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[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

kicking screaming crying throwing up blood rn deadass

[allusivealyssa]

Dropping a post tonight and then I might be absent a while 🫣

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[gyuswhore]

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me. 

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone. 

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside. 

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building. 

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years. 

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.” 

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you. 

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends. 

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day. 

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong. 

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey. 

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise. 

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung. 

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects. 

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.” 

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too. 

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand. 

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time. 

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own. 

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game. 

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight. 

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something. 

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say. 

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward. 

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you. 

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile. 

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing. 

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating. 

“Wait!” 

You turn around at his voice. 

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours. 

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled. 

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.” 

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek. 

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off. 

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to. 

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before. 

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both. 

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do. 

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye. 

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.” 

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore. 

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time. 

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered. 

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay. 

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower. 

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left. 

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship. 

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?” 

Slowly, but surely, he nods. 

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.” 

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home. 

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again. 

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade. 

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet. 

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. 

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own. 

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back. 

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you. 

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him. 

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other. 

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative. 

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon. 

He let a couple tears slip. 

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest. 

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind. 

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes. 

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow. 

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies. 

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like. 

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption. 

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?” 

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training. 

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.” 

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day. 

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other. 

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for. 

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed. 

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year. 

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have. 

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.” 

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile. 

“Oh, he’s here with me,” 

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens. 

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.  

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.” 

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?” 

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.” 

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him. 

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms. 

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.” 

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time. 

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like. 

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different. 

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears. 

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt. 

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden. 

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.” 

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill. 

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are. 

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.” 

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all. 

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights. 

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away. 

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups. 

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.” 

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation. 

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring. 

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows. 

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward. 

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently. 

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow. 

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening. 

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now. 

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours. 

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself. 

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours. 

“You okay?” 

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely. 

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance. 

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance. 

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you. 

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind. 

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself. 

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest. 

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak. 

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass. 

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina. 

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other. 

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture. 

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another. 

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad. 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other. 

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain. 

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say. 

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

[jolapeno]

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A River of Honey

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Navigating through life with your husband and son who both seemed to have developed an appetite for something only you can provide.

Warning: breastfeeding, mild lactation kink, innuendos

Word Count: 1142

With the two of you being forced into a marriage you did not want, it was difficult to coexist with each other, let alone initiate anything between you.  Your two-year marriage did end up with you having an 8-month old son as Gojō is only a man, ever so vulnerable to the natural charm of a woman.  But aside from sharing a child, you have nothing else that binds you to each other.

But lately, his crystalline blue eyes have been wandering to your ample bosom much too often.

Being in the Gojō estate house, you had to follow a few rules.

One is that you are never allowed to speak ill of your husband and your family.

You must not meet any man unaccompanied.

Entering the council hall is strictly forbidden.

Your hair must be in a specific bun, adorned with ornaments to symbolize status.

And lastly, you must follow the traditional dress code.

Most of the time, you wore kimonos, all having the colors of the Gojō banners.  It was their way of branding you as theirs.  And your husband did not like that.  But you, well it always reminded you of his eyes so you cannot bring yourself to complain.

During the course of your pregnancy, your husband protested about making you wear heavy fabric when it was too hot.  They did not relent.

So, your husband took it upon himself to rid your closet with the intricate kimonos and obi.  He threw them all in the cold of the night through your window, and shot a blast of cursed energy on the pile just for good measure.

From then on, your kimonos were lighter.  You did not have to wear multiple layers.  And even after you gave birth, the clan decided not to test their luck and just let you wear whatever is comfortable for you.  After all, you gifted the family a promising heir.  One that looked exactly like the master of the house, an exact replica of his father.

Gojō leaned on a tree in your garden one day, his legs stretched out in front of him.  He was watching you as you sat by the pond with your little boy on your lap, pointing at the koi fish that swam by.

“No.”  He hears you chuckle.  “We don’t eat them.”

As Gojō expected, a tiny frown forms on your son’s face the moment you said ‘no’, his lips wobbling and he turns to his father as if silently asking for rescue.

You sigh as you stand up.  “Wanna come to dada?”  Upon hearing this, your son hesitates and his tiny fists tighten on your sleeves.  But before he can protest, you drop his bum on Gojō’s lap.

“Hey there, bud.”  Gojō grins but the little boy doesn’t respond to him as his eyes remain trained on you as you sit next to your husband and pick up the book you brought with you earlier.

A poke to your son’s cheek finally made him look at his father, with a slightly irritated look in addition to his in-distressed expression.

“Mama’s not upset.”  Gojō says as he smoothens the hair of the child.  “She’s only teasing.”

Your son thinks for a moment and slumps on his father’s chest, his cheeks squished as he looks at your face.  Waiting for you to confirm it.  But you pretend not to hear as you turn the page on your book.  You’re not going to tolerate this attitude, you don’t need two spoiled Gojōs.

“Lighten up, Satoshi.  We’ll get you a non-koi fish to eat later.”  Gojō tried again, his grin widening every moment.

But Satoshi scowls at his father and shook his head. 

“Oh?  You don’t want to eat fish anymore?”

His son shook his head once more.

“What do you want to eat then?”  Gojō scratched his head.  “Want some taiyaki?”

Satoshi glares at his father.  “No!” 

Gojō’s eyebrows rise slowly.  “Come again?”

A red hue appears on Satoshi’s nose and judging by the large gulp of air he took, a wail is most certainly coming.

“MAMA!”  He bawls, his hands outstretched to you as large tears spill to his cheeks. 

Gojō grimaces, quickly handing you your son.  “Alright go to mama.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you drop your book to the side to cradle your baby.  He buries his face to your chest, soaking your kimono.  You rub his back in a soothing manner.

“What a crybaby.”  Gojō laughs, making his son glare at him behind his tears.

“Don’t listen to dada.”  You smile while smooching Satoshi’s chubby cheek.  “Stop crying now, I’ll ask them to make you something good to eat, okay?”

Satoshi looks at you with apprehension. 

“What?”  You smile sweetly.

He looks away from you and his tiny baby hands play with your kimono making you laugh.

“You have to talk, Satoshi.”  You say even though you know what he’s doing.

“Milk mama.”  He mumbles while he fiddles with his fingers.

After looking around your garden and not seeing anyone, you shift your kimono to the side and unbutton your nursing bra showing your lush breast and still puffy nipple.  Satoshi latches instantly.  His eyes become droopy almost immediately, breastfeeding is becoming a swift sleep inducer to him.

You turn to your unusually quiet husband and see just in time how he stared at your bosom with his pupils dilating as he swallowed audibly.  Warmth ran through your body and you looked away quickly, pretending that you saw none of it.

“That’s really convenient huh.”  He spoke, his voice a few timbres deeper.  “You just unbutton and your teat is out.”

“Mhm.”  You hum as you play with a lint on your lap.

Gojō wets his lips and he tries to look away but his eyes often wander to you every now and then.  You see his leg bouncing slightly in a steady motion.  And his hand raked his hair way too much that it started sticking out to multiple angles.

“I should put Satoshi back in his room.”  You say softly after you unlatched your son and tidied your clothes.

Gojō is quick to stand and offer his hand to you.  “I’ll come too.”

You thanked him and walked side by side with him.  He doesn’t tolerate you walking behind him.  

You smiled at him gratefully as he opened the door to Satoshi’s room and placed the pillows around your son’s crib.  Gojō pretends to look interested in a furby, as your neckline dips while putting your son down.  His heart softened when you smoothed his hair as you whispered, “I love you”.

He guided you out of the room and you are about to head back to your garden when his arm finds your waist and you are being led to your bedroom instead.

“My turn now, mama.”

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪩Track 1 - The Beginning of an Era

welcome to reputations...want to continue?

December 1, 2023

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing freshman year loading...

we are thrilled to announce that theopourchaire21 will be joining alexalbon as our driver line-up for 2024!

liked by formula1fan, logansargeant, alexalbon, and 75,284 others

lolo2024 this is not what I needed today, tomorrow, or ever

log4n_sarg um, lets rewind and go back to the post where Logan was supposed to be signed for 2024

logansargeant I'm so happy for theopourchaire21, no one deserves it more than him!

f1_fanatic I know he was sobbing writing that L2-nation his PR team probably had tears when they told him formula1_today I feel so bad for him

user2 did they even tell Logan that they weren't signing him?? this seems so rushed and I thought Williams told Logan that he'd have another chance...

oscarpiastri so happy for you mate! can't wait to have you on the grid!

what-the_f-is-a-kmeter the ultimate betrayal right here

formula1_power well, my 2023 was just ruined

arrowmclaren has just posted

arrowmclaren we are happy to announce our diver line-up for the 2024 IndyCar season! With Pato O'Ward, Alexander Rossi, and David Malukas, we have a strong season ahead of us!

liked by racer.y/n, indyxf1, carsgozoom, indy5hundred, and 89,238 others

indyxf1 first Logan and now Y/n??!! What has this world gone to?!

arrowML uhhhh, this was not on the 2023 bingo card

o-wardo I mean, I like Rossi, but L/n was such a beast this season. doesn't make sense that they drop her after her rookie year

Dave-dives4arrows boooooo - we didn't ask for this

mclarenall-round exactly! Y/n was the perfect fit for the team! y/n.fan well, I mean...our girl was kind of outcasted by the others. maybe this is just a new beginning y/n_nation true, I'm thinking maybe NASCAR maybe? fan-f1 now here me out...Formula 1?

racer.y/n thank you for all the memories! welcome to the family alexanderrossi - you deserve it

indyfan2 I know she has tears in her eyes as she writes this logansarg3ant Y/n and Logan's pr teams will need therapy after December 1, 2023

Logan&y/n Y/n and Logan really are "the outcast rookies" club

f1 with Lamborghini_Racing has posted

f1 something new is coming for the 2024 season...

formula 1 is happy to announce the arrive of new constructor team: the Royal Automobili Lamborghini-Andretti Formula 1 Team. They will be headed by Team Principal Michael Andretti.

