knowing that your baby was going to have so many reliable adults (sorta) to look after and pamper them until the end of the world.

Next week arrived, and the gynecology appointment came swiftly. You and Jake patiently waiting at the receptionist waiting room for your name to be called. There was a unspoken nervousness that course through the both of you, but you held each other's hand in silent encouragement as the staff gave you some documents to signed over in the mean time.

“—and who is the person accompanying you, Ms?” the nurse asked without thinking over the counter, causing you to pause and glance at Jake awkwardly.

You weren't sure what to tell her. It made sense to say that Jake was your boyfriend; surely she would understand, right? But maybe the self-consciousness was creeping in, making you fearful of being judged as incompetent or insecure in your situation for choosing to have a baby despite not having the security of marriage. You had seen the debates about it all on the internet, and it was only human to feel a bit self-conscious about people's views.

Jake shot you one of his warm smiles when he noticed your hesitation— the kind that always made you feel safe. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he replied nonchalantly, never breaking eye contact with you.

"I'm the baby's father, ma'am."

Jake’s words gave you the strength you needed throughout the process— from meeting the doctor, to her placing the ultrasound device on your abdomen, to watching the faint outline of your baby on the monitor. Unfortunately, the baby’s heartbeat couldn’t be heard in the early phase of the 1st trimester in your case, which was probably for the best, since you and Jake would have likely ugly cried even harder if you’d heard it together.

Things started to fall into place one by one— Jake began his internship without a hitch, and you continued with your classes as usual. Despite Jake’s concerns, you promised him you wouldn’t push yourself too hard, though it took plenty of reassurance to ease his puppy-like worry. You’d told yourself that if you could make it to an 8am lecture on Greek monologue after partying until 3am on the same day, you could handle at least that much of hardship of pregnancy.

The biggest change was Jake’s decision to rent an apartment now that he was earning a steady income. He thought it was a good idea for you both to have a shared space to take care of the baby, knowing it would be challenging to do so while living separately. You were happy to keep things minimalistic, just grateful for Jake’s sacrifices, though he always assured you he was more than okay with it— jokingly saying that he can now finally have you all to himself to spoil.

And he did. Jake took care of you more than you could care for yourself. He was patient with you during your sudden mood changes, cleaned the place on days when you were physically incapable of doing so, and still managed to satisfy your odd cravings in the middle of the night when he came home from work. Even then, he was willing to massage your legs when the swelling caused you pain to walk.

It almost felt like you were taking him for granted, and there were moments when you wondered if he might become exhausted by the constant stress. You wouldn’t blame him if conversations of regret started to dwell in his mind. Yet every day, without fail, he would lay down beside you on the bed at the end of the day while facing each other. His hand would trail to caress your protruding stomach as he whispered sweet words, as if he were already communicating with your unborn child, thanking you for your efforts of giving him the chance to be a father.

With his help, the feelings of insignificance and uselessness began to fade in the background, and you slowly accepted that pregnancy was not an easy journey. Both of you were holding each other by a thread, sharing the hope of welcoming your child by the end of this dark tunnel.

Almost four months passed by more quickly than you expected. The physical and emotional changes you and Jake faced each day made time feel both swift and excruciatingly slow— if that was even possible. However, the silver lining was that your body was getting used to the growing baby. You were finally able to move around freely instead of feeling stuck between your bed and the sofa. Your appetite had returned to normal, allowing you to eat without much difficulty.

At your recent appointment with the gynecologist, the baby had reached the stage where the gender could be clearly identified. Your friends, eager to make it a lasting memory, insisted on throwing a baby shower and gender reveal party to mark the occasion. Jake and Lena went out to pick up the specially ordered cake from a bakery, while Sunghoon and Ningning teamed up to decorate the living room (despite some playful bickering about where things should go). You and Jay took charge of the food and drinks for the guests— well, mostly Jay, since he insisted you sit down and rest while he handled everything.

Jay nagged you more than usual as he rummaged through your fridge, clearly concerned about how empty it was. In the meantime, he prepped a bunch of healthy snacks for you, making you laugh at his grumbling but underlying affection, almost as if he were the one who was pregnant instead of you.

The party began once everyone arrived, including some of your close friends like classmates Sunoo and Minjeong, along with Riki and Jungwon—juniors Jake had met through his dance club— and, of course, Jake's parents.

Your apartment, once a quiet space for just you and Jake, now felt like a lively festival, filled with so many loved ones. The excitement in the room warmed your heart as you sat at the table with the gender reveal cake in front of you. Everyone of them wore colors representing the gender they believed the baby would be— though some were definitely more adamant about their guesses.

"Hey, love," Jake greeted, leaning down to give your forehead a gentle kiss before taking the seat beside you. "How’s our little corn doing?"

You found it adorable that Jake had taken to giving the baby different nicknames based on their size each week. Ever since he stumbled upon a website showing how big the baby was at each stage, he’d started affectionately referring to them as different fruits and vegetables, each one a silly little surprise for you to look forward to.

"Doing good, though their mom would really appreciate it if they’d stop kicking her uterus so much.” you replied, resting a hand on your bump.

"Ohhh, we’ve got a little football player on the way," Jake said with a goofy grin, clearly eager to teach his child how to kick a ball just like his father had taught him.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his endless excitement. It made your maternal instinct flutter, imagining Jake crouching down to his knees, patiently guiding a mini version of yourselves in the park as you watch them from your seat at the picnic blanket.

You and Jake already knew that no matter what the child was, you’d love them. It didn’t matter to either of you, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s why you opted to wear white for the gender reveal, without any expectations.

"Come on, guys," Sunghoon called, gesturing for you both to focus on the party. His digital camera was already set up to record in the center of the room. "Cut the cake!"

Everyone was on the edge of their seats watching as you and Jake held the knife handle together, slowly slicing through the cream-covered cake. With a shared giggle, you let the slice fall onto the plate, finally revealing the baby pink sponge cake inside. The room erupted in cheers, and party poppers went off with a loud bang, showering everyone in sparkling confetti that rained down in celebration.

You saw Jake’s mother crying tears of joy as Jake's father hugged her with a beaming smile. Your friends couldn't stop clapping and cheering, thrilled about the little princess they’d soon welcome to adore. The energy in the room was electric as Jake pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering “our baby girl” over and over into your ear. You clung to him, echoing his words between choked sobs as you cried together on his shoulder.

You were so happy and so grateful for this moment, yet you couldn't shake the petrifying feeling in your heart. It was a strange inkling that created a small hollow space within you, making it difficult to focus throughout the party, despite your efforts to maintain a smiling facade and convince yourself that everything was alright. You might be able to trick yourself and everyone else, but you knew you could never fool your boyfriend.

"Something's on your mind, isn't it?" Jake asked gently as you both got ready for bed after the party. You looked into his eyes after sitting on the edge of the bed and changing into your nightgown, sighing in defeat as you realized you couldn't say no to him.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" You asked genuinely, a hint of perturbation coloring the cadence of your words.

