#but going out of my way to find new things to read????? no

[absurdthirst]

Unmasking the Mand'alor {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Drinking, flirting, insults, fighting, caveman-like behavior, helmet stays on, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, clothed male/naked female, first kisses, confessions, wedding vows, loving making

Comments: You want a helmet on Mando to fuck to pretend they are the one you really want and think you can never have. Until flirting with one in front of Mando makes him react.

A/N: Canon? Who dat?

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Mandalore has changed. You glance around the bar, noting the repairs that have been done,the debris cleared out. It had once been the armory, fitting to be the social center of a society of warriors where their weapons are a part of their religion. Mandos wearing helmets are almost in equal number to those that are showing their faces, the two sects still managing to coexist peacefully - most days. The Bespin Fizz in your hand is smooth, although you really want a Fuzzy Tauntaun next time. The bartender was a Mando that still believes that Creed involves not showing his face, making him almost as attractive as one that had brought you here. 

Din strides into the bar, his hand empty of a drink but he notices how everyone looks at him. The leader of Mandalore. His visor scans the crowd until he finds you at the bar. You are the star of his dreams, every holovid porno he watches he imagines you in their place. He can’t have you though. You don’t want his baggage. Dealing with the kid, being the Mand’alore, it’s too much to handle for him and he’d be selfish to make you deal with it alongside him. He sighs and taps his gloved fingers on his thigh, watching you as you watch him walk in.

He feels your eyes on him as he makes his way through the crowd until he is pushing his way into a space beside you at the bar. He orders a drink despite knowing he won’t remove his helmet to drink it. It makes him look more approachable and he wants the others to feel like they can speak to him about their worries and concerns regarding Mandalore. He is reluctant to take up an official role, never wanting to be a leader, but he needs to position himself for covert if he is to establish the Mandalorians as a force to be reckoned with within the galaxy. “And whatever she is having.” He adds, tilting his helmet to the bartender before he looks at you.

“The Fuzzy Tauntaun this time, Josin.” You tell the blue armored bartender. You cock your eyebrow up as you turn to see your own eyes reflected back at you in the darkness of his visor. “You gonna drink with me, Mando?” You ask playfully, taking a long swallow of your Bespin. “Want a straw?”

“You know I won’t drink it. I’m just here to put in an appearance and then go back to my quarters. The kid is with the other foundlings tonight. Sleepover or something.” He says, knowing that the reason he’s come out is so he doesn’t just sit in his room thinking about you and yet here you are. “You can have my drink too.” He promises, glancing around the room again. “Are you having fun?”

“So far.” There’s the dull roar of conversations and the occasional shit talking that gets a little out of hand, but there’s not been any fights in here. “Although….” You turn and smirk at him. “You need some music in here. Liven the place up a bit.” You drain the rest of your drink and shrug. “I had fun at the cantina on Mos Eisley.”

“I’ll be sure to get that sorted. Not like I haven’t got bigger things to do.” Din rolls his eyes behind his visor even though you can’t see it. Your drinks are placed in front of you and Din immediately pulls his credits from the pouch on his belt. “On the house for our fearless leader.” Joisin says and Din can hear the grin in his voice. “Thanks.” He replies even though he knows he will leave a tip.

You smirk and give a small chuckle at his sarcasm. It had thrown you off at first, the dry wit, but now it just makes him even more attractive to you. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It honestly irritates you that Bo Katan has, and not you. Wanting to put some features to the faceless fantasies that you have. You pick up your drink and take a sip. “Oh that’s nice.” You coo, turning back to the bartender and winking at him. “Thanks babe. I’m gonna have to have another of these.”

Din is thankful for the mask as he bristles at the affection you use towards the bartender. He wants to hear you call him that. He taps his fingers on the counter, watching you take a sip of your drink. “Maker, this place has the best drinks.” You moan and Din’s cock twitches in his flight suit, unable to help himself as he wonders what you’d sound like moaning his name.

You are completely unaware of the thoughts going through Mando’s head, sipping your drink and looking around. Surrounded by walls of metal clad men, you are soaking wet because of the one standing beside you, but he doesn’t want you. You need to get laid, badly. “Who is that?” You ask, nodding towards a Mandalorian in the corner that has a green chest plate, but his helmet is pure beskar, like Mando’s.

“Throck Kac.” Din answers, his brow furrowed with a question of why you’re interested in learning that information. Throck is a strong Mandalorian, almost strong enough to challenge Din for leadership but he hasn’t. Not yet. Din is always looking over his shoulder in case anyone decides to challenge him. Not that he cares about the dark saber, he’s more concerned about being killed.

“Throck Kac.” You repeat his name and look over at him in interest. He’s obviously one that doesn’t take his helmet off, but you ask anyway. “And he’s - like you? Doesn’t show his face?” You don’t want him to remove his helmet, the face above you needs to be a visor. Especially if you are going to fuck him and imagine it’s the man beside you.

Din is confused about why you want to know that but he answers the question, “yes. He keeps his helmet on at all times.” He tilts his own helmet to look at you as you have this look in your eye when you stare at Throck.

You hum, taking another sip of your drink and the visor turns towards you. You shiver slightly and look back towards Mando. It’s not the same, but you know he won’t touch you and you want to be touched. “Good to know.” You murmur nonchalantly.

Din notices your shiver and he frowns under his mask, wondering what caused that, and he sees Throck making his way through the crowd towards you. He taps his gloved fingers on the counter as he watches the other Mandalorian make his way to you.

You see Mando bristle, stiffen slightly as he taps those orange gloved fingers on the bar and you turn to head. Seeing that Throck is coming towards you. You turn your body and take another sip of your drink.

Din can’t watch this shit. He turns his visor towards the mirror behind the bar and he watches as Throck puffs his chest under the armor and walks up to you. “What is a beautiful lady like you doing in a shit hole like this?” He asks, tilting his helmet.

The line isn’t that great, but it’s better than no line. You tilt your head coyly and grin. “Waiting for something to happen.” You admit, not noticing that Mando has turned away. You try so hard not to watch him every moment. “Why? What are you doing in a shit hole like this?”

“Waiting for something to happen.” He replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “but it looks like I’ve found what I’ve been waiting for.” He nudges a little closer, pushing Din back who huffs under his helmet and watches in the mirror. “Oh really?” You smirk and Throck nods, “been waiting on the most beautiful woman in the galaxy to show up and here she is.”

You roll your eyes and wish that someone else would pay you outrageous compliments like that. “Have you seen every woman in the galaxy?” You tease. “I don’t think so, because there are some women here with their helmets on.” You nod to the female Mandos standing around. “Maybe they are the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.”

Din rolls his eyes under his helmet and he flattens his hand against the counter, resisting the urge to clench his fist. “I have eyes. A visor that can see the smallest details. You - mesh’la - are the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. In my galaxy at least.”

You smirk as you take another sip of your drink. You aren’t drunk, but the alcohol makes you bolder than you would normally be. “If you fuck half as well as you flatter, I might be in for a good night, Mando.” You use the moniker you use for your Mando on purpose, wanting to see how the other man likes it. You don’t want to call his name out in bed, because you won’t be thinking about the man fucking you.