They will be backed by high-end sponsors such as Dior, Armani, Hermes, Fendi, and Panerai.

However, we are saddened by the leave of the HAAS Formula 1 team. We wish them well as they are planning to enter next year's IndyCar Championship.

liked by formoola1, lamb0, chrisncars, kart-ing, y/n-lover, and 90,298 others

formula1-fanatic and suddenly, 2023 has a come back after Williams's and ArrowMcLaren's posts

fan-f1 PLEASE SIGN LOGAN AND Y/N - THEY DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE PLEASE I'M BEGGING

fan-f1 ok - I'm done f1-f1-f1 now hold on, you might be onto something

America_in_f1 I'm sad that HAAS is leaving, but will we be able to still hear the Star Spangled Banner if Andretti wins?

user-fan-75 technically no since Lamborghini is the main constructor and they are an Italy based manufacturer what-the-f_is_a-kmeter BOOOOOOOO logansArgeant2 now, hear me out - we get Logan AND y/n and up the possibilities by two

indy-fan I came here for Y/n, now you all need to sign her RN

y/n-nation what even is F1? but I want my girl to be in it

f1_power welcome to the family!

haas_fan awwww I'm going to miss Kevin and Nico, will they be signed automatically?

haas-fan2 I don't think so. Andretti hasn't put out an official statement yet but I think he'd want to start fresh

y/nxlogan all fans of the "outcast rookies" rise, we've found our opening

Email

To: y/n.l/npr.email.com CC: Logan.sargeantpr.email.com

To whom it may concern,

We would like to invite the two of you to come to Sant'Agata Bolognese, Italy for a few days of testing. I personally cannot confirm a seat for the 2024 season, but we've have our eyes on the two of you since early spring.

Please let us know by the end of the week if either of you are interested. We are in need of time if everything goes well. If it does, and the two of you would like to join the Royal Automobili Lamborghini-Andretti Formula 1 team, contracts could be signed as early as next week.

My sister Marissa will be in touch for a check-in if these emails weren't correct.

She says that you both need a Reputations Era, or whatever that means.

I personally look forward to hearing back from the two of you. Have a blessed day.

Team Principal Michael Andretti

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[mysticmunson]

between four walls (e.m.)

a/o/b: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

summary: when you disappear from school for a few days, eddie is a bit bewildered, until he has a sneaking suspicion.

warning: a/o/b, smut, language

an: hi friends, thank you so much for another follower milestone! i asked what you would like next and this won! i've been working on a/o/b fics off and on for a few months, i think its very fun so feel free to message me ideas about them for blurbs! all my love. xx elora.

The sticky air of Hawkins, Indiana made Eddie’s slovenly curls cling to his neck, likely getting tangled in his beaded, silver chain as his sneakers padded across the rubble. The last place he wanted to be was in Hawkins High, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the cream walls too poignantly and banners announcing peer events. 

He had always had a distaste for conformity, but after presenting as an Alpha, he clandestinely craved a sense of ordinariness. His toes pressed against the tip of his sneakers, his favorite leather jacket felt tighter, and his skin felt like the fizz on a freshly opened Coca-Cola. Sensations fluctuate depending on the day with his body attempting to steady itself as his mind tries to comprehend his new demeanor. 

While every day had been weird since that fateful day last month, his friends tried to maintain normality by focusing on Hellfire or acknowledging how his buff physique made him look menacing, but things had been slightly off with you. 

Every day you sat beside Eddie, even if he assured he wouldn’t be upset if you decided to relocate to avoid the relentless teasing he faced, but you stayed. After years of friendship, you chose to ignore any conflicted gazes, opting to enjoy your company. With satin ribbons in your hair, flowy, floral dresses that rest just above your knees, and your soft skin that always smelled like vanilla from your tube of hand lotion, he felt protective over you.

So when you moved from his left to the very end of the table, each inch felt like miles, cursing himself for feeling so intensely. Always admiring your beauty from a respectful distance, he adamantly maintained the friendship boundary, learning the line and fighting to take a step over.

As he sat in his math class, he awaited your arrival to your assigned seat at the second row of wooden desks, but the bell rang and it remained empty. This was the third day in a row, the first time you had even missed a full day, always finding some hidden strength to persevere through most of the school day. Hell, you often grilled Eddie on his lack of punctuality when it came to his education. 

The hairs on his arms stood up, his foot tapping relentlessly against the freshly waxed tile below, trying to rationalize your behavior and disappearance. Plucking the loose threads on his ripped jeans, he couldn’t bother to even think of equations. 

Your lack of communication had him on high alert, resisting the urge to confront you in fear of scaring you. He didn’t feel a need to worry about it until he presented, his voice dropped a tad lower, his facial hair growing faster which left him with consistent stubble, and his eyes felt sharper despite their baby-like softness. 

As class ended with Eddie not retaining a word of information, he looked at the double doors sending sunlight through, thinking how easy it would be to drive to your house and find out what was wrong. Why you hadn’t been answering his calls, why you weren’t at school, and why you even missed Hellfire. Granted, you didn’t know much about Dungeons and Dragons and usually just sat and watched, it felt peculiar to see your chair empty. 

Meanwhile in a quiet house at the curve of a cul de sac, you laid in bed wearing a shirt a size too big and underwear, leaving your mouth open to breathe. The fever encompassing your body added to your discomfort, tears selvage as your tired eyes stare at the wall, hoping that you would be back to normal soon.

Initially convinced it was a stomach ache, an awful flu that had you withering away in your bed, flustered as could be with clammy hands. But your gut wasn’t repulsed, it was the opposite, despite your body feeling like it was on fire as you laid in your bed, alone. 

It had been two miserable days since you presented as an omega, leaving you stranded with nothing to assist yourself. The clock only seemed to be moving slower as you could barely sleep without finding yourself in the depths of another dream, a dream of him.

“I’m glad we checked on you, you look like hell.” Robin joked, walking through your bedroom door with Nancy right behind. Even in your delirious state, you knew they typically didn’t hang out together, furrowing your brows. 

“Steve’s in the car waiting,” Nancy responded to your voiceless query, reaching her hand up to your forehead with a frown. “Shit, you’re burning up, have you gone to a doctor?” 

You shook your head, burrowing half of your face into your pillow with a deflated sigh, “I feel like shit and my stomach hurts, but not in a bad way, but so much that it is painful?” You stuttered in confusion, eyes hazy and unfocused. 

Robin fiddled with the various knick knacks in your room, lifting a pair of earrings to her in the mirror. Nancy stood back, looking at you with a thoughtful expression, rubbing her chin almost comically. 

“I also just want to call Eddie, but I keep feeling like I’m going to cry if I do. I talk to him everyday! It’s not my period either, I don’t know what's happening!” You exasperated, clenching your sheets closer to your chest as Nancy’s features clenched, sitting on the corner of your bed. 

Eddie had been your best friend for years and your longing crush for most of them. Conversations on the phone were routine for you, usually playfully arguing about something meaningless or watching a tv show while giving commentary. 

“Sounds like you're presenting, dude.” Robin laughed, turning around, only to be met with your fear filled face and Nancy’s “Did you seriously just say that?” expression that Robin had experienced frequently. 

With your parents being an alpha and omega duo, the chances they gave birth to one was highly likely, it was something you had expected. The days prior had left you anxious and exhausted, believing it just to be school related and nothing to note. 

“What?” You mumbled, sitting up, breath picking up as tears welled up, “Eddie’s an alpha, right? Oh my God!”

“Hey, hey! Calm down, you’re fine.” Nancy assured, pushing your shoulder gently back, looking at Robin for some form of support.

“I just want Eddie, but I-” You whimpered, hands coming up to your face before a random flannel was thrown at you from Robin. 

His flannel. 

His fucking red and black flannel he had accidentally left last weekend, you could’ve cried when you smelt it, the pain intensifying, but also blooming peace. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.” Nancy stroked your hair, even her heart breaking a bit at your muffled sadness. “Just try to relax, drink some water, and distract yourself. Okay?” You nodded, thanking them through the fabric in front of your face. 

As the girls trudged down the stairs, Robin looked at Nancy with a bewildered face, the front door closing behind them.

“We should tell Eddie! Apparently it’s fucking brutal the first time around!” She kept her tone hushed, Nancy sighing as she looked at the grass beneath our feet.

“She’s had a crush on him for years, Rob. What if something happens and it ruins their friendship? We have to let nature run its course. If she calls him, so be it, but we can’t be the ones to make that call.” Nancy sighed, opening Steve’s back seat door and piling in, Robin filing in the front.

The days for you were fairly torturous, only comforted by the smokey scent of the old flannel and the fantasies you entertained. Your mind began to run as you envisioned Eddie in all his alpha glory, which you hadn’t had the honor of seeing since he immediately goes into hiding when his rut hits.

His broad shoulders, firm grip that is free of rings since his hands swell, his plush lips cascading down your frame. The thought alone made you whimper, opening your eyes to glance at your pink phone, your shaking hands not even able to spin the dial. Your wooden bedside table felt miles away as you stared at it, tears pooling in your eyes at your helplessness. 

Part of you hoped he noticed your exodus while the other hoped things would go completely back to normal when you returned. The concept was naive, knowing there was no way you would be able to go back to a regular friendship with him, a thought that plagued you as soon as he returned to school after his first rut.