Jake moved to sit beside you, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face as he leaned in closer, his warmth radiating against you. You couldn’t get enough of the way he looked at you, as if you held his entire universe in your hands. He was intimately familiar with the map of your features, just as he understood your proclivity to overthink, knowing precisely the right words to soothe you. Others might see you as a brooder, but he understood your concern as a reflection of how deeply you cared— about him, about the baby.

"Anything that involves you will always be right," He said. It was a soft whisper in the twilight moonlight, where everything felt quiet and serene, drawing your attention to his expression.

You couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, accentuating the unique quirk of his pouty lips that you adored kissing. It reminded you of the first time you met, when he put in so much effort to impress you with his playful antics and awkward yet charming jokes. You both ended up laughing throughout the entire date, a feeling that blossomed into something deeper.

The way he kissed you now brought back the same feeling you’d had back then, making you feel like you might explode. He traced your jawline gently before grabbing it hastily, angling your lips up to meet his whilst your free hand itched to grab his shoulders. You almost bumped noses as Jake leaned in to deepen the kiss, making it hard to breathe with the intensity of it all.

“She'll love you.” You managed to gasp with the opportunity you had, though he didn’t let you go for long. Smiling against your lips as he realized you meant your baby girl, he slipped a hand down to cup your bump, his smile widening as he felt a tiny kick against his palm.

"She’ll love us," Jake murmured, pulling back just an inch, his gaze flickering to your lips with lust before capturing them again, this time with a ravishness that left you winded. His tongue ventured into your mouth with a hunger like it was the first time, exploring like it was uncharted territory, yet his lips moved against yours with a softness that melted you. Unable to resist, you reached up and tugged gently at his hair, opening your mouth wider to show him you wanted this as much as he did.

"Move up here for me, love." His hands brushed gently along your sides, encircling your waist as he guided you toward the middle of the bed, helping you settle against the headboard in a comfortable position.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" Jake asked with a hint of worry, his palms stroking your inner thighs as your nightgown ride up slightly to expose your skin while you shifted along the mattress.

"I'm okay, Jake," You reassured him, brushing his bangs aside to get a clearer look at him. His slow, mallow pace made you feel a little impatient, a spark of intense desire starting to burn. "I want you to keep going," You begged, voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s mouth slid against yours at your command, sending a warm thrill through you as he coaxed your bottom lip, nibbling on it like something sweet. Jake took this moment to peel your nightgown from your body over your head, making sure you didn’t have to lift a finger as he helped you undress, leaving you in just your panties for him to stop and gaze at.

It took every fiber of your willpower not to shy away and hide from Jake. You were hyper-aware of the physical changes your body had undergone, noticing them unconsciously every morning in the shower. Beyond the growing weight of your belly, you’d observed your areolas darkening, your breasts and curves becoming fuller, and the stretch marks becoming more prominent.

You constantly reminded yourself that this was normal, that it was natural for your body to look and feel this way because pregnancy is complicated. Dwelling on these changes would only hurt you internally, especially when you were certain Jake didn’t think twice about any of them. You knew he loved you unconditionally, for who you were, not just your body.

It was evident in the way Jake’s hooded eyes trailed over your naked skin, studying with fascination every inch with a look of awe. There was something both primal and possessive in his gaze as he swallowed with a heavy breath, instinctively licking his lips. It was as if, just by being there, you were ripping his insanity piece by piece. Heat rose to the tips of your ears, your heart racing as his intense admiration pulled you deeper into the moment, slotting himself between your legs.

"You're beautiful," His hands groped the flesh of your thighs before roaming upward past your stomach to squeeze your breasts. The brush of your hardened nipples against his palm rendered you speechless, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"I look like a planet," You softly joked, finding it rather hard to believe.

Jake looked up at you with a smirk, dipping his head to lick a stripe along the valley of your breast. “Then, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—"

You nearly knocked your head against the headboard when Jake took one of your perked nipples between his swollen lips, letting out a breathless whine as he pulled on the pebble with his teeth.

“—I’ve never wanted to fuck a planet so badly in my life after seeing you.” His groan rumbled against your chest.

You would have point out everything remotely wrong with his statement if only he wasn’t working wonders on your breast. His mouth move to suckle on the hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it messily while his other hand kneaded the other breast, fingers twisting and flicking at the sensitive nub. He alternated between ministrations, giving each peak the same well-deserved attention that makes your back arch at the pleasure.

Your hands searched for something to hold on, slipping under his shirt to trace the defined contours of his back muscles. Just the sensation of your nails clawing desperately over his skin made him shiver.

Jake knew how tenderly aching every part of your body was due to the pregnancy. You were so responsive, so sensitive— completely under the mercy of his touch, letting out loud moans of his name that turned him on. He was obsessed with the way you threw your head back, your skin shuddering with goosebumps, and the way your hips twitched when he rubbed two fingers over your clothed sex, feeling just how wet you were as it soaked through sticking to his fingers.

“Can you feel how wet you are, baby? Your pretty little cunt is drooling for me.” Jake taunted, feeling the vibrations of your whimpers as he moved away from your breasts, placing final, gentle kisses on each puckering nipple to ease their soreness.

"Yes," you shuddered, feeling him press down sharply against your core, making your legs tremble. “Please do something, J-Jake, I’m going crazy."

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you." Jake cooed, pulling his shirt over his head to expose his lean physique.

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants before he sank on his stomach between your legs. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties and peeled the damp fabric from your pussy eagerly, tugging it until it was completely off your legs.

You blushed, noticing the way his face hovered at eye level so close to your bare pussy. His pupils were blown out, and you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your aching core.

"So swollen and pretty," He purred, watching your moist folds glistening with arousal as you clenched over nothing at his words. His thumb pressed gently on your skin, spreading the delicate flesh to reveal your puffy clit while his other hand held you firmly under your thigh.

A stream of curses spilled from your lips as Jake flattened his tongue against your wet folds, lapping at your slit with fervor to work you open. His plump lips were soft, yet his tongue had a roughness that drove you wild, the contrasting sensations leaving you breathless as he devoured you.

Jake let out low groans of pleasure, spurred on by your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails grazing his scalp as you urged him closer to your bucking hips. He felt your thighs pressing in on either side of his face, only driving him to inhale deeply as the tips of his nose nudge against your clit with every lick and suckle, savoring your scent and juices as it grew sweeter.

“You taste so good, baby, could munch on you forever," He mumbled, moving his skillful tongue to roll over your throbbing clit, flicking the bundle of nerves playfully as he relished in the way you were grinding against his mouth.

The lewd sounds you made were a hymn that only fueled Jake’s desire, making him groan as he hump his clothed erection against the mattress, his tip twitching with precum because you tasted too good to be true. Jake was a devotee when it came to you. Your body was a holy temple, and your beautiful cunt was a deity he was willing to kneel before in worship, especially if heaven tasted like it did between your legs.