Din clenches his fist on the countertop as he listens to you call Throck “Mando.” He loves when you affectionately call him that. He clenches his jaw when he watches Throck lean closer, “well why don’t we find a quiet room and find out just how good your night can be?” Throck asks, a smirk clear in the tone of his voice.

You bite your lip, hating that he doesn’t have that musky, spicy scent that Mando has. But his voice is modulated and as long as his helmet stays on, you wouldn’t mind him fucking you. “Why don’t we?” You purr. “My quarters are empty.” You offer.

Din hears tour sultry offer and his jaw clenched, his chest tightening at the thought of another Mandalorian touching you…fucking you. He hates it and he shakes his helmet, turning towards you. “That’s not a good idea.” He says and Throck scoffs, “why not? The lady wants me. I want her. Stay out of this Mand’alore.” He spits sarcastically and Din turns towards him, his chest puffing in defense. “Because I’ve heard that the woman who spend the night with you end up with bruises that take weeks to heal.  She deserves better than that. Walk away now.” He demands, his voice taking on the authoritative edge.

You are surprised that Mando didn’t mention this sooner, he had to have known your interest. He’s not innocent. You learned that when you found out he used to be involved with that Twi’lek from his old crew. So it’s just that he doesn’t want you, and apparently, he doesn’t want anyone else to want you either. Just a companion for the kid. “I’ll be fine.” You promise. “Besides, I like it a little rough.”

Din hisses through clenched teeth, "not that rough. He chokes them. He - they can hardly walk." Din has watched many holovids on rough sex but the things he has heard about Throck makes his blood boil. He's a sadist. "She said she can handle it. Let the lady decide what she wants to do. Come on, mesh'la. I'll show you a good time." He reaches for your hand and Din sees red. He slaps his hand away and shoves the other Mandalorian backwards. "Don't touch her." He growls, jealousy and protectiveness swelling in his chest.

You jump back, surprised by the sudden defense from Mando. He’s always defended you against enemies, but this feels completely different. “She wants me to touch her.” Throck snorts, bowing up and stepping forward again in challenge. The conversations have died down and you feel every helmet and eyes turned towards you. “Stop.” You huff, not wanting them to fight.

Din growls, shaking his helmet, and he shoves Throck again. "She doesn't know what she wants." Din pushes him back again and the Mandalorian falls back into a table where several Mandos cry out as their drinks are spilled and cups fly onto the floor.

You don’t take offense to his insulting comment because you are too busy gasping in shock. “Mando!” You hiss, watching the scene deteriorate and unable to stop it as several push you out of the way as they crowd in.

Din sees red as Throck swings his arm to punch Din in the side after he stumbles to his feet, finding the vulnerable spots where the Beskar doesn’t cover. Din hisses and fights back, his strength and experience on his side as he battles with the other Mandalorian.

“Stop! Stop this!” You shout, but your voice is drowned out by the cheering of the crowd of Mandalorians. They love fighting, it’s practically a sport to them and the more vicious the better. Even when they are trying to rebuild their religion, they will always cheer on a fight. You shove through the crowd and push through to see Din head butting Throck with his helmet and punching him under the jaw where the just fabric covers his chin.

Din is clouded by jealousy and fury as he fights Throck. "You want her for yourself?" Throck realizes as Din throws him down on the ground and he speaks his winded epiphany. "Shut up." Din growls, lifting him to drop him to the floor again. The Mandalorian wheezes out his concession and Din's chest plate heaves as he turns towards you. "Din." You speak his name and it's like he's in a fog as he strides towards you, grabbing your legs to lift you over his shoulder. The others cheer as he carries you from the bar and he ignores your cries of protest and confusion.

“What- what are you doing!?” You cry out, head hanging down and you curl up your fist to beat against his back. Hitting it and crying out in pain because you forgot he had a backplate. “Put me down!” You yell, kicking your legs but he doesn’t stop. Mandalorians who weren’t in the bar turning towards you as Mando stalks down the hall with you hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Put me down, dank ferik!” Your hand slaps against his ass, the only unarmored portion of his body that you can reach.

Din ignores your pleas and the ache in his ass as you protest him carrying you away. He strides to his quarters, only setting you down when the door slides shut to his rooms. “What the fuck?” You cry as you stumble when he sets you down on your feet. Din doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like his body is on fire, his blood boiling, and the thought of anyone touching you makes his fists clench. He doesn’t even think when the next word escapes his lips, his mind still hazy with emotion, “strip.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. That single word burning through you and your cunt clenches with need. The mandalorian you have dreamed about is standing like and impenetrable wall in front of you and ordering you to strip. You don’t argue, reaching for your shirt hem and pulling it up over your head.

He watches, frozen on the spot as your skin - the skin he’s dreamed of, fantasised about so many fucking times, is finally exposed to his hungry eyes. He doesn’t say a word as you work on removing your clothes and his cock swells in his flight suit and his fingers twitch with the need to touch you.

The silence lingers between you and if you weren’t seemingly wrapped up in a trance of your fantasies, you would question him. You can't, though, you can’t say a word as you strip down to your bare skin and stand completely naked in front of a man that you have barely caught glimpses of.

Din’s eyes trail along your form and he groans your name, stepping forward to grab your waist and he drags you against him. His gloved hands slide down to your ass, greedy to feel all of the woman he’s dreamed about. “Mesh’la. Tell me what you want.” He demands, squeezing your globes of flesh in his hands.

You moan when he touches you, eyes sliding halfway closed as you burn the feel of his touch into your memory. Half afraid this is a fevered or drunken dream. You feel drunk when you haven't just moments before. “You.” You whimper. “I want you, Din. Always you.”

Din groans when you speak what he’s dreamed of hearing for so long. He walks you back towards his bed, letting your body drop and he keeps his armor on as his gloved hands explore your body. He squeezes your breast, watching your mouth drop open. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He confesses, “never imagined I’d have you.”

You whine in frustration, hating that he could have had you so long ago. “Anytime you wanted me you could have had me.” You gasp when he pinches your nipples and tugs on them. “Anytime.”

“Fuck.” He curses, his cock now throbbing and pressing against his suit in a way that makes him ache to be free. He focuses on you though, pawing at your tits, burning the sight of them to his memory in case you decide this is a one off. “Can I - can I touch you?” He asks and you giggle, “you already are.” Din shakes his head, “no. I want to touch you.” He says as his hand slips  lower to cup your cunt.

“Please.” You beg, reaching out and catching the edge of his pauldron and you try to pull him closer. “You can touch me however you want. As long as you don’t stop.” You want him to strip, but you feel like he won’t. Even if he kept the helmet on.

Your permission makes his stomach twist and he swears he nearly cums then and there. He hisses your name and withdraws his hand. You whimper in protest and he chuckles, removing his glove so his bare fingers can touch your wet flesh. “Cyar’ika. You’re so wet.” He murmurs in awe as he circles your clit.

You close your eyes, not sure if you should stare at the smooth, tanned skin of his fingers. His nails are short, neat and clean. Instead you just feel the way he touches you with certainty. “Always wet around you.” You confess breathlessly. “Imagining- fuck- sitting on your cock while you were flying the Crest.”