The front doors of the school couldn’t open quick enough, having not spent a week apart throughout your whole friendship. Even when your family would go out of town, you would call and talk on the phone as if he were right in front of you. 

His shoes squeaked against the freshly waxed tile of Ms. Green’s history class, Eddie strolling to his assigned seat towards the front. His chest was broader, thighs a bit thicker, and his face had a certain maturity that you didn’t recall. He turned over his shoulder, ignoring the stares from everyone else and locking eye contact with you, giving you a grin that you exchanged. 

When you walked out of class, he yanked you into a hug playfully, laughing in a huskier tone. For a moment you felt dizzy, shaking your head and pushing the unwarranted anxiety to the side. He was your best friend who you had seen shitfaced, crying at romcoms, and shared his bed when you didn’t want to go home. 

Things felt different though, never having been friends with an Alpha made everything novice. Each interaction with him made you shiver, feeling light headed with a subtle pain in your abdomen. So you forced space between you, keeping conversation to a minimum and avoiding him if possible. You assumed the pain would subside after a few days, but every time you tried to inch closer, it came crawling back.

In the solitude of your bedroom, your mind drifted to Eddie, starting with the curiosity of where he was or who he was with. Then the thought of him with someone to help him through his rut crept in, bringing a wave of sadness with it. Your feelings for Eddie were prominent for a long time, but you feared losing your best friend, choosing to have him as a pal than not at all.

You thought of him buffing up even more than when he was at school, remembering when you felt his crotch pressed against you when he scooted past, the prominent bulge gathering your attention. Envisioning the chance to touch him made your mouth water, trembling in your pajamas at the thought of his arms holding you and pressing his chest against yours. The way his dick wouldn’t fit your hand, having to use both to fully wrap around it and pleasing him. 

The idea anyone else did it made you feel sick, grabbing his sweatshirt he left over once and inhaling the scent. The seemingly innocent action made you feel like a pervert as his perfume lingered faintly on the cotton. 

Those thoughts felt like pure cotton candy to the ones you had now, of how he could walk in and do whatever he wanted and you’d love it. No matter what action he was committing, you would cry and beg for more. Even the idea of him being in the same room as you had you whimpering, twisting and turning with huffs of built frustration. 

Nancy and Robin stopped by a few times to check in on you, knowing you were too overwhelmed to make yourself food or get water. The school hours they had would usually sync with your nap time as you always woke at random moments in the night. Eddie had mentioned you to Robin that morning, wondering if she had seen you, which she attempted to deflect. 

“Why don’t you and Wheeler sit with my boys today?” 

Nancy almost killed Robin for saying yes, not because of Eddie’s reputation, but because she knew Robin was close to breaking. Always going soft after seeing you, saying how they need to just get you help and speed up this process.

So with sandwiches in hand, they sat quietly as the members of Corroded Coffin conversed about the latest Hellfire meeting. The younger boys were on a freshman field trip, conveniently leaving room for the girls to sit. Eddie snacked on the cold cafeteria food with lingering eyes on them, their skin crawling at the information they knew. 

Thankfully, the talkative nature of Gareth and Jeff derailed everyone’s attention, only noticing the 5 minutes left when Nancy took a glance at her watch as they went to throw away their trash. With freedom at their fingertips, it only seemed pleasantly ironic for it all to come tumbling down when Jason Carver appeared.

The potent bags under his eyes made him resemble a tortured Greek God, bronzed skin under the sun kissed hairs on his head. Eddie opened his mouth to begin his tangent, feeling his legs twitching to hop upon the tabletops, even though his recent development made him a bit calmer.

“Where is she?” Jason asked, not even glancing at the man beside him, locking on the girl's enlarged eyes. 

“Who?” Robin questioned, providing an awkward smile that made Jason scoff, wishing his skills developed enough to find you himself.

Jason was one of the other alpha’s at school, his rut helping him with sports and wearing it proudly on his sleeve. His progression made sense, fulfilling the family history of powerful alphas, but he had yet to find an omega to care for. Or even just to hold him over as most went into seclusion during their heats.

He wouldn’t have even known if a fellow member of the basketball team overheard the girls talking in hushed tones in the hallway, presuming no one could hear them over the sounds of chatter and clashing lockers. 

As if intended, the bell rang loudly, everyone standing to return to class. Jason kept his intense gaze until his friends yanked him away, pestering him for information about that night's practice. Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at the both of them, smelling a tinge of anxiety on them, a convenient sense he inhabited. 

“You guys have 10 seconds to say why Jason Carver just said her name.” He responded with fraudulent tranquility, his black lunch pail secured tightly in his palm, holding his ground despite the varying rushing bodies beside them. 

After a moment of silence, Nancy found herself surprised at her lack of a quick rebuttal, something about the look Eddie was giving her making her freeze. It wasn’t one of infatuation, more akin to fear as his tensity remained.

“She presented!” Robin sighed, shoulders relaxing as if pounds had been removed from her chest. Her friend smacked her arm, watching as the man across from them went stagnant. Despite the fleeting deliberations, all the girls across from him saw was his clenched jaw and his eyes diverting to the spot you typically sat.

“As what? And why the fuck does Jason Carver know before me?” He gritted out, clenched fists glued at the side of his thighs.

The bell signaling class started went off, jolting Nancy and Robin from their subtle haze, trying to think of anything to divert his attention. However, Robin couldn’t stop thinking about how you were crying for him, that you would feel infinitely better if she just mentioned the slight detail.

“I don’t know how he found out Eddie-” Nancy snapped, becoming irritated with the theatrics, wishing she was just in algebra class for the first time ever. 

“As an omega!” Robin blurted, Eddie’s eyes widening as his fists loosened, “She presented and has been a mess! She’s too emotional to do anything, just wallowing away and whining for you.” The last part trailed off, but Eddie understood it clearly, his instincts that just were beginning to sprout commencing to full bloom.

With tunnel vision, he found his way out of the school, not caring if any teacher saw him. His mind was on you. You, who had been crying in pain for him for days and no one cared to mention it. 

The way to your home went by in a blur, glad he knew the route well enough to not maintain complete fixation on the journey. His respiring didn’t cease as he sped down the old roads, trying his best to avoid the potholes or random piles of trash. 

He barely put the car into park before he was racing up your driveway, putting his hand behind the potted plant at the right side of the maroon door. With the key in hand, he was soon in, putting it in the nearby bowl at the entryway table. The house was quiet, everything in a perfect state, making him remember your parents were out of town for the week. 

The aroma reached his nose like a tidal wave, unfamiliar yet agrestal as he saw the light glowing from under the door at the end of the hall. His socks hit the carpet as he yanked his shoes off, promenading down the beige carpet with small floral detailing. 

The door opened when his hand gripped the bronze handle, finding you asleep in an oversized shirt, curled in on yourself with his lapsed flannel. A warm spread across his chest and his groin, stifling the animalistic noise fighting through. Approaching you, he pushed the hair from your face, feeling the intensity of your fever on his shaking palms.

His scent made you stir, squeaking as your body searched for the touch with the twist of your neck. He trailed his finger down the bridge of your nose, noting the small pores he had never been able to see before, trailing to your cupid's bow. 

Your eyes fluttered open as he knelt beside you, cupping your cheek gently as if you were fine china. Your pupils were dilated, practically encompassing your whole iris, and he could feel your internal heat increasing with his proximity. 

“Eddie.” You mumbled, confused if this was a cruel dream that your hormonal mind was conjuring, but he smiled, his thumb brushing past your bottom lashes. Lunging forward without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him on the bed, legs squirming with the growing discomfort between them.

As his body enveloped yours, he clenched his eyes tight, feeling the profound burst of testosterone. His stupor was interrupted when he felt a surge of wetness on his jeans, pulling away to see the slick that seeped through your thin cotton panties and to your mattress.

Wanting to avoid any embarrassment on your part, he smashed his lips to yours, keeping a steady hand on your jaw to maintain the pacing. There was no time to think about what you were doing or what your friendship would be after this, just the need to be close.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, my omega.” He puffed as you whimpered, sitting up on his knees to pull off his shirt, initially going to throw it on the floor until you snatched it to bring to your nose. He plucked it out of your grasp with a teasing smile, putting it above your head beside your white pillows.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, inching it slowly up your body, revealing the skin he had been dreaming of. Discarding the old cloth, he stared in hunger at your chest as his hands grasped the mounds of flesh upon them. Wincing at your cry from the abrupt touch, simultaneously becoming harder beneath his constricting jeans.

Managing a way to strip them, he was left in boxers that did little to conceal his arousal, yet all his attention was on the sea between your legs. The fabric was so wet, the baby pink went to a darkened tone, making him rip them off.

“Oh, this cunt is just drooling for me, isn’t it?” He chuckled, running a finger through your folds before slotting it between his lips. Gasping, you reached to grab him, which he obliged. His lips met yours like slotted puzzle pieces, shimmying off his last article of clothing.

“Alpha, please.” You mewled, eyes wide as your lips hung open as he grabbed his length. The growl that escaped was impetuous, your nipples skimming across his milky chest, his hand stopping your jaw from when you tried to look downward.

“You’re okay, omega- Shh, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” He says softly, thumb stroking across your scorching skin, applying slight pressure.

He had always been well endowed, but after his presentation, things became more intense, especially when he was aroused. Eddie thought the idea that alpha’s couldn’t be with beta’s because it was dangerous was just dramatics, but when he came to full hardness with his knot in place, it made sense.

The last thing he wanted was for you to see him below right now, knowing your brain was already scattered and that he didn’t want to scare you. As an omega, your body was made for this, it was begging for it. It just took a little getting used to. 