"J-Jakey, oh my God," You sobbed out, squeezing you eyes shut. "Feels so, so good—Hmnh—"

You nearly choked on your own words when Jake probed his middle finger to your entrance, his saliva mixed with your slick arousal allowed him to insert his finger smoothly into your velvet walls. You instinctively clenched around his digit at the intrusion, savoring the way he curled it just right, grazing that sensitive spot that made your abdomen pulse erratically.

He didn’t move the finger, as if slipping it in was simply to give your tightening walls something to clutch around, to loosen you and make you feel occupied. You couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, panting heavily as the knot in your stomach tightened. If just one finger was making you feel this intense, you couldn’t imagine the burning sensation his thick cock would bring instead.

Jake sensed the shift in your demeanor when he glanced up, watching you fondled your tender breast with one hand, while the other cradled the underside of your protruding belly as your body writhed. You were close to release, and this spurred him on, his mouth lapping over your delicate pearl with a rapid, more intense rhythm than before, and soon the bedsheets were damp with your creamy juices running down his chin.

"I'm gonna cum, oh God, Jake! I'm gonna—"

Your mouth opened wide, caught up in your orgasm, unable to utter a single sound as your face contorted, nearly blacking out as waves of release crashed over you. Jake’s tongue wriggled against your engorged clit with precision, feeling your walls clenched his finger in a vice-like grip, each movement making the pleasure of your climax worth while.

"Such an obedient pussy.” He mouth out along the expanses of your spent slit, sliding between your cheeks and along the groves of your folds until he languidly kissed your clit. “You came on my tongue so fucking good, baby."

It took a moment for you to recover. It had been months since you’d had any sort of copulation like this, and the expenditure of your release left you shivering under the cold sweat on your skin, the tremors gradually subsiding.

Still, you mustered enough energy to prop yourself on your elbow, watching as Jake sat up and plunge his wet middle finger into his mouth, savoring every drop of your excess essence like liquid gold. Disheveled and his cheeks flushed pink, licking his cum-stained cupid's bow.

Jake leaned forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You’re doing so well for me," He whispered, his hands rubbing your stomach affectionately, as if to check on the baby's state. "Are you okay? Want to keep going?"

You nodded blankly, your finger trailing down to pull on the drawstrings, making him chuckle as he helped tug them loose. Jake hurriedly pulled down his sweatpants with your aid, tossing them onto the bedroom floor. His length spring stiffly against his abs, the tip a deep shade that matched your flushed cheeks as you realized just how eager you’d looked reaching for his pants.

"Sorry." You apologized. "Just...need you inside me right now."

"You're so cute when your cock hungry," Jake shakes his head, giving you those bedroom eyes before pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips. "Lie down for me, love, and let me make that aching pussy feel good."

Jake helps you settle your head on the pillow, guiding you to lie down on your side, as lying on your back was no longer an option. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he wraps his body snugly against your back, pulling you close to his chest. You wish you could face him, craving the intimacy of it while he fucks you, but with your belly in the way, spooning from behind was the best position.

One of his hands went beneath you, supporting the underside of your stomach to hold you in place. You could hear him spit on his palm, his other hand pumping and lubricating his cock in preparation, making your toes curl in anticipation. His hot breath fanned against your nape, his lips sliding across your skin with feather-like kisses.

“You stay just like that.” Jake remarked, and you whimper out loud when you felt his cockhead circling your entrance, probing at the hole experimentally with the slightest pressure. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

He began easing himself into your tightness slowly, hearing you wince as his length stretched against the resistance of your wall.

"Relax for me, baby. Let me in— yeah, just like that. Good girl."

His thumb circled soothingly on your hip encouragingly as you gradually dilated, allowing his tip to press on the deepest part of your swelling walls. Biting your lower lip, you curled inward, cheeks smushed against the soft pillow, on the verge of exploding as Jake buried himself fully, stilling to give you time to adjust to his size.

It was impossible to believe you'd had his cock so many times before, familiar with just how large and hard he could occupied inside you. But now, with your body rearranged to accommodate a living being in your womb, you felt as though you were bursting at the seams, struggling to take all of him.

It didn’t help that this was the first time you felt each other so raw, without any latex barrier to dull the heat as he seeped into your sensitive walls, every vein pressing against your plush insides. Jake was grunting heavily too, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt you pulsing tightly around his cock, like a snug sleeve almost too small to take him, fully realizing just how swollen you were due to the baby.

"Y/N," He soothes breathlessly close to your ear. "Am I hurting you?"

"N-no," You managed to reply meekly, albeit the initial painful sensation was starting to fade but soon turns pleasurable. You could feel your walls adapting to Jake's cock, and a pleasant pressure began to build rapidly. You found yourself craving friction, bucking your hips back slightly to signal him. "You can move, Jake."

The pace of his thrusts was steady at first. He was testing the waters on how far he could take while gauging your reaction. He was attentive to your body language, and when your moans started to increase in volume and your ass bounced back to meet his thrusts halfway, Jake gripped your hips more aggressively. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was almost out before pounding back until his pelvis was flushed against the curve of your spine. He did it over and over again, making you go insane, feeling each other’s sweat sticking your back to his front.

"T-Too deep, Jake. Fuck, it's too fucking deep," You slurred, your voice heavy as if lost in the clouds, the lewd sound of skin slapping echoing in the room as he hit your sweet spot mercilessly from behind.

"Yeah, baby? You like how I fuck your tight pussy?" Jake laughed lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear.

He wished he could see your expression as he grabbed your leg and lifted it, hooking it over his thigh. The angle allowed him to kiss that spot so perfectly engraved in you that the pleasure was almost blinding, making it feel as though he was splitting you apart.

"Feel that? Can you feel how deep I am?"

You were too speechless to answer, so hyperfocus on reaching your high when you felt your baby’s kicking against your belly. You couldn’t help but place a hand over Jake’s, his hand that never left its spot to support the weight of your lower stomach. You didn’t know what came over you to let those incoming words slip. Maybe deep down, you knew how much Jake's paternal instinct would enjoy hearing them.

"G-Gonna make you a dad, Jake." You gasped out when his hold on your leg tightens, your brazen words made his body tense up. "Fuck, gonna make you the father of our babies."

Like a flip of a coin, you were haunted with the beat of the bed squeaking in tandem with Jake's thrust. It was ruthless, it was feral and with each punch of his tip against that sweet spot ripples unbearable pleasure, leaving you a mess of screams.

"That’s right, love. You’re gonna take all my seed like your body was meant to, right? Let me fill your womb until you're nice and full." Jake's voice deepened, a savagery in his demeanor to absolutely batter and bruise your birth canal that you'd have no choice but to accept his cock and his sperm.

You let out a pathetic yes, captive by the way Jake was so turned on by the prospect of him putting another baby in you that your body was slowly surrendering yourself to his gospels. Jake could feel his self control loosening, one hand reaching to grasp your bouncing tits from behind to roughly pinch a tender peak.