Din groans, his gaze flicking between your cunt and your face. His digits already coated in your arousal and he twitches in his flight suit, "you could've had that anytime you wanted." He promises and rubs your clit, wanting to hear you moan his name.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, irritated at yourself for not pushing him to touch you earlier. “Din….Inside.” You beg, wanting his fingers to curl up inside you. Opening your eyes, you stare into the dark visor of his helmet and wish that you knew where his eyes were focused right this second.

He's watching your face as he slides his fingers lower and he starts to push his finger into your cunt. You're clenching around his digit and he hisses, his gaze flicking down to your pussy as he adds another finger to feel how tight you are.

“So thick.” His fingers are thicker than your own and your eyes roll back while your hips grind down onto his hand. “Oh Maker, it’s- so damn good.

He can't believe how tight you are around his fingers and he starts to pump them in and out of your dripping cunt. "You are so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, curling his fingers when he pushes them deeper.

“You are.” You groan, even though you’ve never seen his face. His body, the armor and the way he wears it, his strength and competency all make him sexy. “Touched myself thinking about you. About this.”

Din groans at your revelation and he twists his wrist so he can press his thumb against your clit. “I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about you, cyar’ika. Fuck. So many times. Imagined you in my cot.” He confesses with a modulated tone.

“Didn’t think you wanted me.” You pant, you tone needy as he gives you exactly what you want and still you crave more. “It’s- it’s why I was going to take Throck.” You admit. “His helmet looks the closest to yours.”

Din growls, his fingers pumping faster, “he can’t have you. He doesn’t deserve you. I don’t - I don’t either but I can give you what you need. He can’t.” His blood boils at the thought of it and he reaches down with his free hand to squeeze his bulge, trying to find some relief.

Your eyes have opened again and you watch as he squeezes his cock. Making you moan at the slight. “Fuck.” You bite your lip. “I know you won’t, uh, undress, but can I see it?” You ask hopefully. If you can’t, you will understand but you are greedy for anything that he can give you.

Din knows he should say no but he can't deny you when you ask so sweetly. He nods, fumbling with his belt to undo it and he works on pulling his aching cock out of his pants. He is throbbing and when he can squeeze himself, he groans in relief.

He’s thick. Your mouth waters at the veiny, heavy length that is weeping from the tip. He’s longer than you imagined too, surprising you because you’ve never seen a cock so beautifully proportioned. “I want to suck it.” You moan, tearing your gaze away to look up at his visor. “Would you let me?”

Din swears he sees the Maker and he nods without hesitation. “If that’s what you want. You can have whatever you want, mesh’la.” He promises with a groan as he continues to finger your dripping pussy.

“Come here.” You shift down, twisting your body so you can reach his utility belt. You don’t want to miss the feeling of his fingers curling inside you, but you want to taste him. “Fuck it’s so big.” You coo, hooking your fingers under his belt to tug him over to you. Clenching down around his fingers as your own wrap around the velvety hardness of his cock for the first time.

He twitches in your grip, groaning your name, and he stops moving his fingers for a moment as you pump him in your soft hand. “Fuck.” He pants, “that’s - it’s so good.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering closed.

It’s almost surreal. You could cum from this alone. The scent that is specifically Mando, Din, envelopes you and beckons you. Making you lunge up and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

His stomach clenches, his helmet hitting his chest plate as he looks down at you. “Fuck. Imagined this so many times.” He confesses, “mesh’la. You are - fuck - don’t hurt yourself.” He urges when you choke after you take him deeper.

You pull back slightly, taking a deep breath before you take him back into your mouth. You don’t care if you choke, you want to hear him moan. Your cunt clenching as you start to take him deeper.

Din pants, his mouth dropping open beneath the helmet as he watches you eagerly suck his cock. It's beautiful and your walls flutter around his digits, making him remember to continue fingering you while you suck him off.

Humming around his length, you start to lift your head faster, deep throating him as much as you can before you pull off. You want to take all of him down your throat, especially if this ends up being a one time thing.

Din chokes on his own breath as you take him deep down your throat and he can’t believe this is happening. He hisses your name, his free hand cupping your cheek and sliding down to your throat to feel the way it bulges with his length pushing deep.

You moan around his cock when his hand grips your throat. There have been a few times you’ve imagined that gloved hand there, applying pressure while his cock hammers into you. Your eyes are watering and you can barely roll your hips down to his plunging fingers, you are so engrossed in sucking his cock.

He rubs your clit with his thumb, groaning your name when you gargle around his cock. He grips your throat a little harder and he doesn’t want to cum down to your throat. He caresses your cheek and pulls his cock from your throat. “I want you to cum on my fingers, mesh’la.” He demands, working his fingers in your cunt.

Whining, you close your eyes, nodding as he continues to pump his fingers deep into your walls. “Mando - Din, you are so deep inside me. Your fingers-“ you bite your lip when he pushes against a spot that makes you gasp out. “There!”

He groans, focusing on that spot and he watches you with his chest heaving as you cry out. His thumb works your clit and he keeps pressing against that spot, his cock twitching in your grip.

Your walls start to clench down around him, your eyes flying open when the sensations crash through your body. “Din!” His name spills from your lips as you start to shake apart from the skill of his fingers.

He works you through your orgasm, his cock throbbing at the way your jaw drops and your moan of his band. “Fuck. Mesh’la.” He murmurs in awe, loving how you soak his fingers.

He doesn’t pull away immediately, working you through it until you are completely wrung out. Slumping back against his bed in bliss and reaching down to caress the back of his hand, shivering when you feel how warm and soft his hand is.

Din withdraws his hand from your cunt, immediately wrapping his wet fingers around his cock, starting to pump himself as he observes how wrecked you are. "You are everything I dreamed and more." He murmurs, squeezing his cock.

“Then fuck me.” You beg, wanting to feel him inside you as he groans in pleasure. You want to feel the way he pounds into you and let him relieve all the stresses he has in your body. “I want you, Din.”

He can't deny you. He groans, nodding, and you whimper, watching him jerk his cock. "Hands and knees, cyar'ika." He demands, hissing when you follow his order. Your ass on display and he caresses it with his gloved hand, smacks it as he shuffles closer. "Tell me to stop." He orders, wanting to give you one last chance to stop him because once he has you, he's never letting you go. You will be his.

“Don’t you dare stop.” You push your ass back,  shaking it slightly as you beg for his cock. “If you do, I’ll go find Throck.” You threaten, although you know that would never happen. You wouldn’t be able to let him touch you after Din has. You are marked by him, even if it’s not visible.

Din growls, "I'll kill him if he touches you." He warns and slides the head of his cock through your folds. "You are mine." He grumbles as he starts to push into your tight, wet cunt.

The claim on you is complete, your back blowing as he drives into you. Not stopping until the armor covering his thighs touches the back of yours. You cry out wordlessly and hang your head down between your shoulders.

It's like something overtakes Din and his hands grip your hips, one gloved one not, and he starts to thrust into you. Jaw clenched beneath his helmet as he starts to fuck you in earnest, needing to claim you as his.

All you can do is hold on. Your hands fisting the sheets of his bed and you lean forward, lifting your ass more as you press your face into the bedding. Inhaling more of his scent in the space where he sleeps while you choke out his name. “Din! Fuck- more.” You moan, wanting him to completely destroy you.