His tip had barely probed your walls before you winced, clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline. Though he knew you were in slight discomfort, something brought him amenity knowing he was going to help you feel much better.

Protruding further in, he slowly rocked his hips back and forth, pressing wet kisses to your skin and savoring the essence coming from it. He thought he could become high on you alone as you basked in his own scent, feeling as if it coated you from head to toe. 

“Feelin’ okay?” Eddie mustered, jolting his head back slightly when you started nodding profusely, making him chuckle and go deeper.

“You f-feel so good, so so good. Y-your cock,” You cried out, the tears tumbling down with mixed moans, “You’re so pretty and so n-nice to me, s-so nice even when you don’t-t have to be, which is so nice of y-you.” 

“Baby,” Eddie’s chest constricts and he smiles down to continue, only realizing he had inched his way fully inside when his balls bounced against the swell of your ass. A loud moan that vibrates within his chest comes out, making you grip to him more securely. 

“S-so big and full, so full, I don’t want you to leave, please.” You whimpered, hand reaching to feel his hair, “You m-mean so much to me a-and I l-love you. Thank you, thank you.”

“Sweetheart, shh, it’s okay.” He coos with a huge grin, almost laughing with how precious you are to him right now, “I love you too, I’m not going anywhere.” 

The first orgasm you experience hits you like a sucker punch, his words of affirmation being the final straw, shaking like a leaf against his firm chest. Your mind goes blank as you let out a string of noises, feeling the way he feels inside you in such intense detail. Your eyes reopened as you whined at the pain still persisting, which Eddie was mere moments away from solving.

He never thought he’d be able to see you like this, not even as an omega, just in general. Your iris’ so wide, he could see his reflection down to the small lines next to his lips. It felt so natural to be inside you, to be protecting you and fulfilling your needs. The thought that Jason Carver almost made it here made his blood boil, thrusting sharply out of instinct, before focusing on you.

“Want you cum, Eddie, want your cum, alpha. Please, please, please! I’ll be good and do whatever you say, you can do whatever you want to me, just, please!” You cried out, sending Eddie to his final straw, his knot snapping loose with a potent moan. 

Sublime existed within you, he thought, his mind going completely blank as he pumped you full of his release. Your sobs had turned into subdued mewls as your body felt relaxed for the first time in days, clutching to Eddie with your face in his neck.

Groaning like an old man, he managed to roll onto his back with you still attached and startled by the movement. “It’s okay, just get comfortable, sweetheart.” He murmured, yanking your blue quilted blanket over the both of you despite the sweat, already expecting your come down to be reasonably harsh.

To say Eddie wasn’t the best student was valid, but he did pay attention in health class, learning the dynamics of alphas, omegas, and betas. There was something so intriguing about it to him, thinking it was intricate enough to be a part of Dungeons and Dragons, when a brave warrior saves a helpless civilian. 

Even back in the freezing classroom, he felt his heart clench at the explanation of omegas while some tried to joke about it and laugh. Describing the genuine distraught they endure if they’re without a caretaker, a toy being a last resort because of how much emotional support they would need afterwards. 

Alpha’s could get away with going solo, a bit pent up and lonely, but nothing like omega’s who became practically helpless. For an auxiliary learning experience, they played a video of a female omega in heat for the room for pre-presenting 18 year old boys. There wasn’t any sex, but it was how emotional she became after just a few minutes, only finding peace when a man came in and picked her up, her alpha. They played one of an alpha, but the pretense didn’t last nearly as long as he could smell out his omega in the room from the start.

The worry that you had been in here for two days plagued him as you took deep breaths on his chest, his knot gradually diminishing. He squeezed you tighter unintentionally, angry that he didn’t know sooner, that he didn’t realize it or that no one told him. 

“Look at me.” He stated, a bit too sharp than intended, your obedience falling into place as your chin rested against his chest. Your cheeks were still wet, sniffling as the aftermath endured, looking with distressed eyes.

“Don’t wait to call me, okay? It doesn’t matter if you’re embarrassed. You could’ve hurt yourself.” He exaggerated, regretting his tone as soon as your lip began to wobble, “Hey, sweetheart, hey. It’s okay, I’m not mad, I just don’t want you to be in pain, okay?”

You nodded as he rearranged you both, his length slipping out, much to your dismay. But the need to nest festered within seconds as he went to go get you both drinks and snacks, grabbing his shirt and flannel. Even his jeans joined the pile as it surrounded you, nuzzling into the cotton of his top, toes flexing in delight. 

He entered with some water, granola bars and bananas, somehow remembering they were a positive supplement for after a heat even though he forgets his own house number sometimes. Chuckling at the sight, he sat against the headboard as you shuffled into his side, curling up. Holding the cup to your lips, he swiped the spare stream that dripped down your tongue before drinking some himself.

Handing you a piece of the fruit, he opened his snack, but kept his attention on you as you looked downward. His fingers found the loose strands of hair by your ear, stroking them rhythmically as you finished and handed him the peel. You both sat contently as the wrapper and peel were thrown into the bin, but he could feel the slump of your frame, assuming you hadn’t got much rest the past few days. 

“Go to sleep, omega, I’ll be here. You’re safe.” He assured, scooting farther down so you were both lying on your backs, wrapping his arms around you. 

The sleep was like no other before, instantly submerged into tranquility of varying levels, Eddie being exhausted and waiting till you were out to fall. While you slept, your body still buzzed with nerves, still coming to terms with the new elements surfacing. 

Stirring awake in the dark room, you rubbed your eyes and smelled the pheromones exuding from Eddie’s sleeping body that you could now process. The discomfort between your legs surged with wetness, worried you would wake him and he would be displeased at how early it was. The red clock blinked at 5:43am, the sun wasn’t even beginning to show.

Mistakenly peering down at his boxers, your mouth watered at his bulge, feeling an encompassing need to see it. You wanted to press kisses all over him, around the coarse hairs below his belly and sucking on his tip to taste his arousal.

Eddie woke up to quiet fussing, feeling you twist against his chest and look up at him, shocked to see his eyes opened. He could see the guilt right on your face, to which he silently shook his head with a smile, stroking your head. 

“Alpha, ‘m sorry, I need your c-cock, please.” You begged, wiggling down to his waistband, pulling out his half hardened length, “S-so big.”

He knew he only had a few minutes before you wouldn’t be able to have him in your mouth anymore, becoming too thick for your throat, so he let you indulge in this. You wanted this, he could see the drool dripping down his shaft as you sucked him, but he also knew this wasn’t going to do anything for you emotionally.

“My pretty, sweet, omega.” His voice coaxed in a morning gruff, “Can have this for just a minute, okay? Did so good yesterday, so proud of you.” 

He saw your eyes haze over, eyelids drooping as you hummed around him, his hips resisting the instinct to snap forward. Your repeated suckle made him thicker, unbeknownst to you as the action only soothed you, ignoring the growing pain between your legs.

His hand intertwined with yours as he looked out the slit of the curtains of the window, the orange rays of the sun just cresting the Earth. Something about waking up before sunrise felt forbidden, like the world wasn’t awake yet, that this was stolen time. Time where only you and him existed.

The ache of his knot began to form as he reached down to pull you up, only to hear a yelp. He flinched, looking down to see your wide eyes with his dick between your lips. He forced his growl down to not give you mixed messages, only raising his brows and curling his finger up to him. 

When you failed to do so, he lifted you despite your begs, laying you down and hovering over. He hushed you, feeling himself throb against your pretty thighs, ones he definitely wanted to explore more when you weren’t as sensitive. If he were to love on them now, he thinks it’d feel more cruel to you than anything.

You wiggled beneath him, faint pleads escaping your lips as his scent covered you, not being able to comprehend all the feelings that swarmed you. Eddie managed to throw off his boxers, caging you in beneath him as his necklace trickled on your sternum. One of his arms went downward, grabbing the base of himself and giving a few tugs.

“I know what you need, omega.” He gritted, his tip sliding between your silk-like folds with ease, making him shudder. Somehow this managed to calm you down slightly, knowing he knew what to do, even just based on pure instincts.

Slotting inside you, he shut his eyes and moaned, your wetness helping to aid the size of himself. Your moans may have been considered singing if anyone heard the way they flowed together and he wondered if it just sounded that way as your alpha. 

“Alpha, please, need your knot. Need so many.” You begged, breaths shallow as your body began to shake, already succumbing to your first orgasm. He couldn’t help, but chuckle at you, nuzzled into the crevice of your neck as he kissed the skin softly.

“My sensitive girl.” He mused, pressing himself further to rub at your clit, making you jolt. His speed increased as he felt himself growing impatient. He could last longer than this, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to try and prolong it, especially when it helped make you feel safe.

“I’ve got a rule, omega,” Eddie began, your eyes wide like saucers as you looked up, “You have to come twice every time I knot, okay?”

Your petulant whine sounded through the room before he hushed you with his own lips, his hand going between your legs to rub at the bud of nerves. Your legs shook profusely against his hips, not expecting the added pleasure that left you speechless. 

“Come with me, baby. Gonna fill you up, give you my knot.” He growled, gripping onto the headboard to thrust faster than before, “Fuck, need to fill you up. My omega.” He watched as your tits bounced in rhythm, your orgasm sneaking up on you.

His knot shot into you with velocity, covering your walls completely as you mewled, coming for a second time as your back arched. Eddie thought he almost dented the metal headboard, his hands a mix of red and white as he let go, twitching from the intensity his body was encountering.

Peering down, he saw your eyes shut, mouth opened as you caught your breath with just the tip of your tongue poking out down the middle. He smiled, pushing the hair from your face and kissing you. His knot was still throbbing as it deposited completely within you, hoping he’d be able to keep doing this. Now more prepared for when he rolled onto his back, you just adjusted to be comfortable, hoping he wouldn’t get soft too fast and you could continue this close.