"Can’t wait to see you nurse our babies like a good mama.” He was biting the shell of your ear as you squirmed, feeling his thumb’s nail running roughly over your nipple. “Letting them latch on your pretty little nipples until you're leaking with milk.”

His words affected you in ways that felt almost ludicrous, your tender buds and heavy bosoms tingling with anticipation at the mere thought of that sucking motion once your baby is born. Familiar white spots dotted your vision as your release drew closer, the knot in your core tightening so deeply that there wasn’t a semblance of control left in your mind.

Jake was slipping under your touch as well, feeling your gaping hole pulling him in like a sealed vacuum. He couldn’t help but imagine his cock imprinted on the pink linings of your cunt, teetering at the brink of delirium but focused solely on seeing you come undone before giving in to his own desire.

"Gonna make you my wife, baby." Jake's assaults slows down but he used that as a leverage to rail you deep and precise, his movements were deliberate that he knew just the right amount of power to beckon your orgasm forward. "You’ll let me use your pussy forever, until all you can do is get pregnant and have my kids, yeah?"

Incoherent screams of agreement spilled from your lips, and you felt an atomic-like stir scattering from head to toe as your threshold was crossed. Jake said words that encouraged your release— I love you, baby, want you to cum for me. Your climax was blinding, yet at the same time, it revealed the answer to the universe: all you could think about was Jake, Jake, Jake and how much you love him back.

The said man anchored your body close as you convulsed uncontrollably, letting your orgasm wash over you, growing limp with overstimulation. Jake continued to thrust his aching cock once, twice more, his swollen tip twitching against the entrance of your cervix before he let out a long, begrudging moan of triumph into your shoulder, ropes of his creamy cum coated your walls, marking you profoundly with his seed.

Jake always daydream about this moment; all those fantasies led to this as he felt his thick load dripping down the crack of your pussy, spilling down to your inner thighs as you couldn't hold any more of him.

There were no words shared between you two for a minute, ragged breathing and the humidity of sex occupied the space. The aftermath of your highs were intoxicating you in the best way possible, leaving no room for arguments that he had fucked you to another dimension. You wished to bask in this atmosphere a little longer, to soak in each other's presence and recover your bearings. But Jake, ever attentive, lifted himself up, no matter how exhausted he was, and rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to your pulse.

One hand reached out to push away the wispy strands of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead as you craned back to look at his smiling face and gooey haze, reaching out to hold his jaw as well.

You snorted tiredly. "You have that creepy smile on you again."

"You said yes," He leaned closer to whisper against your lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lands a quick peck to your lips.

You frowned, tilting your head in confusion. "To what?

"My proposal."

@moonheecore All rights reserved. Do not translate or post my works anywhere without permission.

[aveloka-draws]

Oh I remember seeing Trask and Nathaniel! Those two where what originally drew me to your art. Is there anything else you can say about their story or dynamic?

Aw so happy you like them! Their world is a giant labyrinth-machine, always shifting and they are trying to find a way out or a safer zone since no one's ever heard of anyone making it out of it.

Nathan (left) often looks angry but its just because hes always focused on something else, loves puzzles and riddles so hes obsessed with trying to understand the labyrinth. Very pessimistic, doesnt believe theres an escape but if there were one he wants to know for curiosity sake.

Trask has trouble remembering their life in the labyrinth, Nathan finds them along his path and ends up following him, helping when theres need to fight other ppl or the creatures from the mechanism. Trask is very impulsive and quick to rash decisions, in big part from frustration over having lost their memory.

Nathan is scared of having them around but is more scared of continuing alone. Trask is staying with him because he seems to know where to go so they'll protect him until he's no longer useful.

[keeryhours]

birthday cake - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

It’s Iris’ first birthday, and Rafe may have gone a little overboard.

Warnings:

None, just birthday party fluff, some kissing

Word Count: 2,960

A/N:

I love baby daddy Rafe. Let me know if you want to see more!

—

“Well don’t you look absolutely gorgeous!”

Iris smiled and clapped her hands, giggling at your excited expression. She was dressed in a big poofy pink dress, white Mary Janes on her feet. Her light brown hair had been gathered into two tiny pigtails. She had a party hat you would try to get a picture of her in later, but you knew better than to try to get her to actually wear it.

It was May 26th, exactly one year since the best, most amazing day of your life.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” JJ called as he walked through the living room carrying an armful of gifts. He had been packing the car the entire time you’d been getting Iris ready.

You picked up your daughter and sat her on your hip, grabbing her diaper bag and your purse with your free hand as you followed JJ to the door.

JJ got the last of the party supplies packed in the back of the car while you buckled Iris in her car seat, which turned out to be more difficult than expected with the floofy dress. You briefly wonder if you should have changed her at the country club.

You got it done eventually, and then you and JJ were on the road to Figure 8.

Rafe had insisted you hire a party planner. You argued with him on it at first, because you are perfectly capable of planning a first birthday party yourself, but he wouldn’t drop it, saying he didn’t want you stressing about planning and setting it up yourself. You had rolled your eyes, but he was paying for it, so you figured, what the hell.

It actually wasn’t bad at all. The party planner had involved you every step of the way just like you’d wanted to be. She let you make all the decisions while she made it all come together. It was honestly amazing.

You arrived at the country club just in time to get settled before guests began to arrive. JJ carried the gifts while you carried the baby. You had planned the party for the perfect time, she was freshly up from a nap and would probably stay in a great mood for the whole event.

Your eyes widened as you, JJ, and Iris walked into the event space that had been booked for the party. The theme you had decided on was Berry First Birthday, and it was the most extravagant baby’s birthday party you’d ever seen.

When Rafe had told you he wanted to take care of the party, you didn’t know what to think. He told you you’d still have full creative control because he knew you’d been looking forward to it, but he was going to cover it and he wanted to hire a planner. He let you make every decision, mostly staying out of it, his only instruction being “It has to be the best for my girl.”

There was a big balloon arch made up of red, white, pink, and berry colored balloons, including some actual strawberry balloons, sitting in front of a large pink backdrop with printed strawberries that said Iris’ Berry First Birthday. A vintage looking white high chair sat in front of it, a banner attached to the front that said One with pink and red tassels.

There was a long table filled with food, including some cookies in the shape of strawberries and a large spread of fresh fruit. There was a table that held champagne, which you thought was kind of funny for a one year old’s party. Another table held a giant 3-tiered white cake decorated with strawberries.

He had really gone all out. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything less.

Rafe came walking over the second he noticed you walk through the door, a grin on his face.

“There’s my birthday girl,” he said, reaching his hands out for Iris. She immediately held her arms out, leaning forward towards him.

You handed her over with a laugh, knowing you were no competition when Rafe was around. She was a complete daddy’s girl.

He placed a big kiss on her cheek as he settled her in his arms, and she giggled.