Hearing you say that disappoints Din and he will reflect on that later but right now, he's thrusting harder. "Fuck. Need you - need you to cum first." He groans, his bare hand sliding down to rub your clit.

Your body bucks under the pressure of his fingers at your clit, surprised and pleased by him prioritizing your pleasure. “Din!” You gasp out his name again, looking over your shoulder as he rocks into you, his helmet faceless but you clench downs around him. The sight of him behind you as he hammers into you throws you over the edge.

The way you clamp down on his cock has him gasping out your name and he struggles to rock you through it with how tight you're squeezing him. "Mesh'la." He pants, pulling out of you and your whine echoes in his chambers. "I want this to last." He confesses, his cock throbbing with the need to cum but he takes a deep breath, trying to control himself. "On your back." He orders, wanting to see your face.

You flip over eagerly, not minding having this Mandalorian looming above you. He’s still completely covered except for one glove missing. His cock the only other thing you see. It’s wet with your juices and you moan at the sight of him. “Mando.” You reach up and squeeze both of your tits. “Din. Fuck me.”

He grabs your thighs, pushing them back as he shuffles closer until he is pressing back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are still fluttering and he groans, eyes focused on where his cock disappears into you.

He’s holding onto your legs with an iron grip, his one hand flexing and showing the rippling muscles on the back of it. It’s intoxicating and you want to know what he’s thinking with his helmet tipped down, obviously watching himself fuck you. “So sexy.” You moan. “So strong.”

Din groans as you take everything he gives you. His hips pressing against your ass as he lifts your lower body so he can sink deeper. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, lost in the feel of you.

You whine, eyes rolling back and you swear is pushing into your womb. “So good.” You gasp out. “So deep.” All you touch is the fabric of his flight suit when you reach down and you moan his name again.

"Touch yourself. Touch your clit. Show me how you touch yourself thinking of me." He demands with a growl on a particularly deep thrust.

You cry out in pleasure, letting go of your breast to reach down. Using two fingers to start rubbing harsh circles on your clit. “Every night on the Crest.” You confess breathlessly. “Everyday since I met you.”

Din twitches violently inside you at your confession and he watches as you rub your clit. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Fuck. I- I jerked off thinking about you. So many times. You don’t even know how beautiful you are. I watch you all the time.” He groans and feels your walls starting to flutter and clamp down on his cock. “Cum for me, mesh’la.” He orders, wanting to see your face when you cum on his cock.

A few more harsh thrusts of his cock sends you flying. Your back arches as you cry out loud enough for it to be heard through the halls of Mandalore. You don’t care though, you can think of nothing but how perfect he feels. “Cum for me!” You beg. “Fill me up, I want to drip your cum.”

Din pants, getting closer and closer to his orgasm. He pushes into your tight cunt, unable to hold back as he tries to work you through your orgasm but he can't hold back. He chokes out your name as he buries his cock deep, pulsing as he starts to fill you with hot spurts of cum.

You’ve heard him groan in annoyance, in pain, in sorrow, but you’ve never heard him groan like this. He sounds like he’s died and he’s reached the Maker, completely wrecked under his helmet. You bite your lip, knowing that he can’t remove his helmet, even if you begged him to. It would be wrong of you to even ask.

He feels like he's out of his body as he rocks into you, slowly to work himself through his orgasm. His helmet rests on his chest and he looks at his cock, shiny and milky with your combined cum, and he swears he sees all the stars of the galaxy.

You relax into bed, trying to catch your breath bit you feel like you’ve just run for miles through the deserts of Tatooine. A smile on your lips, you close your eyes, cunt still pulsing around his cock. “Maker.” You hum. “So that’s what it’s like.”

Din hums, his voice modulated, and he pulls out of you, groaning at the sight of his cum welling up in your pussy. "That's what it's like." He echoes, his eyes flicking up to your wrecked face.

“Nice.” You giggle slightly, but you can barely move, feeling him set your legs down as he shifts to stand at the foot of his bed. Managing to roll over to your side, you curl into his pillow and sigh. “You smell so good.”

Din desperately wants to feel all of you. He strides into the 'fresher, wetting a rag for you and he comes back with it, gently wiping you clean. "Stay there." He orders, tossing the rag into the sink and he walks over to the lights. "Close your eyes." He orders, watching you spread out on the bed.

You close your eyes, wondering what he is doing and then you sense the room going dark. “Din?” You ask, sitting up but you keep your eyes shut. “I’m here.” He tells you, moving around in the dark and you frown slightly, not understanding what is going on.

He strips his beskar with a familiar efficiency and the last item is his helmet. He's anxious to remove it, knowing you could easily betray his trust and turn on the lights but he pushes aside that fear. He loves you. He knows you wouldn't do that. He swallows harshly and unclips the locks, removing his helmet and after setting it down, he slides into the bed beside you. "You can open your eyes. The lights are off." He informs you, his voice unmodulated.

Inhaling sharply, you hear the change. His voice. It’s….clear. “Din.” You cautiously lean back, aware that he has removed his helmet and still you don’t open your eyes. “Is- is that allowed?” You ask softly, aware that he had gone through such a trial to be able to wear his helmet with honor again. Even if the living waters are in the cavern below you, you know how much his Creed means to him.

He chuckles at your tone, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he reaches for you, pulling you against his bare body. "It's allowed. It's a...loophole." He says with a smirk, "I wanted to feel all of you. Let you feel all of me."

“Maker.” You gasp, feeling how hot he is as he presses close. Instantly addicted to the feeling, you let him drag you over to him, practically laying on him. “You can do whatever you want with me, Din.” You admit quietly. “I would let you.”

He slides his hand along your back, "I can't give you everything. If I were any other Mando, we could speak our vows here and now and you could see my face. I can't - I don't want to promise you the galaxy and not fulfill my duties because I am duty bound to the kid...to Mandalore. I want to give you what you want but I can only give you this." He murmurs, wanting you to understand.

You try to understand what he is saying but you frown. “I just want to be with you.” You murmur, settling into his side and slowly sliding your own hand across his skin. “I’ve known I will never see your face, and I still lo- uh, wanted you.” You almost said it, but it would be foolish to confess your feelings when the man is literally saying that you can never be more to him than his partner in bed.

He catches what you nearly said and his heart stops. He cups your cheek, wishing he could see your face but he presses his forehead against yours. “I love you, cyar’ika. To me, you are my riduur. Please don’t misunderstand me. I want you. I love you. I’m trying to protect you.”

“What about me wanting to protect you?” You ask softly, leaning into his touch. “I don’t know what you are protecting me from, but I’ve already survived the Empire with you. The dangers of Mandalore. Everything.”

Din swallows harshly, knowing that he could be selfish, take you as his, but it’s hard to stomach that in case something happens to you. He’d never forgive him. “I’m protecting you from me. From the trouble that follows me.”

You snort, your eyes still closed as you shift to lay your head on his chest. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You scoff. “You’ve always kept me safe, even when it meant putting yourself in danger.” You yawn and sigh. “It’s why I love you. You protect others. Me, the kid. Those that need you.” You smile softly to yourself. “You’re a hero.”

"Sleep, mesh'la." Din orders softly, caressing your spine, and he hears your breath even out after a few moments. 