The first presentation was usually a false heat, it has all the same symptoms, but there is little chance of pregnancy. It was one of the reasons he wasn’t too paranoid about giving you his knot, since that is what sedates omegas, but he didn’t want to be too risky. His heart bursted as you settled in his arms, wondering what would happen after your heat was over, trying to assure himself you wanted him. You whined for him and he wasn’t going to let that go.

The next few days consisted of waking up, having sex, Eddie cooking for you, and naps. It was like a slice of heaven in four walls, embracing the affection you were both giving each other. 

He had gone back home once to grab clothes, cigarettes, and some notebooks to work on his campaign and music. He had given Wayne a call the first day, saying he was out for the night, but would be back home soon. He hung up before he could hear the response, but knew he’d have to face his uncle eventually. They were close, practically father and son, but they weren’t open in that nature.

He pulled up to the trailer, seeing the familiar truck in the dirt in front, taking a deep breath before stepping on the damp ground. Opening the door gently, he spotted his uncle asleep on the recliner as the news played softly on the TV. Going straight for his bedroom, he shoved as much as he could in his duffle bag.

Truthfully, he was missing you more than he wanted to admit. It was only minutes, yet, he felt a pain in his chest that you were alone. He did wait for you to fall asleep as you tried to act okay with him departing for an hour, untangling your arms and legs from one another. 

How he managed to quickly pack his bag with minimal noise was a mystery, but he was grateful, hoping to utilize whatever freetime he had with writing or planning. He even brought some extra shirts for your nest as those were your favorite and his jeans kept rubbing weirdly against your cheeks. Racing to the front door, he had almost escaped as his grasp reached the handle.

“Where were you at and why aren’t you in school, boy?” Wayne grumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes as he laid back. Something about his demeanor could make him seem laid back, but he meant business when it came to Eddie’s future and he didn’t want to add another senior year.

“It’s excused.” Eddie responded cooly, mentioning quickly that he stayed at your home, leaning against the door and rocking on his heels. His nonchalant attitude made the older Munson open his eyes, looking with a squint as he adjusted to the light and to whatever game he thought his nephew was playing at.

Awaiting the explanation, Eddie imagined the ground swallowing him whole, teleporting him back to your cute bedroom with frills and stuffed animals. But no, he was standing in front of his uncle, who was in no mood for shenanigans after an exhausting shift. 

“She presented. The school excuses both, uh, parties.” Eddie mumbled, the rubber of his shoes touching as he looked down at them, not seeing the way the man in front of him straightened up. 

Humming in response, Wayne sat in thought as the boy refused to make eye contact, unsure as to what his reaction would be. How does one react to something like this?

“Takin’ care of her? She’s a sweet girl, always liked her.” Wayne mused, making their eyes finally meet. While the question could’ve been interpreted in a more vulgar way, he knew what he meant. Meant that he was actually taking care of you as an alpha should, not just to get laid.

“She is and yeah. Feeling better now, didn’t get help till two days after. She asked for me.” He trails his words with pink cheeks, kicking himself for saying too much, but Wayne gives a small chuckle. Not at what he said, but at how much Eddie’s demeanor reminded him of when he was young.

“Alright, alright. Standin’ here looking like a prisoner, go.” He laughed, not really needing any other information as Eddie left within a blink. 

The drive back to your house was tortuous, practically smelling you on his clothes in a way that became addicting. With little shame, he inhaled in his shirt deeply while at a red light, the car behind him eventually honking to send him forward.

It was crazy to him that yesterday morning felt so long ago now, that the conversation with Nancy and Robin wasn’t even 24 hours ago. He knows news is never expected fully, but this took him by surprise and made him feel less guilty about getting off to the thought of you during his rut. 

He wondered if that’s why you popped in his head no matter how many times he tried to distract himself, your pretty face dewy as he fucked into you at a, seemingly, unforgiving pace. His hands all over your body and you reacted instinctively to them before he filled you to the brim with his knot.

The thoughts ran through his brain until he pulled in your driveway, grabbing his bag and the spare set of keys that used to reside behind the large flower pot. The muffled sounds of music could be heard from your boombox as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. Jumping over steps until slipping on the edge, he caught himself by the rail, puffing with annoyance.

A whine rang through his ear like church bells, adding to the ache between his legs that he hadn’t noticed before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you immediately lit up at his presence, holding open your arms. Plopping down the bag, he dramatically raced towards you while crouching and swooped you into his arms with a laugh.

Litters of kisses were left on both sets of skin, feeling an overcast of warmth as you returned to each other. He only pulled away to drag his bag closer, rummaging through it before lifting up an old Hawkins crewneck sweater, slipping it on you over your large shirt. You practically melted at the way his scent took you, shrinking your head, arms and legs until you were in a tight ball within it. 

“Glad you like it, baby.” He chuckled, kissing the patch of your hair that peeked through as he unloaded some of his clothes. It was almost comical how little articles he brought, knowing that most of their days would not involve clothing at all or would only be on long enough to be taken off. 

Putting it in a neat pile by your dresser, he dug in his bag to see the condoms made specifically for alpha’s, dreading the fact he would need to wear them soon. He decided to keep it hidden, not wanting to upset you when you weren’t using them yet. He could hear the soft snoring from the tucked away ball on its side, biting back a large grin.

Shimmying off his clothing besides his royal blue briefs, he molded himself around your frame and lifted the blankets over top. He felt your arms wiggling before a practically inaudible whimper as it dawned on him that you couldn’t feel the arm holes in your slumber.

“Goofball.” He mutters to himself, unable to help the smile and pink cheeks as he uncurls you to bring to his chest. Your lips puckered briefly against his peck, the subconscious kiss making him want to squeeze you in joy. He liked existing inside these four walls with you.

taglist plus friends :) : @steeldaisies @meaganjm @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyyy @strawwberrry @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession  @imagine-all-the-imagines @fangirl-hoe @deementedforeverr @hellfire-in-hawkins @indouloureux @andvys @lilacletter @prettyboyeddiemunson

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

Had enough items to speedrun and read both parts to Silvio's, then found more items and was able to read the sweet end for both Clavis & Jin.... aw hell yeah, triple epilogues baby 👀

I still feel very torn about how they're running things lately though, Ikepri is starting to feel much more cash cow-y with the high point requirements, the premium ends requiring BOTH readthroughs, and no more bday stories but instead grinding through events... love the characters & the storylines but like.. damn. i'm getting genshin ptsd ngl💀

[honeyshiddendesire]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Law x Female Reader

Warnings: MINORS BEGONE! 18+! Spit kink, voice kink, Rough oral! deep throat/gagging, Dick riding, dirty talk, teasing/degradation (naughty girl, bad girl, cry baby), Dacryphilia (love for crying) vaginal penetration! you're his medicine !

Summary: Being a captain can be tough but with you around you always seemed to make things better.

*banner*

“Fuck.” Law grunts as he tugs you harder onto his cock, your body tucked under his desk with his head thrown back. His slender fingers tangled in your hair keeping you in place as he thrusts into your throat making you choke and cry. Tears streaming down your pretty face that he loves so much, “Stop being a cry baby I know you can -ah- take it.” Law's usually smooth voice is raspy with lust and stress that he wanted to release down your throat.

“Always being a bad girl when I tell you not to be.” He gets so mouthy whenever he's stressed and you love it, using your throat as a cock sleeve. Loving the sounds of your choked groans and moans sending vibrations around his long cock. The tip poking the back of your throat with every deep thrust of his hips, “Ugh~fuck~ that's it my slutty thing.” Law grunts as he looks down at your wrecked expression, drool running down your chin to drop in your exposed breast. 

Your nails dug into his thighs as you squirmed trying to create friction on your pussy but it was no use. The force of his cock in your mouth made you choke but he held you still loving every sound you made. “Fuck!”

Your eyes looked up into his with a needy expression that made him grunt, pulling you off his cock with a ‘pop’ sound. Your chest heaving as you stare up at him and he takes his cock in his hands tapping your lips with the tip. “Naughty girl, look at you so messy.” 

“Come here.” Law whispers softly patting his thigh, his thumb rubbing your chin as he licks his lips. 

You stand up slowly and climb on top of his lap, your hand going to spread your pussy open for him to watch. Law eyes paying attention to your every move with intense lust and hunger, his hands going to touch all over your body. Your thighs up to your waist then to your tits squeezing them roughly making you whine as you slowly lower yourself down on his cock. It was long and curved just right, hitting every spot that you needed it too. 

“Fuck~” Law’s moan was long and drawn out when you finally sat all the way down on his twitching cock. Head being thrown back to thud against his desk chair, eyes closing for a second as he moves his slender fingers back down to grip your thighs. 

You couldn't help but whine as you held onto his shoulders, bouncing yourself on his cock roughly just how he needed it. Taking his pleasure in your hands watching as his brows knit together with every bounce and drop you made. Circling your hips and moaning as you feel every inch of him. Eyes rolling back as he held your thighs tightly, hips rocking up into your cunt at a rough pace. His hands that you love so much pulling you down harder with each pump of his hips. 

“O-oh Law~!” You moan out loudly as your body bounces, tits moving with each thrust for his eyes to see. His jaw was tense as he watched, grunts and groans leaving him and tangling with your loud cries. The feeling of your wet walls soaking him was breaking every fiber in his being. 

You were the perfect medicine whenever he needed it and no matter his skills as a doctor you always knew what dose to deliver. You lean forward kissing all over his tense jaw, nipping and sucking marks at his neck, grinding down into his throbbing cock. His talented tattooed fingers finding your clit to rub vigorously making you whine just how he needed to hear.