“You look so pretty, baby girl,” he complimented her, smoothing down the puffy skirt of her dress. “I love your dress.”

“Dadadadada,” she babbled in response, a gummy grin on her face. She still only had about 5 teeth. Rafe wore a pink shirt and khaki colored pants, and it was adorable the way he matched with her.

“You really went all out,” you said, taking in the extravagance of the event.

“Yeah, well,” he said, brushing you off and not taking his eyes off the baby, “she only turns 1 once.”

Rafe was always a real baby hog. Once he took her when you arrived, you had a hard time getting her back. You busied yourself arranging the gifts on the gift table and setting out the gift bags you had put together for all the guests.

Guests began to arrive not long after. You and Rafe greeted them together with Iris, the star of the show, in his arms. She absolutely ate up all the attention, giving everyone a big smile and tolerating being passed around to friends and family.

“It’s my bestie!” Sarah squealed as she walked up with Wheezie next to her, holding her hands out for her niece. Rafe reluctantly handed her over, mostly because Iris had already been reaching for Sarah anyway.

Sarah and Wheezie cooed at the baby, fussing over her outfit and hair. Rafe watched, looking impatient to get her back.

“I can’t believe you’re one already,” Sarah said, looking emotional as she hugged Iris to her chest. Iris tolerated the hold for about 2 seconds before she was wiggling free, and then she was reaching for Rafe again. Rafe took her back with a smug grin on his face.

“Me either,” you said, fighting back tears. You had been emotional all day, you definitely didn’t need to be reminded how monumental of a day it was.

You had been satisfied with cell phone pictures, but apparently Rafe had hired a whole photographer. She called you over now, to the backdrop.

There was a whole photo session while the guests helped themselves to the food and refreshments. Photos of you and Iris, Rafe and Iris, you, Rafe, and Iris together. Pictures with Iris, Rafe, Sarah, Wheezie, Ward, and Rose. Some of you and JJ with her. And of course a group photo with the pogues with the birthday girl in the center.

When it was time for cake, you settled Iris into the vintage high chair. JJ brought over her smash cake, which was a smaller version of the big cake - small, round, and white with strawberries painted in icing decorating it. There was a big 1 candle on top.

JJ handed the cake to you, and Rafe pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

The two of you walked over to the high chair, holding the cake in front of Iris close enough to see but far enough away that she couldn’t reach the fire.

The whole party began to sing happy birthday, and it was then that it really hit you.

The past 365 days of your life flashed before your eyes. First smile, first laugh, first tooth, first word, learning to crawl. First night home from the hospital, when Rafe never strayed far from your side, holding newborn Iris every chance he got so you could eat and shower and sleep. The day she was born, when Rafe held your hand the entire time you were in labor, wiping the sweat off your face, feeding you ice chips, and telling you You’re doing amazing, babe. How it had been a complicated labor, and when she was finally out and you heard her cry, you both looked at each other and breathed out a collectively held breath of relief. Seeing your daughter for the first time, just a tiny little thing, brand new to the world and snuggling into your chest for comfort. Rafe holding her for the first time, looking at her with pure adoration, and the way he cried (but made you promise not to tell anyone about that).

Your eyes moved up to look at him, and like he had the exact same thought at the same time, he turned and his gaze met yours as you continued to sing the song. Tears welled up in your eyes and you saw his become glassy, too. You both smiled at each other, a million unspoken emotions conveyed between them.

When the song was over, you and Rafe blew the candle out together, watching Iris’ delighted face. Rafe removed the candle and you placed the little smash cake in front of Iris.

She examined it first, cautious. Rafe grabbed her little hand, dipping it in the icing and bringing it to her lips. She gladly put her fingers in her mouth, they were usually there anyway, but her face lit up with a smile when she tasted the buttercream icing.

“See? Mmm, yummy,” Rafe said, beaming at her.

“Ummy,” Iris repeated, and she dipped her hand into the cake willingly this time, grabbing a big handful and bringing it to her mouth.

Rafe laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands together once. Guests were taking pictures and videos on their phones, the photographer getting plenty of shots. Everyone continued to watch as Iris devoured her smash cake, eating until she couldn’t anymore.

You and Rafe cleaned all the cake off of her when she was finished, which always made her cranky. She screamed as you wiped her off, but you and Rafe only laughed. You were still feeling emotional.

The big cake was served to all the guests by country club staff, and again it occurred to you that you had never in your life seen such a grand event for a one year old.

Presents were opened after everyone ate, you and Rafe on either side of Iris as she ripped into her gifts. She was more interested in the paper and empty bags than the gifts inside them, but at least she was having a blast. You knew she’d be excited about the actual gifts later.

The gift table was already overflowing with the amount of guests at the party, but you swore that Rafe himself had brought half the table. It seemed like every other present handed your way had From Daddy written on it in Rafe’s handwriting.

Iris was asleep in Rafe’s arms by the time the guests began to leave. She was absolutely knocked out from all the excitement of the day.

Rafe stroked her hair absentmindedly as you both saw your guests off, thanking everyone for coming.

It was just close family and friends left, JJ and the pogues were loading up the car with Iris’ gifts while you ate another piece of birthday cake.

“Turned out pretty good,” Rafe said, speaking softly as he held your sleeping daughter.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. You did not have to go all out like this.” You raised your eyebrows at him, icing smeared on your lips.

Rafe reached forward with his free hand, swiping his thumb across your lips and gathering up the icing. He popped his thumb into his own mouth, sucking the icing off as he held eye contact with you. You watched him, stunned for a minute.

“It’s no big deal,” Rafe said as if nothing had happened. “I wanted her to have a good party.”

You just looked at him. He was unbothered as usual.

“Well, it was a great party,” you finally said. “I appreciate it, Rafe.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for doing things for our daughter. I want to.”

You knew he was being honest. Rafe went overboard sometimes, this being a perfect example, but he had the best intentions and it wasn’t hurting anyone. It was hard not to fall in love with him when you watched him being the world’s best dad.

When the car was packed full and there were still plenty of gifts left, Rafe told the guys to start loading the rest in his truck.

“I’m worried all this stuff isn’t gonna fit in the house,” you said, furrowing your brows as you threw away some trash.

“Anything there’s not room for she can keep at my place,” Rafe offered. Most of her stuff was at your and JJ’s house, because that’s where she spent most of her time, but she certainly was spoiled at Rafe’s too.

When everything was successfully packed up, Rafe buckled Iris into her car seat. She was so tired she barely stirred, continuing to nap as he snapped the buckles around her body and carried her to your car.

Rafe locked the car seat into the base in your back seat. He turned to you, suddenly standing so close.

“I’ll follow you back to the house,” he said quietly. “Help you unload all this stuff.”

Back at the house, you carried Iris’ seat inside, unbuckling her and bringing her to her bedroom while Rafe and JJ unloaded the cars. You changed her out of her dress and into something comfy and let her hair down.