****

You blink, your body aching, and you smile as you remember what happened last night. You pat the bed and frown when you feel the cold and empty spot. He left. "To your left." Din says, kneeling by the bed.

Your eyes are naturally open, not registering that the lights are on. Or maybe it’s that you assume that Din would be wearing his armor, his helmet back in place. So when you turn your head to the left like he indicates, you are shocked when you see a warm pair of brown eyes staring back at you. “Dank ferik!” You yell, squeezing your eyes shut. “Shit, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”

Din watches your reaction and he reaches for your hand. “It’s okay, mesh’la. It’s okay.” He promises, “you can look at me.” You take a moment and blink as your eyes adjust until you finally look at him. “Hi.” He murmurs, taking in the sight of your beautiful face without his visor. “I want you to be my riduur. If you want that, repeat after me.” He says softly, squeezing your hand. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, staring at him as if you are memorizing his face. He smiles and you swear your heart stops at how beautiful he is. "We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors." He explains softly, squeezing your hand again. “Mandalorian wedding vows.” Your gasp is followed up by his small chuckle. “I told you that you are mine.” He hums and you swallow harshly. “M-mhi solum-no, uh, solus tome….” You see him nod as you struggle through the lines. “Mhi solus dar’tome.” He reminds you and you quickly repeat, “mhi solus dar’tome.” You bite your lip and he supplies you with the last lines again patiently. “Mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.” You finish, your voice steady as you stare into his eyes.

Din offers you a blinding smile, unable to believe you’re his riduur. “We are now one. We share all. Which means you can see my face. See all of me.” He tells you, “I wanted to give you everything. All of me.” He murmurs, squeezing your hand again.

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your free hand slowly reaching out to caress his cheek. He might not want the touch, so you give him time to pull away. “I would have taken whatever you could give me, even if I give you more than everything that I am.”

Din leans into your touch, "I imagined you with someone else and it killed me. I was stupid. I let my fears rule me and Mandalorians are never scared." He snorts, "but I am terrified to lose you. I love you, riduur. I need you." He confesses softly, letting you see all of me, the parts he conceals behind beskar.

“You have me.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips to his gently for your first kiss. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull back until you do. “And I’m going to stay with you.”

Din can’t help it, he surges forward to press his lips to yours. He’s sloppy, inexperienced, and he shifts to push you back onto the bed, his naked body covering yours in an effort to feel every inch of you against his bare flesh for the first time.

You groan at the feeling of his skin against yours. “Din.” He’s not the Mand’alor or a Mandalorian right now. Just a man, bare and vulnerable with you. The door to his quarters is locked and no one can interrupt you. Your hands sweep over his shoulder and down his sides, mapping scars from where someone has managed to injure him beneath the Beskar. “I love you.” You moan into his mouth.

Din groans, "I love you too." His hand caresses your neck until he's cupping your breast. "You are so beautiful." He murmurs, "so fucking perfect." His cock starts to harden against your thigh but he's in no rush as he kisses along your jaw.

You groan in bliss, feeling him start to get turned on. “We will raise warriors.” You muse. “Does that mean Mandalorians want kids?” You ask playfully, rolling your hips up to push against his cock.

Din chuckles, “yes, but only when we are ready.” He promises but his cock twitches at the thought of you full of his ad. He kisses down your neck until he’s satisfied that he has kissed every inch and then he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting.

“Din!” You are surprised by his eagerness to use his mouth on you. Reaching down, you start to tangle your fingers into his hair, the strands surprisingly soft and silky. “More, baby, oh maker, that feels so good.”

Your praise has his cock hardening and he loves how you feel under him. His tongue flicks over your nipple before he switches to the other one, taking it into his hot mouth while his hand squeezes the flesh of the one he just abandoned.

You give him complete control, whimpering praises as he pays lavish attention to your body. Worshiping you like you had never imagined he would. You knew he would fuck you good, giving you his cock hard and deep, but this is reverent. “My riduur.” The word is not one you would use, but it must be Mandoa and he groans in response, showing you that he likes it.

Din is eager to please and hearing you address him as your riduur has his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He has time to worship you. The kid is safe with the foundlings and he wants to spend his time tasting every inch of you. He wastes no time kissing down your stomach, eager to hear you moan his name, and he kisses until he is settled between your spread thighs. “Fuck.” He murmurs, eying your cunt and inhaling the heady scent of your arousal before he dives in. His tongue is sloppy and he has no idea what he’s doing except what he’s seen in holovids. He hopes he can please you.

You shiver and jolt in pleasure. Crying out, your fingers twist in his hair and you tug slightly. “Maker!” His tongue is searching and you look down to find his eyes fixed on your face. Watching you as he flicks his tongue and you moan at the sight of him between your thighs. “There.” You praise breathlessly.

Your moan of approval has him lapping at your clit. He loves it. He loves how you taste and he pays attention to your whines and whimpers, wanting to know what feels good to you. His fingers grip your thighs, keeping you steady while he unravels you with his tongue.

His touch starts to become more sure, confident as he licks through your folds. He is smart, almost too smart at times and he is quick to learn what you like most by your moans of approval. “Your tongue is as clever as your fingers.”

He chuckles into your flesh, loving the way you praise him, and he dives back in. He sucks your clit between his lips, closing his eyes as he hums against your flesh.

“Oh fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back as you moan. “Oh fuck, I’m so close.” Your stomach heaves and your thighs start to shake around his ears as he pulls you closer to the edge with every suck of his mouth.

His hands slide down to squeeze your ass, needing to feel you cum on his tongue, and he pushes his tongue deep into your pussy. His nose presses against your clit as he groans into your wet flesh.

That slight change in sensation sends you soaring. Feeling like you are in hyperspace as stars burst behind your eyes, making your vision go white as you cry out his name. “Din!” Your body bucks and twitches as your walls flood with your juices to soak his tongue and chin.

He swears he nearly cums himself then and there when your walls clamp down on his tongue. He groans, working you through it, and he knows he wants to do this over and over again. He’s addicted to how you taste and how you sound.

“You are a quick learner.” You praise breathlessly, giggling as you come down from your high. “That’s better than spice.”

He chuckles, kissing your thigh and he shifts up your body to press his lips to yours. He can’t get enough of kissing you. He loves it. He slides his tongue into your mouth, knowing you can taste yourself, and he loves it.

You hum in approval, slowly kissing him back and reaching down to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock. Starting to stroke him as he rocks into your hand while he keeps kissing you.

“I need to be inside you, riduur. I want to claim you.” He murmurs against your chin and you nod, shifting so you can position his cock at your entrance. He groans and slowly starts to push into you, loving the way you moan his name when he stretches you out again

It feels like he’s pushing so much deeper without the layers of armor and his clothing between you. His skin sliding against yours as he covers your body with his own. “I love you.” You murmur, tilting your head up to kiss his chin.

He groans, pressing his lips to yours as he starts to move inside you. “I love you too, mesh’la.” He murmurs and he starts to move inside you, loving the way you gasp as he stretches you out and he’s addicted. He loves how you feel gripping his cock.