 The walls were thin on the Polar Tang but the life of a captain can be so selfless and stressful but dammit sometimes he needed to be a bit selfish. He'd probably beat himself later out of embarrassment but right now he just needed you to cum on his cock. 

“Law baby please~ please cum in me.” You plead as you feel yourself gush on his cock, the mix of his thrusts and fingers rubbing your clit were all too much. You moan as you feel him fuck ropes of his seed into your pussy with a drawn out curse. His other hand pulling you down for a deep kiss as he gives a couple more thrusts riding out both of your highs. 

“You know I love you right?” He finally whispers after you both calm down and you just smile at him. Pressing yourself into his chest you kissed all over his face with a smile, “Of course you love me captain I'm your little stress relief.” You wink as a joke making his face heat up as he rolled his eyes mumbling shyly, "Be quiet will you Y/N-ya."

[cryptidcasanova]

The Depths You’ll Go

Namor x Reader

This is a big ol’ fever dream. It’s been a while since I felt this way about a Marvel character.

Summary: The price of protecting a an advanced civilization from the rest of the world is high, but the rewards? Priceless.

Warnings: 18+ Content. Angst, cannon level violence, mutual pining. Namor is overwhelmingly protective. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

Words: 2.5k

Dividers by the stunning @firefly-graphics​.

You had to keep moving.

You were close to the water; you could feel it deep in your bones.

The little boy in your arms must have felt the saltwater lingering in the air. He was frantic, twisting in your hold as you rushed through the corridor. 

His blue skin was pale, and he was trying to breathe in the air you knew wouldn't sustain him.

"Just a little longer," You cradled him close, whispering reassurances in his hair. "I'm getting you out of here."

But you were biting back tears.

You never expected to be followed home by the young Talokan boy. He was so little and curious and full of love. He had hardly left your side while you watched Namor teach a sparring session. How he trained, moved, and spoke with his people made your heart swell.

And you didn't expect the raid on your home soon after you returned to the beach. You didn't stand a chance against the swat team busting down your door. The boy was the most important thing. You weren't going to let anything happen to him.

Shuri warned you to be careful. The agencies have kept an eye on you since you left Wakanda.

It was everything Namor feared. All he wanted to do was protect his people; you were the reason they were in danger.

Oh, Namor.

Your stomach ached. You wanted to scream and call out for help, but the best thing you could do was sneak around the guards and get the boy back to the water. The boy. The adored one.

Taavi.

You treasured him more than you thought possible. He was strong and curious in the water but bashful and wide-eyed above ground.

Dark hair fell against his cheeks, and his eyes drooped as you turned a corner. You cradled him close.

But you were running out of time.

And then, when you finally kicked open the metal door at the end of the hall, you cried out with joy.

You were close to the water. Closer than you thought. 

It was a sheer drop from the cliffside base into the Atlantic, and it was only then you heard the clinking of footsteps not far behind you. The guards found you.

The boy pushed out of your arms just in time and dove into the brink as the guards pulled you back. You should have jumped. And then you watched the little boy poking his head out of the water and staring up at you with a fearful expression. He didn't know what was happening. 

You cried out when the guards pointed their guns at the top of the water.

"Taavi, go. Get out of here!"

You were wrestled back into the base, frantically throwing your body toward the water. You weren't even sure if you could make the dive. But before you could slip out of their grip, something hit you hard in the back of your head.

And everything went dark.

Your cell turned into an interrogation room. 

The soldiers wanted to know about the little blue boy, that thing. They didn’t even treat him like a child, but an experiment. They wanted to know what was in the water. About the vibranium. 

Interrogation turned from fear tactics to torture. And you were no soldier.

You were trained in the sciences, to know biology, to understand life and nature. That's why Banner recommended you go to Wakanda in the first place.

And with Talokan? You still had so much to learn. Their livelihoods and families were on the line. Hundreds of years of culture were preserved. 

And you cared about them.

You weren't going to betray their trust. That is, if Namor didn't think you already had.

His fatalist streak made you fear the worst. He was fiercely protective of his people, and the way he was around the children? Patient and compassionate. Taavi's disappearance must have caused an uproar.

You hoped he would be merciful.

Time passed. Days passed.

You thought you would rot in that jail cell, battered and bruised, until you just drifted away one day. That they'd forget about you until it was too late. Until you were lost to the wind.

And one day, the guards were given new orders.

They all knew something was in the water. But didn't know what to look for, and they never did catch that little boy. 

If he could make his way out of their surveyed waters, the people in power were convinced something could find its way back in.

All they needed was some new bait. 

There must have been a reason why the boy was with you. You were their best bet for finding out why.

The soldiers changed. At first, it was the Americans, then the French, and the Germans, and then you couldn't tell after a while. 

The thought of all the surface countries working together made your head spin.

They waited until the tide was at its lowest. That's when they drug you out of the cell by your arms, until you were too tired to fight back. 

You were too tired to think. It felt hopeless. You were taken to a different side of the base, where paths of rocks were cut out down to the water.

And then you saw the chains. 

The guards attached arm restraints to the rocky walls, where the water kissed the land. One look at the guards was all it took, and then you knew. They wanted their intel. 

They wanted to know about Talokan, and they weren't above drowning a scientist to get it.

"Last chance, sweetheart," One of the men said, all dressed up to fight off the chill in the air. He was different from the others; you'd never seen him before. He must have been the man in charge.

Your stomach roiled in frustration.

He sauntered up to you, pulling your chin up with a firm grip. You hated his clever expression and bad breath.

"We just want to know about your little blue friend," He tormented, looking out to the water. "It's a little cold for a swim, don't you think?"

Your chest ached. But you had come so far; you couldn't hand them over. Namor would never give up like this.

You choked on a cry before taking a breath of sea air.

"He's in New York.”

The man turned around. You caught his attention.

"Come again?" He smirked, urging you to continue. The others were looking now, waiting for an answer.

"New York," You repeated tiredly. "But he turns green once in a while, not blue. Maybe you should get your eyes checked-"

You were kicked down to your knees without compunction.

"You think you're real funny, eh?” He scoffed. “String her up."

Your fate was sealed. You were gagged and bound like a worm on a hook and couldn't go crying out for help. 

And then they dragged you into the water.

The cold plunge made your teeth chatter, but there was no time to consider it. Your arms were strung against the rocky walls on either side of your shoulders. Your legs were bound and weighed down. The saltwater only came up to your waist, but you knew it wouldn't last. 

You rested your head against the wall in defeat.

And at last, you understood Namor's resentment. It pierced through years of you trying to help people and fight for the right causes. 

At the end of the day, people in power wanted to keep their knowledge, power, and strengths. They wanted it all for themselves.

The water spray against the rocks gave you an excuse to cry, to mourn the life you couldn't live. 

You should have told Namor the truth. You stayed in Talokan to learn, but it was more than that. As time went on, your trips into the sea lost focus. You were enamored by the Talokan people and how their lives were completely untouched by the outside world. 

They were considerate and humble. They cared for one another.

Namor cared for them, for all of them. His icy demeanor was an act. He could talk strategy with his advisors and turn around to celebrate a new baby in their city. He could help by collecting food and scouting the perimeter of their sanctuary. It was no wonder why people worshipped him. 

And his animosity towards outsiders didn't touch you. As much as he resented the world above, it was as though he wanted to show just how far they had come. They were a prosperous and independent nation. Completely indigenous. It was breathtaking.

It was hard not to swoon over him. You should have told Namor how you felt sooner.

Shuri could see it. M'Baku could see it. Hell, you were sure Namora could tell how you felt for their leader. But you could keep them safe. 

They were the best warriors you had ever seen, and now it was your turn to protect them.

When the water cupped around your shoulders, you were pulled away from your thoughts. It was much colder than you thought. Your arms were shaking, and your fingers were numb. 

The water was ruthless against the scrapes and cuts along your body. The weight was doing its job. It was keeping you from being buoyant. You swore you could feel something against your legs and panicked, pulling yourself up as best you could.

But the next wave came at you fast, making you choke on the gag in your mouth. You were running out of time.

The soldiers were looking out over the water with their guns ready, waiting for the call. 

They were waiting to find something in the water. But the night was quiet.

In the last attempt to rectify yourself, you begged for his forgiveness. Namor let you into his home and world, and you almost ruined it. Your heart was hammering as the wave receded, and your pleas were lost behind your water-soaked gag.

You'd never see him again. You'd never hear the low timber of his words or see the passion in his eyes. Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Your heart was breaking and you couldn't stop it. 

K’uk’ulkan

The water was rising, but all you could see was his profile. You could remember the curve of his nose and how his eyebrows moved when he told a story.

K’uk’ulkan

Another wave hit hard, and you choked on the icy water. But you could still see Namor guiding you through his sanctuary, pointing to the paintings on the walls.

K’uk’ulkan

The next wave didn't recede as far as you hoped. Another wave struck you, but you could still see him. You could smell the salt on his skin and hear how his necklaces moved when he walked. You could almost hear his voice. 

He was - the bubble burst.

You couldn't breathe. 

Your body was on auto pilot, thrashing and kicking wildly. Your body was fighting off the water that burned in your chest. It surrounded you in a coccon, murky and frothing against the rocks. 

But you weren't as alone as you thought.

You couldn't feel the little grouping of octopuses at your feet trying to find a way to undo your chains.

You couldn't hear the soft singing above the water, urging soldiers into the brine.

And Namor - you couldn't see the carnage. 

You couldn't see the rage and anguish on his face as he barreled through the base. Their water explosives shook the ground. You couldn't have known he was scouring the ocean for you.

Taavi made it home because of you. 

You protected the little boy like he was your own, no matter the cost, and Namor couldn't see past it. You put your life on the line for them. It was his turn to serve you. 