You rocked her in the glider. She was so worn out from her day she started to drift back off quickly, her eyes fluttering shut and body relaxing in your arms.

When you stood to lay her in her crib, you noticed Rafe standing at the door. You slightly jumped when you saw him, not expecting him to be there, which made him chuckle quietly and you gave him a playful glare.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you and Rafe softly.

“She’s tired, huh,” Rafe observed, smiling at you. He was in a good mood today - it had been a good day.

“Worn out,” you agreed.

Rafe reached forward, rubbing his large hand down your arm. “You did really good, by the way.”

“It was fun,” you said. “But the planner definitely did most of the work.”

“She just did the boring part, you made the whole thing come together.”

You smiled back at him. He was being sweet, he was making an effort.

“I know everyone’s been saying it all day, but I can’t believe she’s actually one,” Rafe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It feels like she was just born.”

Your smile was tinged with sadness, the emotions from the day sticking with you. “I know. It’s too fast. All of it,” You shook your head, thinking of how fleeting her baby days had been.

“I just wish…” Rafe began, looking down at his hands instead of at you as he spoke, “That I didn’t have to miss out on any of her life.”

You were silent. You knew what he meant. But you also knew that a relationship didn’t work between the two of you. It was toxic, you were both jealous, you fought all the time. When you co-parented as two single parents, things were easy. If only you could ignore the way he made you feel.

Rafe sighed when you didn’t respond. He said your name softly. You turned to look at him, finding his deep blue eyes staring into yours. He walked up to you until he was standing right in front of you, hand reaching up to play with your hair.

“Rafe…” you breathed, and you knew you should push him away, walk away, anything, but you don’t.

Rafe leaned down until his lips met yours, kissing you softly, gently. You felt yourself melt into his kiss, like every bit of common sense in your brain was dying.

His arms wrapped around your hips, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, massaging your own.

You moaned against his lips, which only egged him on more as he slid his hands around your body to grab your ass.

You pulled away just enough to speak. “JJ could walk back here at any second…” you whispered against his mouth.

Rafe’s lips quirked up in a smirk, because he didn’t particularly care about that. But he knew you did.

“Maybe we can go to your bedroom, then?” he proposed, his fingers stroking over your body and sending shivers across your skin.

You wanted to say yes. But it was always a bad idea, always such a bad idea - maybe for once you’d make a smart decision.

“I can’t…” you said, sounding like it pained you.

Rafe just held you for a second longer. Finally, he pressed his lips to your forehead, giving it a kiss as he pulled away from you, squeezing your arm as he let you go.

“I better get going then,” he said, and neither of you wanted him to, but you didn’t change your mind. You didn’t stop him.

Rafe turned and left the house before you could even say anything. You stood in the hallway until you heard the front door closing, his truck starting outside.

You briefly thought about running after him, begging him to come back and spend the night with you. But you don’t. You decide to have more respect for yourself than that.

But you spend the whole night in your bed, thinking of him, aching for him. Until you reach for your cell phone, charging on the bedside table. You send him an impulsive text, just seeing if he’s still up.

His response comes immediately.

Rafey

Knew you’d regret letting me leave.

[mationstw]

Think about the people you've killed by making this decision, and for what? You're most likely not in the top 5%, most likely living in the middle of no where with a gas station, a Walmart, and some decrepit grocery store. Your taxes, your prices, your rent, is all going up.

when you end up with a dead daughter, a traumatized wife, and a dead sister, with no method of paying rent, or moving because of the severely secured borders, and high prices on everything you could ever want- while you beg for help and forgiveness while women die because of who is in office-remember.

You did this.

this is no one else's fault to take but yours. you voted for him, and then suffer the plans he has said time and time again- you refuse to accept that he didn't ever say he was going to help you. He thinks for himself, and only himself.

you did this. you cost us this democracy, you cost women safe healthcare and people their livelihoods.

This is your fault.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

[deadpresidents]

I just hope these next 4 years go by fast

This election isn't just about the next four years. With Trump in the White House and a Republican Senate at his side, the MAGA movement can pick up where they left off when it comes to packing the federal judiciary with right-wing judges who will control the Supreme Court and appellate courts throughout the country potentially for the rest of the lives of everyone reading this right now. It's the perfect recipe for them to continue stripping reproductive rights away from women nationwide and gives them the opportunity to turn their attention to the other issues that they have been dying to attack, from voting rights to gay marriage and every other extension of personal freedom that has been won by minorities and marginalized people in hard-fought battles over the past 60 years. This is the nightmare scenario that people have been warning folks about for the past few elections. It's here. And there isn't going to be a way to put the toothpaste back in the tube.

The consequences of this election will have a direct, negative impact on your life -- possibly on the entire remainder of your life. This country just re-elected a President with authoritarian tendencies who is the willing puppet of a dangerous Christian nationalist movement that figured out exactly how to manipulate him (through flattery) for their aims. They have created the perfect vehicle for a genuine cult of personality that they can use to achieve the goals they have been very clear about striving for over the past few years. And you can't blame anybody other than the American voters because they not only elected Trump, but they gave him a fucking mandate, with a Republican Senate and potentially a Republican House. They already have a right-wing dominated Supreme Court for the next few decades, and now they are going to ensure that the entire federal judiciary is in their control for years to come. And don't forget the fact that a few months ago, the Supreme Court handed down a decision that gave Presidents sweeping immunity for a broad (and conveniently undefined) range of "official" acts, so Trump is going to go into this second term knowing that not only does he not have to deal with the "guardrails" of responsible adults he had around him in his first term (Mattis, Tillerson, Kelly, General Milley, etc), but he knows he can get away with virtually anything and everything that he wants to do this time around. If you thought that Trump's first term was bad, just understand that they are prepared this time and now he's surrounded himself with people who will do his bidding -- people who are perfectly willing to let Trump be Donald Trump.

I wish there was a reason to cry foul, lodge protests, and challenge the election's results. But this wasn't a rigged election. There isn't any confusion about what the voters really wanted. The American people did this. People you know and care about and who say they care about you are the people who did this. We need to recognize that these elections aren't outliers anymore. Trump's supporters aren't simply chaos agents who got lucky on a bad day for the Democrats. That's the country we live in now and we have to find a way to resist it that actually makes a difference because now they have the keys to all the doors and all of the alarm codes. This country has normalized the conspiracy theories and nativism and racism that has powered the MAGA movement since the moment Trump came down the elevator at Trump Tower in 2015. He's given those people permission to be open with their hatred towards people who aren't like them, and it's actually become surprising to see how many Americans have been eager to take advantage of that. I didn't think I had any misconceptions about this country before Donald Trump because I recognized this nation's history, but I clearly had some misconceptions about people I thought I knew until I saw them wearing a red MAGA hat or noticed they had a gigantic flag with Trump's name hanging where their U.S. flag used to hang. Once that happened, it was like a switch went off with them and they started saying things in ways that I'd never heard them speak. I feel like that's happened to the entire country. It breaks my heart and it pisses me off.