This pace is different from last night. Last night, Mando was claiming your body and right now, Din is claiming your soul. It’s love making, soft and slow as if he has all the time in the galaxy. Lifting your legs, you hook them over his hips and start to move with him, groaning softly in pleasure from the way his cock spears into you.

He pants as you meet his thrust and he kisses every inch of skin he can reach. His hand slides up until it finds yours and he presses your joined hands into the pillow under your head. It’s slow and unhurried, so different to how he lives life. How he has to live life. “Riduur.” He murmurs against your jaw, “I love every part of you.”

“You are so perfect.” You coo, reaching up and caressing his cheek with your free hand. “It is such a shame that you have to hide such perfection behind your beskar.”

Din feels his chest tighten with your words, “I- I don’t know - I never thought I was much to look at.” He confesses, grinding into you and his cock twitching when he pulls back to look into your eyes and he sees the admiration there.

“You are so handsome.” You promise, knowing that you could gaze at him forever. Even if you know that he must put his helmet back on. “I am lucky. I am the only one who gets to see how handsome you are.”

Din offers you a smirk, pleased that you like how he looks, and he leans down to kiss you. “You are beautiful. Always thought it since the moment we met.” He confesses, “in that cantina.” He rocks into you a little faster, wanting to hear and feel you cum for him again.

“I thought I felt you looking at me.” You tease, breathless as he starts to pick up the pace. “Can never tell with that helmet on.”

“Always looking at you.” He promises, “can’t stop.” He squeezes your hand and lets go of it, his grip shifting to your thigh to bring it higher so he can sink deeper into you.

“There.” You whimper softly, eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Right there, Din. Fuck, you have the best cock. I’m gonna cum.”

He grunts, focusing on that spot, and he groans your name as you start to stiffen beneath him. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” He murmurs his demand, his dark eyes watching you as he pushes you towards your orgasm.

It doesn’t take long for him to work you up. Pressing inside you against that spot has you seeing stars. Until the last swing of his hips and you scream out his name. “Diiiiiin!”

Your scream of his name has him shaking above you and he hisses at the way you squeeze his cock. He pushes into you, working you through it and the emotions of the day are overwhelming. He can’t hold off like he did last night. It only takes a few more thrusts until Din pushes deep, his cock throbbing as he paints your walls with hot seed and your name is a strangled groan, spilling from his lips.

You caress his sweat sheened face as he collapses on top of you. “I love you, riduur.” You murmur softly. “Until the end of the galaxy .”

Din smiles, nudging your nose with his as he tries to catch his breath. “Until the end of the galaxy.” He promises and sighs, knowing that you will be by his side no matter what. He will protect you with his life. “Let’s get something to eat and then we can get the kid from his sleepover.” Din murmurs and you nod, caressing his back. “That sounds perfect.” Din smiles, rolling over so you are on his chest and he strokes your back, closing his eyes. He has everything he could ever ask for. He just has to fight to keep it now.

[rose-maidenn]

Pac : What is your soul purpose ?

Pile 1-2-3

Hi loves hope you have been doing well , I'm sorry for the inactivity . Here's a new reading focus your intention and choose what calls out to you most , take what resonates .

In case you need a deeper guidance feel free to checkout my masterlist and paid readings ( book at 30% off for april)

Pile 1 :

This is the birth you have been praying for this is the birth where you finally get initiated to a certain lifestyle, to be the devote of a certain God or Goddess this is it. You're born to be great to understand your own soul. You are the oracle you are the altar, this is the Pile of healers and people who know the truth about life. This lifetime play because most things in your life aren't hard but you're making it hard by getting into the mindset of hustle life's meant to be really easy for you , take it slow . There are really some good inventors in this pile , you may invent a new way of life , an idea or you may do some discoveries or inventions you are on the way to find something that will be remembered by the generations to come . You are here to show people how growth is an ongoing process and that healing isn't linear you're meant to play and keep growing , stress isn't a factor in your life believe that you deserve easy things and life will prove that you sure do .

Pile 2 :

You're the warrior you're the one who fights for justice , you Will fight for a good life and you will have it. Some of you might have dealt with adverse life situations in this pile. Bullying , toxic people etc were always around you have to now go through this take a sword and kill all the bad memories and start a new life have no resentments, your growth is the greatest revenge, let it go you grow like nature grows . You also are meant to gather people for a big purpose build a community (like be in social media, start classes in some art or academics) have a beautiful family life , but all this will happen when you realise that you're a leader Don't be afraid and don't gaslight you , you definitely are Born to lead now don't be scared hold your own hand this is meant to be . You will find so many people from your soul family , you will have so much support just trust the universe and keep working .

Pile 3 :

This lifetime has been hard hasn't it ? Everytime you think it will get better you see that there's something that's making it worse right ? Well trust that all the hurt would turn because each hurt is a lesson learned , you have to take the lessons right okay , don't just go through it write and apply what you learnt sit and talk to your higher self . You are what your ancestors prayed for you're healing your family you're the chosen one , the life of a chosen one is never an easy one but it's monumental and it teaches everyone a lot so trust your path see how you can make flowers grow on graveyard dust , because that's what it is about , you are meant to see the good despite the fall . Dance with life , if it makes you bow make sure you take the bow and show your moves because life's not something that happens to you but for you , you have been training for this for lifetimes this life this it it where you get ready for the biggest blessing this is when you let go of all hurts and grow into the person you're meant to be . Big time scorpio energy , you're a Phoenix don't be scared you will go down in history if you learn your lessons right .

Thank you so much for reading have a great time ahead love love

[lizardho]

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[eregyrn-falls]

Okay so... this is really NOT Tiktok's fault. It would shock me if the origin of "Daisy Bell" being regarded as creepy *isn't* Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" from 1968. Here's the key scene:

(A clip from "2001: A Space Odyssey, 4:35 minutes long, of the Deactivation of Hal 9000. If this embed ever goes bad, go search for "deactivation of hal 9000" and I'm sure you'll find it.)

I'm going to guess that anyone confused on this point has not watched this movie -- which is a famous science fiction classic, but it's also famously VERY LONG, dense, confusing, and many would say, boring. It has very good special effects for 1968, and I honestly HIGHLY recommend watching it because it's a classic of the science fiction genre, influential on pop culture, PLUS, it's kind of timely right now. It arguably started the conversation about Artificial Intelligence and its capacity for being a threat, and its pop cultural influence still colors the way we think of and talk about AI today.

Yes, it's slow-paced; that's partly due to film style in 1968, and partly due to deliberate choices about how to depict time and spaceflight. But if you want a lot of pop cultural references to click into place, find a copy, block out a few hours, sit back with your favorite snacks and beverage, and just watch it, all the way through.

Anyway... the key part of the above video comes at 2:50, but it's only 4 and a half minutes long (it will feel longer! again, deliberate), and I would say that watching from the start will give you a greater appreciation of the use of the song.

Basically -- the song is used in this movie BECAUSE OF the history of the IBM 7094 described above.