His chest ached with some long-lost realization, something he never dared to put into words but was forced to face. His heart beat a little faster when you were around. His focus swayed. He cared about you most ardently.

You were his to protect.

After all the time he had to dance around it, humbly flaunting his world to an outsider, Namor finally understood. The moment he let you see his world, he knew; he would protect you. 

The way he flew into the water and pulled the chains away from the rock was terrifying. 

His blood boiled as your hands fell limp into the water. He tugged the gag away from your face and cradled you above the water’s surface. 

But you weren't breathing. 

There was too much water in your lungs. Your heartbeat was faint, straining against your ribcage. 

In a moment of hesitation, Namor pulled you from the water and up the rocky shore. The singing stopped. The chaos stopped. 

And all eyes were on K'uk'ulkan. 

The sea was claiming you for itself, but Namor wasn't going to give you up so easily. His expression welled with power, even when his jaw locked with uncertainty. 

He needed to get the water out of your lungs. You needed air. 

His hand spread over your heart before pressing down, the ridges of his palm digging into your skin. A command left his lips that was sharper than any blade. 

"You cannot have her."

He began chanting in his native tongue, commanding the seas. 

"Her heart beats for my people. It beats for me," He realized. "You cannot have her."

A rush of wind swept through the sky. And the sea, fearful of his wrath, receded from the shore. 

His other hand cupped your face, leaning in with intention. He had never been so close, but it made perfect sense now. It felt important, felt right.

There was another way. 

His eyes lit up. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was met with lifetimes of bottled-up affection. Slow and intentional, he poured out his power. It was his breath, a kiss from a god. 

The unspoken command broke the spell. 

When Namor pulled back, your body lurched up with a frightful cough. 

The sting of saltwater burned in your throat. Your hands were clammy, reaching out to hold on tight. Your chest ached, and your eyes burned as you tried to move. It was disorienting. 

And then you heard it; the lull of your voice being called out, followed by a string of native words you couldn't understand.

Then you felt it; a strong hand covering yours, warmer and firmer than your own. He wasn't going to let you go.

And you saw it, saw him. Namor looked down at you like you could have hung all the stars in the sky. He was careful, like you could break under his stare. 

But he brushed the tears out of your eyes. You didn't even realize you were crying.

Namor. 

He had more love in his heart than anyone gave him credit for. He deserved the world. 

And when he pulled you up into his arms, you held on tight. 

Namor wanted to burn the world down. He wanted to fight, but for a moment it was stolen by the way you called his name. It was the sweetest sound he ever heard.

He wasn't going to let anything else happen to you. Because while your heart beat for his people, his heart was beating for you.

[pseudowho]

The Stairwell

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

A "fuck around and find out" incident with Higuruma Hiromi, as you tease him relentlessly during the workday.

Warnings: No surprises to spoil, but 18+, MDNI as always

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It's early in the afternoon when you decide to send Higuruma a dirty text while in the office together. Your co-workers and clients rattle around you. Papers rustle, printers whirr, and you know Hiromi is working to a deadline.

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You'd been deliberately teasing him since you woke up. You had set the alarm clock just a little too late. You stretched languidly against him in bed, pressing yourself back against his crotch, faux-innocent, before jumping from bed as his hands began to ghost over your hips. You kept the bathroom door open while you showered in a hurry, the soap suds in turn clouding and unclouding your nipples as they rolled down over your curves. Hiromi passed you your coffee; you received it, grateful, in his favourite lingerie set. You kissed him just a bit too softly behind the ear, a thrill running through you as he whimpered, hooded eyes fluttering closed as he leaned back into your lips.

"We're late! Come on, Hiro," you called, padding to the door, pulling your heels on, satisfied as Hiromi grabbed the car keys (tie a little wonky, shirt tucked poorly, cheeks pink, shoulders tense-- check, check, check, check).

His hands were white-knuckled as he drove, heavy brows furrowed; you thanked him for driving, with a hand on his thigh, a kiss on his jaw. You got out; Hiromi took a moment to press his forehead against the steering wheel, and readjust his rigid cock against his thigh with a low groan.

Hiromi sat in his office now, thoroughly ruffled. You watched him through the glass walls, the pen behind his ear being taken off and repeatedly clicked as he tried to focus on case notes. You pulled out your phone, thought for a moment with fingers hovering over the screen, and typed. Done. Sent.

Hiromi glanced to his phone as it buzzed on the desk. You watched as he picked it up, and read it. His eyebrows shot up, mouth dropping open, and his hands fumbled, dropping the phone like a hot coal. You ducked down behind the clouded partition, as he leapt to his feet, staring, furiously blushing as he searched for you. He smiled apologetically to a passing secretary who jumped in alarm at his predatory manner.

You laughed to yourself, giggling and wiping tears from your eyes, co-workers giving you funny looks as you crouch-walked away behind the partition. You spent the rest of the afternoon grinning to yourself, knowing Hiromi was too busy to visit you.

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Meet you at the car.

You texted Hiromi as soon as the clock struck six, grabbing your things and scooting down the corridor. Your co-workers packed up around you, chatting weekend plans, lingering, anyone want to go for drinks?

As you approached the door to the stairwell, you felt eyes burn through the back of your head, prickles rising on the back of your neck as the presence got closer and closer footsteps pounding as your hand pulled the door open slipping through the narrow gap which was gripped by a bigger, longer hand and you were followed through by Hiromi, who loomed over you, hot eyes hungry, moving to block your exit.

You squeaked and giggled, ducking under his arms as he tried to lift you by the waist, and ran down the stairs two at a time, laughing as he spat obscenities and chased you. You made it down two flights of stairs before he caught up to you, your heart pounding.

You were spun, lifted and pressed against the wall and you wrapped your legs around Hiromi's waist and hips. One of Hiromi's hand cupped your arse, the other wiggled a finger into his tie as his teeth gritted into a snarl.

"You, you, are an absolutely filthy little tart," Hiromi bit, jacking your skirt up around your waist, and yanking your damp panties to the side to rub two desperate fingers between your folds. The sudden intrusion had you squealing again, and you lied instantly to Hiromi-- "I didn't mean to--"

"I didn't mean to--" Hiromi mocked in a high-pitched trill, before slapping an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, "--bullshit, my dear, utter bullshit." Two long fingers pressed into your pussy and you pressed back into the wall with a long moan, letting Hiromi work inside you, humming to himself in thought.

"Hiromi-- people will see--" Hiromi scoffed at you, pulling his fingers free from your pussy, unzipping himself and hooking his heavy, weeping cock out, lining himself up immediately.

"Nobody here uses the fucking stairs--" Hiromi spat, wiping your arousal on himself as lubrication. He grinned at you, a wicked glint in his eyes, as you whined and moaned at his cockhead stroking over your clit. He pressed a long, deep kiss into you as he teased himself against your entrance.

"Let's consider all of your flirting today to be foreplay, hmm?" You opened your mouth to protest, before Hiromi slammed his cock into you, slapping a hand over your mouth as you shrieked, Hiromi laughing under his breath, drawing out into a keening whimper as he pulled out and pressed into your fluttering plush walls again.

Hiromi hooked his arms under your thighs, planting his feet hard against the floor as you went floppy, hands clawing at Hiromi's tie and shirt as he paused for a moment, adjusting before beginning a relentless slap of his hips against yours.

Hiromi's head dropped back with a sandy gasp as he fucked you deeply, his cock ramming against your cervix, wet squelches and Hiromi's frantic moans echoing around the stairwell while you babbled apologies to him. Hiromi laughed again, lost in the filthy, sinful relief of your wet heat.

"Oooh, I'm sorry I'm sorry--" Hiromi hooted to you, as you blushed at his ceaseless good-humoured mocking, "--tell it to the judge." Hiromi's chuckles tapered swiftly into hurried moans and whimpers again, feeling your pussy clench around him as your eyes rolled back at the incessant slam of his cock into you. You felt his pre-cum and yours trickling down your arse as he gripped your thighs with bruising force, his face contorted in divine bliss as he chased his orgasm.

You were limp in his grasp, one arm draped over his shoulder and the other tugging his tie, mascara running, lipstick smeared. You hovered on the edge of an orgasm until your hips slid down, Hiromi now rutting into you at a deeper angle, his cockhead rubbing deeply, feeling him in your belly. You reached down to stroke your own clit, Hiromi drinking you in with blown-pupilled eyes as you tumbled over the edge. Hiromi felt his balls clench as you pulled his tie again, feeling the tug like a hook behind his navel.

"Thorn in my-- hhaaaaah shit-- fucking side today-- dirty little flirt-- ahhhh fuck, 'm gonna cum--" Hiromi came with a strangled whine, fucking his seed slowly into you as it spattered against your walls, so much after a day of constant teasing. Hiromi bit into your neck, with short little moans as his cock twitched weakly inside you, his last spurts of cum dripping down you to soak your panties.

As Hiromi leaned back, his smile soft and goofy at you with post-nut ecstasy, you pulled him back by the tie as he giggled, hands pit-patting fondly against your bum as he rubbed his nose against yours, foreheads pressed together, dark eyes embering into you.

You both jumped as you heard a timid little voice from the doorway two flights of stairs up.

"Uhm...are you...are you guys done? It's just...the lift's not working so we've all been, uhm...waiting here."

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Tehehe, Higuruma ♥️🤭🧎‍♀️

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY : In which you let your husband take your virginity on your wedding night.