For the past few years, I've been warning everybody about how elections have consequences. I imagine that there are hundreds of posts on this blog with that phrase in all caps listed with the tags. Now the elections have happened, and we have to live with real fucking consequences. And we're going to pass these consequences on to other generations because this is the one that you can't get a do-over on. When you give a movement like this the power and the mandate that this country just gave them, there is no easily rolling back the things that they end up doing. They are going to fundamentally change the lives of people in this nation and especially change the way the younger generations of Americans live and love and learn for years to come. And you have people in your life who made that happen. It's another disgusting day in America -- a prelude to another reprehensible four years (at the very least) -- and I'm ashamed of tens of millions of my fellow Americans because this one is on them. They know exactly who the man is that they voted for, and now we know exactly who they are, too.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus likes to stare at you

cw: suggestive themes, hardcore pinning, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, obsessive thoughts, yandere?? optimus i guess, bro is down bad for you

word count: 995

an: had a blast wiritng this, i love making characters disgustingly obsessed with reader lmao

He was doing it again.

Optimus is a calculated being. He didn’t make rash decisions, never threw words to the wind. Every action he took had meaning; none were purposeless or born of impulse or whim. He was crafted to be the perfect leader, to guide thousands, millions. He was supposed to be an authority, the alpha and omega, someone to be respected, admired, and followed. But there was one creature who turned his philosophy upside down and broke his facade.

He blinked once, twice. His optics returned to reading the report on the datapad. However, not even ten seconds of focus passed—a return to being the Prime—and his attention was anchored somewhere else again.

He couldn’t tell anymore, was he doing it on purpose or automatically? A force stronger than him, stronger than Primus himself, was pulling his optics toward that one being capable of breaking him. In the presence of this rare power, he was truly defenseless, revealing to everyone close to him the truth of his feelings, the intensity of which surpassed his wildest expectations. They had grown beyond his control, fierce and unyielding, like a wild beast impossible to tame.

He knew it was inappropriate, and unfitting for you and his friends; he should have restrained the beast before it became a problem. But he hadn’t. He had failed, and another burden had taken residence on his shoulders.

You laughed, and his optics instantly shifted to you. His spark throbbed pleasantly, distracting him from tormenting his very being. He adored that sound, rejoicing every time he heard it. It was melodic, soothing, and calming. In an instant, it tamed his chaotic processor, now focused solely on you, the real you. Optimus observed every smile, frown, and wrinkle on your face with great curiosity, even though he had done it countless times. He watched your chest rise and fall, counting how many breaths you took in a minute. He searched for any abnormalities or signs of illness. Nothing escaped his attention.

He already knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the report. Not when you were so close to him, when he knew there was a microscopic chance you’d start a conversation with him. You’d honor him and look at him, too. He didn't dare to ask for more. He longed, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself that—at least not now. For the sake of keeping an image, he still held the datapad in his hand, but his thoughts were circling around you.

You were discussing something with Miko about a topic he didn’t understand, related to Earth’s video games. For some time now, he had planned to gather knowledge about them, so he could have conversations with you beyond his comfort zone, aligned with your interests. He wanted to be more approachable, and friendly, enticing you to spend more time with him. Amidst the stream of words, he caught a single one, which he assumed was a title, and made a mental note to study it later. Would you be happy to see him as someone worth talking to? Would you smile, let him hold you on his servo or shoulder? Help ease a processor constantly focused on unknowns and daydreams?

Content simply to be in your presence, yet fantasizing about something deeper, more intimate, he was still intently watching you. He had drifted so far from shore that he acknowledged Jack's and Rafael’s greetings a second too late. He nodded to the kids and briefly watched as they climbed onto the couch beside you. You had a way with children, caring for them, and helping with their school projects, but most importantly, you were their friend. Seeing you surrounded by children had an effect on Optimus—a feeling he was even frightened to contemplate because it easily took over him, pulling him away from reality, creating visions that would never come true, no matter how much he wanted them to.

"You are crossing the line," he reminded himself, fully aware that he had crossed it long ago. The cup had overflowed; there was no going back. Primus, he had just daydreamed about having offspring with a different species.

The truth was, despite all the self-flagellation, despite the hatred for what he had become, the ruin he had brought upon himself, he didn’t want to stop. You were a pleasant distraction from the war, death, and suffering that had accompanied him since becoming Prime, and for now, he didn’t plan to (couldn't) let go of that distraction. This didn’t mean his little obsession with you was painless—quite the contrary. However, those brief moments when your attention was focused on him, when you shared your touch as you traveled with him through Jasper when you looked only at him, made up for all the pain, torment, and hell he went through. Then there was no war, no Decepticons, no Optimus Prime. There was only him and you.

One last time, he tried to return to the report, but this time it wasn’t his illusions sabotaging his work. This time, it was you.

“Optimus,” your voice freed him from the prison of his thoughts. “I’d totally understand if you don’t have time to leave the base. But… would you perhaps like to drive me home? It’s getting late.”

“Of course, [Name],” he replied immediately because refusing you made no sense.

“Can’t you ask Bumblebee instead of dragging Optimus to fulfill your whims?” Ratchet intruded into the conversation.

“That will not be a problem for me,” Optimus assured, with an unusually stern tone aimed more at the medic than at you. “I am at your service, [Name].”

“Thank you!”

He transformed and waited patiently for you to join him. He opened the door, and once you climbed into the seat, he fastened the seatbelt himself. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the slow pace he had settled upon, that this time he had decided to be selfish, savoring the unrestrained pleasure of your privacy.

[rosyhoneydew]

A quick love letter to my Bucktommy family in the form of a fix-it <3

Bucktommy | fix-it | Teen | 1141 words | warnings: this is angsty at the start and tiptoes toward addressing biphobia so please care for yourself and don't read if that will exacerbate your hurt.

They're three beers deep when the doorbell rings again.

It's been a fucking night. He hadn't really had much to say to Eddie when he got there, thankfully he hadn't had to, especially considering Eddie was clearly in the midst of his own kind of night. It feels better, not being alone, at least. But the alcohol mixes with his head and twists the moment in his apartment further. How come every time I want to move forward I get pushed back?

He's not even paying attention when Eddie goes up to get the door, just fiddles with the bottle in his hand more, peeling the label into tiny pieces and laying them on Eddie's coffee table for him to pick up later.

"Shit-" Eddie stumbles as he makes his way. And then Buck can feel a little breeze as he goes to tell whoever it is that this isn't a good time.

"Oh thank god-" Buck freezes, determined not to turn around. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I think I fucked up."

That's Tommy.

"I panicked a little. Evan asked me to move in and I think I freaked out."

"Uhh-" Eddie adds.

"We just got done talking about my ex who I had to end an engagement with and it just- it felt like he was trying to make up for his own freak out about it and-" Buck hears him take a deep breath, "I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do, you know? He- he should get to make sure that's what he really wants." He takes another breath. "Are you not wearing pants?"