The thing a lot of people don't realize about "2001" is that it's a thriller and a horror movie. In all honesty, to appreciate the atmosphere of the above clip, it really, REALLY helps to watch the whole movie. However, if you're not going to, I'll give spoilers below, under a readmore. But since the clip above spoils that key moment, what I'll say is that the Hal 9000 shipboard computer, a true Artificial Intelligence (but nonetheless, a programmed computer, and that is a key thing), is being deactivated by disconnecting various memory and higher function modules. And as Dave Bowman does that, it is depicted as kind of doing a factory reset on Hal. So, at 2:50 above, Hal is knocked back to its initial greeting to a group of scientists or government agents when he was first activated, and he offers to sing "Daisy Bell" for them. THAT is absolutely a reference to the 1961 performance by the IBM 7094.

The reason it's creepy in the context of "2001" is because we're watching Hal "die", and singing "Daisy Bell" is kind of the last vestiges of Hal's sentient personhood disappearing.

But like... I would argue that the song wasn't included with the aim of making it creepy. My read on it is that the song was included to make Hal's death poignant. (And of course, remember that in 1968, the IBM 7094 had performed "Daisy Bell" only 7 years earlier; anyone watching the movie who kept up with science news would have heard about that, and might have seen footage of it.)

"2001: A Space Odyssey" would, as I said, come to be regarded as an extremely confusing and dense film. And once films like "Star Wars" came out less than a decade later, 2001's pacing would come to be seen as old-fashioned and boring, even though it was in great part a stylistic choice. (It was a movie meant to make routine spaceflight appear realistic, and so it was deliberately overturning expectations of fast-paced action that audiences would have had from kitschy scifi TV shows... yes, including the original Star Trek.)

But, despite what I'd characterize as the ambivalence of the audience towards the film, it DID leave a big imprint on pop culture. Today, if you ask people about "2001", they will probably have a few key impressions about the movie. First: oh my god, what the fuck was that ending??? Second: the Monolith, specifically the opening scene with the proto-humans (recently parodied at the start of the "Barbie" movie! More than 50 years later!). But then, I would argue, Third: the Hal 9000 computer, and probably this sequence of his deactivation.

The whole deal with the Hal 9000 was definitely meant as a cautionary tale. The audience is meant to be disturbed by what Hal does, and by Hal's end. (Arthur C. Clarke, who wrote "2001", wrote an entire sequel book that argues that Hal wasn't at fault for what happened; and that too was made into a movie in the 80s, "2010: Odyssey Two".)

Thus, this scene got referred to in popular culture again and again. To the point where almost nobody remembers WHY Hal sings "Daisy Bell", or that history with the IBM 7094. What they remember is how a cute, innocent song takes on a creepy, unsettling edge due to its context in the movie.

As I said, I don't really think that was Clarke's or Kubrick's aim. (Clarke wrote the screenplay of "2001" first, and was doing revisions on it as the film was being made. He only wrote the novel version after the film was completed.). But that was the effect. It seized public imagination, and became a reference point. And then, as these things do, it became regarded as a truism. "Daisy Bell" becomes ominous by association, and the public really never let that go.

Anyway, as promised, here's some spoilers:

So, the briefest synopsis of "2001: A Space Odyssey", lol:

(Short version: the Hal 9000 is the ai computer helping to run a spaceship on a mission to Jupiter. Hal winds up killing 4 of the 5 crewmembers, and tries to kill the 5th. Dave Bowman, the 5th crewmember, manages to fight back and deactivate Hal to save his own life. There are... reasons for all of this. Read on!)

There's this black Monolith, a featureless rectangle that is 1:4:9 (it's 11 feet high). We first see it in a dusty, desert landscape, surrounded by what appear to be apes, although it's also kind of clear that they are early hominids. (I'm not sure exactly what type; like, kind of like Australopithecus, but not that, exactly.). The early hominids are curious about the Monolith, and work up the courage to touch it. It makes an eerie noise. Soon after, one of the hominids pics up a large bone, and uses it to hit other things (and fellow hominids). The message: likely due to some influence from the Monolith, hominids have taken a developmental step in the direction of tool-use.

Millions of years later, in the near future, a man takes some routine spaceship flights to a moon base, on a top-secret mission. The secret is that U.S. explorations on the moon have excavated a Monolith, just like the first one. It's just sitting there. But it's very clear that it's not natural, so of course, the question is: where did it come from? Who put it there? The men all put on spacesuits and walk down into the trench to look at it. One of them touches it. The Monolith has been making an eerie noise, but then it suddenly lets out a piercing radio signal. The signal is determined to have been beamed in the direction of Jupiter.

So already -- this is kind of a thriller, because we've got this eerie thing, not made by humans, and it behaves in an eerie way. There's a mystery about what it is and where it came from, and if there is some alien intelligence behind it. So far so good!

Leap forward a few years to 2001, and two men are aboard a spaceship called the Discovery One. It's on a long flight towards Jupiter. The two men are awake and piloting the ship; there are three other men in cryogenic sleep, who are scientists. They'll be woken up when the ship reaches its destination. The two men are Dave Bowman and Frank Poole. They are assisted in running the ship by a computer with artificial intelligence, called the Hal 9000.

Hal tells the men that a radio antenna has failed and has to be retrieved. But when they bring it into the ship, the men realize there's nothing wrong with it. Hal can't explain the discrepancy, and suggests they replace the unit, and see if he detects it failing again; it might be the feedback that's faulty rather than the unit itself. But the two men become suspicious. They both get into an EVA pod (still docked in the ship), to discuss the situation where Hal can't hear them. They're worried about Hal's reliability, and decide to deactivate him. Unfortunately, Hal can SEE them, and can read lips.

Frank suits up and takes an EVA pod out to replace the unit. Hal sabotages the EVA pod and deliberately causes Frank's air line to be severed, which sends Frank tumbling away into space, untethered to anything. Dave suits up and takes another EVA pod to go rescue Frank. While Dave is out of the ship, Hal deactivates the cryogenic pods with the three sleeping scientists, killing them. Dave returns to the ship with Frank's body, but Hal will not open the door to allow the EVA pod back inside.

Dave manages to get back inside through manual controls. He enters Hal's processor core, and manually deactivates Hal -- that's the scene shown above. After Hal is deactivated, a video starts informing Dave of the ship's true mission -- investigating the radio signal that the Monolith sent towards Jupiter years before. Neither Dave nor Frank knew about the Monolith's discovery (it was top secret) or this mission -- but Hal did.

(It is not explained until that long-after sequel, "2010: Odyssey Two", but the reason why the Hal 9000 went rogue and killed or tried to kill all of the crew is because he *was* told about the ship's true mission, but then was instructed not to let Dave and Frank know about it. In the words of his original creator, Dr. Chandra, he was programmed to lie. That caused an irreconcilable clash of objectives for Hal, and he was programmed to protect the mission even at the expense of the human crewmembers. He had perceived the human crewmembers as jeopardizing the mission.)

Anyway, Hal is deactivated, Dave and the ship reach Jupiter, and discover a gigantic Monolith in orbit. Dave takes the EVA pod out to investigate it. He is pulled into what is referred to elsewhere (but not in the movie itself) as a "stargate". There follows a *really long* sequence in the movie of Dave (and the audience) being pulled through a vortex of trippy colored lights, accompanied by eerie sounds. It's clear this is having a profound affect on Dave.