PAIRINGS: Dilf Taehyung x virgin reader

WORD COUNT :2K

SMUT WARNINGS: Unprotected sex (off course) ,cum eating, oral f. Eating out over panties, fingering, squirting, mention of blood (her cherry popped)! Titty sucking, aftercare ladies <3

A/N: A little something as I’ve reached 1k heheh thank you so much lovelies and i hope you liked this one and thank you my love 💖 @jj-one who helped me with this one and also @kingofbodyrolls who made this sexy banner💖

The beach was filled with fragrant blooms, an array of white and pink tulips adorned the set up, a gentle breeze softly tickles the groom's hair and he smiles looking at you walking hand in hand with your father holding a small bouquet of lilies.

Your wedding veil cascades down your back, complementing the silk lace and pearls embroiled on the dress, making you feel like a fairy princess. Nervously walking down the aisle with your father you blush the moment you see your husband, soft music and doting cheers follows in the background the moment you took each step.

Soon reaching upon you face the love of your life Kim Taehyung, your dad places your hand on your husband’s and some tears brim his eyes, asking him to always protect you and keep you happy forever. He chuckling upon his request, promising to keep you happy for the rest of his life while kissing the back of your palm and whispers "you look so beautiful my love." You visibly chuckle and mutter him a small "thanks, you look handsome as well".

You never thought you would end up with your casual fling that you met from an app, remembering it was one of your friends who had signed you up on the app after you broke up with your toxic ex. On the other side, Taehyung's friend, Jungkook, had signed him up when divorced his wife, thinking it was a good idea to get out of the grief and have some fun.

Your interests he was afraid if he came clean about his son you would leave.

He was sure he had fallen in love with you over the past year from just chatting and calling each other daily. It made him feel like he was a young man again and not a 38-year-old man who had a kid who would depend on for a few more years.

Taehyung was also afraid of the 16-year-old age gap, thinking it was too soon for you to commit to a lifelong relationship which included a child.

He had enough of it when he finally decided to take you on a date and coming clean about it. He came fully prepared to tell you about his son and break this situation you were in, he liked (read: Loves) you, but he didn't want you to live with the pressure of living with a child as you were young, and you had so much to experience.

In the cozy coffee shop, soft jazz played in the background while you nervously fidget on the chair, summing up the courage to tell him that you had started liking him and can see a future together. The man in front of you gave a crooked smile, continuing to surf through the menu.

"What will you have Y/n?" Taehyung asks as he skims each and every item written on the menu, his leg bouncing under the table due to anxiety.

"I love you Taehyung," you say at the same time as he began talking, he goes blank, the menu dropping from his hands while you mentally facepalm at yourselves. "Fuck I shouldn't have dropped this bomb this early.”

"What?" Taehyung gasps and then visibly gulps, and you return a crooked smile back. "Yes tae, I love you I've been loving you for a while now.." you confess once again, and he shutters "We-ll y/n m-e too" he says as if he's exclaiming, and you smile wide.

"But wait y/n, before I properly confess I want to tell you something," Taehyung nervously adds, becoming restless. Observing his moments you grab his spare hand which rested on the table and tell him to calm down.

"Y/n, you know I’m divorced, right? But I'm sorry I have hidden something very big from you, I have a five-year-old son Yi-hyun" he says, and you gasp "Oh my god, tae why did you hide this for so long?" you question, he fiddles with his fingers and explains his insecurities and chances of you leaving him.

"No tae, I would never, in fact, I love children and I would really love to spend my whole life with you." You blush as those words come out and Taehyung giggles, "I'll be more than glad and feel honored to stay with you for the rest of my life."

Taehyung gazes into your eyes, his eyes full of love and promises, the gentle breeze makes the few whips of your flix fly, and he thinks you look so pretty, soon the calm breeze carries out your wedding vows and seals all the promises of this lifetime commitment.

Yi-hyun stands right in the middle of you and Taehyung's parents, an uproar of cheers and claps filled the atmosphere when you exchange your rings. Glancing at him, you give a flying kiss and he acts to catch it, your husband won't stop at looking you with heart eyes.

It was soon evening while you and your husband basked in the warmth of newly wed love, surrounded by all your supporting family and friends. He occasionally steals a few kisses from you when you both slow danced and enjoyed the dance until it was time to make your grand exit and walk hand in hand till you reached your car.Your parents insisted on keeping your son for a couple of days until you come back from the honeymoon.

"Yi- hyun, don't trouble your grandparents okay baby? Be a good boy for me and your mom okay?" Your husband tells your son and he nods , he kisses yours and his father's and climbs down from his grasp and tells you both a "goodbye".

"Let's go baby been waiting for this day ever since I met you, gonna fuck you hard," Taehyung says with lust-filled eyes, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He lays a few soft pecks, soliciting a gasp from you, letting out the smallest whimper of his name.

The ride to your house was short, your husband helped to get you out of the car and quickly thanked the driver, not even a minute later your back meets the door of your penthouse as your husband starts to devour your mouth with his, heavy kisses full of spit coats your lips.

You were taken aback for a few seconds until your mind processes his action, kissing your lover back with the same burning passion, you struggle a bit until you get the keys from the back pocket of Taehyung's pants.

"One Sec baby, let me just open this, and we can go inside," you say almost breathlessly in between kisses, turning around. Once inside, both you and his clothes join the ground soon. "I'll go slow baby okay? It's your first time, right? Gonna savour every last moment of this." Taehyung assures you, and you nod.

Never in your twenty-two years of living did you have sex with your boyfriend. Sex was a whole different thing you’ve yet to experience but you weren't a saint when it came to it either, the curious teen in you would look up porn and even tried masturbating before, but you just didn’t feel anything from it, you thought you were doing something wrong.

Taehyung helped you to get comfortable in the bed whilst he removes the last piece of his clothing, his boxers, while you had kept your panties on, feeling your cunt coating the plumpness of his lips with your slick. You moan at the movement as he hovers above you, "ready baby?" your husband sweetly asks, you nod and voice a simple "yes.”

Soft, gentle kisses are first felt on your neck and the light touch of his fingertips tickles your lower belly, coming dangerously close to your core. His nimble fingers nudge the bow on your lace panties, sucking in your breath when he slowly goes down to explore the rest of your body, sucking on your skin lightly as he trails his way down. Soon purple hues are decorated all over you.

Once he faces your core, his hot breath leaves you tingly inside, whimpering out his name as he slowly licks a wet strip of over the fabric of your panties and sucks on the ball of your clit, repeating his languid motion again and again, his eyes watching you above him. You’re left nothing short of a moaning mess, "fuck feels so good tae, just like that baby.." you express him how good he’s making you feel when he sucks and licks you over your panties, this new sensation was like no other.

Soon after a while he completely removes them off your body, groaning at the mess you made and his fingers rub over it so he could have some of you on his fingers. "Open baby" he affirms, you ecstatically take them in your mouth sucking off each finger one by one, he chuckles and bites back a moan. He thinks you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.

"Gonna finger you baby, stay calm okay? I promise it's gonna soon feel okay." He assures and slowly inserts one of his fingers, you moan out loud as it feels different from what you felt while playing with yourself.

One finger soon turned into two and you felt something weird coming out, "Taehyung stop-stop, something's coming out," you breathlessly warn but he tells you to go on and doesn’t stop fingering you, only upping his pace. Liquid soon gushes out, "fuck baby, pretty girl" never failing to fluster you and make you blush, shying away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

His frame hovers above yours and tells you to rest properly, "Baby, is it okay?" He asks before continuing. His hard cock brushing over your soaked pussy lips, itching to be inside your warm cunt, his fingers part your lips while you involuntarily twitch, feeling weightless as his thumb rubs gentle circles along your sensitive clit. "Ready y/n? Look we don't have to do it tonight you can always back out baby" he says while you whimper at the loss. "N-no want it so bad I can take it" you eagerly said, leaning in to kiss his lips. "It might hurt at first, but then it's going to be okay, I promise my darling." With that, he slowly aligns himself with you and enters inside, causing you to both moan in unison.

Kissing your forehead to calm you down when he sees faint tears brimming your eyes, he pulls out just enough so he can spit in between you two to make the slide much easier. He notices some blood as you were still a virgin— up until now, beads of sweat drip from the sides of him and some of it lands onto your boobs. He attached his lips to suckle them, seeing your pretty mouth open wide and decides to slip his finger in, your body rises a bit when he tells you to see the bloody mess and you whimper while he pets your head with his other hand.

"Calm down baby you’re gripping me so hard.." he groans from the way you’re sucking him up and you try your best to relax your muscles and try to enjoy this feeling while occasionally kissing him, moaning at his touches. He rests his forehead on top of yours and soon he cums inside, gasping from his overwhelming orgasm, he slowly pushes himself up and removes his now softened cock. You feel the cum dripping down to your ass. “Wait up baby, I'm gonna get something to clean you up.” He smiles dotingly and you nod back at him.

Soon he cleans you both up and brings you a glass of water to drink, he’s cuddling with you as his fingers lace with yours. Soft kisses resound the room until you both knock down in each other's embrace.

You decide to wake him up with a good, morning blow job but who knew it would be him to be waking you up instead.

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) [teaser]

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

READ FULL FIC HERE!

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (none in teaser) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT: est. 25k

WORD COUNT [teaser]: ~820

RELEASE DATE: est. october 2nd 2023

!PLEASE SEND AN ASK TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST (ageless blogs WILL NOT BE ADDED)!

masterlist

WARNINGS [!is subject to change upon publishing of the full fic!]: slowburn, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, (smut tags in the full fic)

[A/N]: I worked rlly hard on the banner pls look at it ‼️ enjoy hehe also this is probably gonna be way more than 25k but I supposed its better than overshooting

teaser under the cut!

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down. 

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention. 

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel. 

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car. 

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further. 

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns. 

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard. 

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended. 

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister. 

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.” 

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat. 

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride. 

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.” 

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”