"Umm-"

Buck's heart rate had steadily ramped up hearing Tommy speak, but it's when he stops that Buck feels tears prickle at his eyes. He whips around then, still nestled into Eddie's couch, betrayal in his voice when he speaks.

"I did!" and shit. He didn't really mean to shout that.

"I'm gonna..." Eddie trails off as he heads into his bedroom.

"Why do you think I didn't make sure that's what I wanted?" he demands. He hadn't thought he'd be so angry, but this felt like something to him, and Tommy's running. Again. "Because that girl hit on me at the restaurant?"

Tommy looks shell-shocked. Like he's still grasping the fact that Buck is here, so Buck just keeps talking.

"Or because I haven't dated a man before? So I must not know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Buck-"

"Don't call me that."

"Evan," Tommy steps a little closer, and Buck leans toward the cushions, petty, but feeling raw still. "That is not why."

Buck levels him with a look.

"Okay, what you said is fair enough," he relents. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you couldn't make your own decisions about this."

"What did you mean?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, a flicker of pain on his face.

"I meant... what I said," he lands on. "You would break my heart, Evan."

"You don't know that." The tears finally crest over his lower lids and make their way to his mouth. "You can't just give up every time you're scared that I'm going to leave you, Tommy. It's not fair, you're not even giving me the chance to stay."

Tommy's lip wobbles a little now too, but he stays and listens.

"I wanted to stay, I wanted you to stay. With me. Permanently. Why would you think I would leave you?"

He cries now, and Buck hasn't ever seen him cry.

"I don't know," he gets out, choked and soft. "I see you, sometimes. With the 118 and everyone's families and I... I don't feel like I fit, Evan. I don't get how I fit into that."

"You fit into it because you're my boyfriend. My partner."

"I am?" he asks, treading closer ever slightly to the couch.

This time Buck leans his way. He sets his bottle down and looks down at his hands.

"Did you mean what you told Eddie? You fucked up? Because I fucked up, once, at the beginning of us, and you gave me that second chance and I'm so glad you did, Tommy, because these last few months have been better than I could've hoped. I don't want to let that go because of this so... yeah you can be, if you want."

Tommy rushes to the couch, he sits as close as he can get and grabs Buck's hands firmly. Warm and sure.

"I want that. I want us again. Please."

"You can have it," Buck whispers, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes Tommy's hands. "Just don't leave again, please."

"I won't, I won't."

Then there's a kiss at the crown of his head, and Tommy's other hand rubs soft circles over his back. He murmurs sweet nothings in Buck's ear all the while.

I'm sorry. I'm glad you were here. I missed you as soon as I walked out the door. I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm staying.

They sit like that for a while until a throat clearing from the hallway has them both lifting their heads to find Eddie, fully-clothed.

"What were you guys doing before I got here, by the way?" Tommy asks, humor back in his voice.

"Well, I was drinking my sorrows away. I don't know what Tom Cruise was doing."

"Ha ha," Eddie says, making his way to the couch, no qualms about forcing them to scooch over to make room. "We can talk about my shit tomorrow. You guys worked it out I guess?"

Buck looks up at Tommy, smiles, and kisses him with a loud peck just to make Eddie huff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah," Tommy says, looking at ease. "Although..." he starts.

Buck turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know that moving into your place is going to work," Tommy admits.

Buck sits up a little, mouth just opening to speak when Tommy cuts him off.

"I want to live with you, Evan, but your place is barely big enough for one person, so maybe we can workshop location, yeah?" he smiles a crinkly smile, the kind that always lets Buck know he's feeling fond, feeling secure.

It's Buck's turn to huff now. "It gets good light," he grumbles.

Tommy kisses his temple again, Buck gets the distinct feeling that he will be getting kissed quite a bit in the near future, and he chances a quick look at Eddie to see if they're being annoying.

Instead, he sees Eddie smiling too, he's looking on like he's proud and it makes Buck want to tear up again. Eddie gives him a nod and Buck nods back.

A weight lifts off his shoulders then. In the arms of the man he's growing to love and accepted by his family.

~~~~

I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared my fics, sent me nice messages about my writing for these two, and to everyone who created content for them while they were canon. I'm thankful for every minute of it :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

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

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo. 

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them. 

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better. 

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description. 

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty. 

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return. 

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him. 

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.  

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay. 

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too. 

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual. 

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne. 

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.” 

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial. 

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do. 

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says. 

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king. 

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again. 

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.” 

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?” 

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you. 

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?” 

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it. 

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch. 

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt. 

“I don’t know the code,” you say. 

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.” 

You nod. 

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase. 

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.” 

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently. 

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning. 

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it. 

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--” 

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?” 

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds. 

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?” 

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards. 

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.” 

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling. 

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.” 

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means. 

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--” 

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.” 

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks. 

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.” 

[hungwy]

I thought I was going to have a normal day but I guess I spent about 6 hours looking at election data and exit polls. So here's my findings

This election we saw 17.4 million less votes than in 2020. Had those who voted in the 2020 election voted in 2024, Harris theoretically would've gained around 14.3 million potential votes from previous Biden voters, and Trump would've gained 2.3 million from previous Trump voters. But she in fact seemed to have lost a great deal of Biden's voter base, having only 67.2 million votes compared to Biden's 81.3 million. The 14 million "lost" Biden votes did not go to Trump either--he has had a consistently sized voting base in both elections, which in fact shrank from 74.2 million to 71.8 million this election.

More than likely, previous Biden voters simply sat out this election due to dissatisfaction with the candidates. A smaller pool of voters with less amounts of Democrats voting of course results in a larger pool of votes for Trump (in fact, both Trump and the Independents had less votes overall in 2024 than in 2020). Considering the split of the popular vote this election, Harris 2024 was as unpopular as Trump 2020, and Trump 2024 was as popular as Biden 2020. It seems Harris failed to pull in any new voters. In both years those with previous voting experience were basically split evenly between the two candidates, making new and inconsistent voters the decision-makers: In 2020, 14% of voters said that 2020 was their first year they had voted, and 64% of those new voters opted for Biden. In 2024, 8% of voters were new, and they generally opted for Trump at 54%. Many new voters in 2024, young people, are more conservative than voters of the same demographic in 2020, 36% voted for Trump in 2020, with 42% now for Trump 2024. There were many Hispanic/Latino voters this year as well: In 2020, the demographic voted 32% for Trump, rising up to 45% in 2024.

Looking at voting issues for Trump supporters, it is clear they feel their financial well-being was weakened by Biden and that they want a leader who will enact big changes to the economy, immigration, and foreign policy, all of which are Trump's main talking points (and perhaps these specific concerns came to be important because Trump mentioned them, who knows). The Democratic Party opting for a more moderate candidate like Harris, who offered the same policies as the last president, consequently could not tap into the economic concerns of Trump voters.

Exit polls from the 2024 presidential election