The end of the film involves a lot of really confusing symbols. After the journey in the lights, Dave finds himself in an Earth-like apartment. He sees himself as an old man. He sees himself dying in a bed. Sometimes he sees himself, and sometimes he IS that old man. A Monolith appears at the foot of his bed, and, dying, he reaches for it. He is transformed into a giant fetus floating within a bubble in space, above the Earth.

End Credits.

So like... you can see how the movie is a thriller (involving secrets between governments, secret missions, and a mystery about a presumably alien... thing), and a horror movie (the entire sequence where Hal is murdering the crew, and Dave has to fight back against Hal to preserve his own life), and then... whatever the fuck that ending is about, which honestly is not something the movie up until that point hints is coming. I mean, it was 1968, so an extremely trippy ending that was at once abstract and philosophical wasn't out of step with the zeitgeist; but it still confused the hell out of a lot of people.

You won't be surprised to learn that even when it came out, the movie had very mixed reviews. Some people loved it, some people hated it. But it was so full of memorable set-pieces that a lot of those things ended up influencing pop culture anyway.

And one of those things is that "Daisy Bell" takes on an unsettling aura, due to its use in the movie.

Just to mention a couple more things: first, the decision was made to score the movie not with an original score, but with classical music. To this day, the opening notes of "Also Sprach Zarathustra" (by Richard Strauss, 1896) are associated with grandiose science fiction storytelling. The movie also used other recognizable pieces, like the "Blue Danube" waltz (by Johann Strauss II, 1867).

Finally: this is the second time that Kubrick took an old, popular song, and recontexualized it by using it in a movie. The first, of course, is his use of "We'll Meet Again", sung by Vera Lynn (1939), over the final sequence of nuclear explosions from the 1964 film "Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb". There, naturally, its use is dark and ironic, and since that's a film about Cold War paranoia, Kubrick used a popular song from WWII.

As I said, though -- the use of "Daisy Bell" in this movie was more directly connected to the history of computer development; Kubrick didn't pull it from nowhere, and it wouldn't surprise me if its inclusion in this sequence was suggested by Arthur C. Clarke, rather than Kubrick himself.

whoever decided to turn daisy bell into a spooky dookie creepypasta song is fucking evil. that computer was brave enough to sing us a delightful little song and you do THIS to him? thats hatsune mikus grandpa dude. fuck you

[psychemochanight]

I was thinking about the last comics that came out, and... I have two thoughts that have nothing to do with each other, but I'm going to mix them up here anyway.

First, It makes perfect sense that Dick h has the blood type that can give the most, but receive the least. (Empathy: It means you give blood until there is nothing left to bleed).

A long time ago, I had read a fic where Bruce commented on this, actually. I don't remember the name because it wasn't from ao3, but I want to look it up again sometime.

Dick told Bruce that he wasn't his son (because he wasn't adopted), but when something happens, and Dick needs a blood transfusion, Bruce is the donor.

Clark and Bruce are talking, and Bruce tells Clark that there is only one person in the League who can donate blood to Dick... Bruce himself, since they both are O-

He tells Clark that Dick has more of his blood than John Grayson's running through his veins. That's his kid, his son.

Which brings me to my second thought, which is that Dick's parents, according to the new issue that came out, had him training 10 hours a day from the age of three.

A typical workday is usually 8 hours a day, and many adults find it tiresome.

Dick has been training 10 hours a day since he was 3 years old.

And he seems to think this is okay, or something to be proud of.

Also, there's another comic where Dick says he sometimes wishes he was just a kid, watching the show, not being part of it.

And it's terrifying to see how this is always overlooked, how his situation is romanticized. Like, there's talk that Bruce should have done better, that he shouldn't have let a kid take such risks, that if he loved him he wouldn't have let Dick be Robin...

What about his biological parents? Mary and John?

I firmly believe that his parents loved Dick, I really do. But I also think they are simply terrible parents.

Sure, at that time it was normal for children to work in circuses with their parents, for acrobats not to have safety equipment... But the Graysons were known for going further. For their extremely dangerous stunts.

And Dick trained that since he was 3 years old.

Even in the older comics, where it's not specified that he's been training since that age, even if it had been since he was 7 or 8, it's still horrible. He was a kid. He should have been among the children in the crowd, not up there risking his life.

Shit, his parents should have used a net just to have a chance of surviving, to live for their son.

Maybe the trapeze act was their way of showing love. Maybe it was all they knew. Maybe they just wanted to share their life with their son.

But still, Dick shouldn't have been exposed to that. What if he was the one who fell, not them? How would they live with it?

Also, what psychological consequences did Dick suffer? They are always attributed to Batman, but were they really due to his time with him?

Sure, being Robin meant doing your job well or dying... But being an acrobat did too.

Dick always lived with the thought that if he does something wrong, he will die, that someone he loves will die.

It's no wonder he's a perfectionist, as much of a "control freak" as Batman himself.

It would also explain many things, such as the type of response he has. When you face a dangerous life of constant stress, your body loses its ability to react normally to stress, even if it's because of small things like an exam or something even less important. Adrenaline is pumped anyway, because your body recognizes the situation as a survival situation... And it makes you addicted to adrenaline.

Damn, even his heart stopping in the last issue makes sense if we could connect the dots.

They're two totally separate things for two separate comics, I know. Just... Damn.

[thetarotyapper]

what makes you so alluring? (pick-a-card reading)

paid services 18+ paid services tarot community ko-fi

(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. select the card based on the number provided below and scroll down to read about the card you have chosen. remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ pile 1

ace of cups, two of cups, 9 of cups, 3 of wands, 7 of pentacles

my lovely pile 1, with the ace of cups and two of cups coming out here, i see you are someone who is very loving and compassionate. you accept people for who they are and you’re a very understanding person. people love spending time with you because you just give out this comforting energy, it's almost irresistible. your kindness and your loving nature is what pulls people towards you. people can't help but just feel drawn to you, you know what i mean? your energy is so rejuvenating and when people talk to you, they feel so much lighter and better. but please be careful, im seeing that you might also attract a lot of negative energy. people see you as someone who can rescue them and because of this, im seeing that many people depend on you for emotional support. you might feel drained at some point but seeing people happy is your first priority and you know that people feel good when they are with you and that is what keeps you going. you are a very empathetic person and im seeing that many people would like to be your friend. 

with the 9 of cups and 7 of pentacles here, im seeing that you are someone who has put in a lot of hard work to be where you are right now. at some point in your life you might have felt like nothing is going your way and that all your efforts are going to vain, but here's the thing - you don't lose your ground. you still put in your 100% and because of your dedication and your strong mindset, you have reached the point in life where you are satisfied and you know your worth. you are someone who is independent and confident, and honestly babe you should be because only you know how much efforts you have put in - so be proud of yourself. you are in a state of emotional happiness and i don't see you letting anyone ruin your contentment. people find your hard work, dedication, efforts, confidence and independence very alluring. i wouldn't be surprised if people look at you as their role model. and for some reason i was getting a feeling that you might be interested in psychology because you always want to understand people on a deeper level and understand why people behave the way they do.

lastly with the 3 of wands falling out, your vision and your willingness to grow is what makes you so alluring. you are someone who is not afraid to let go of things that no longer serves you right. it's not easy, but you know that in order to seek something better, you need to move on from the negative energies. your ideas, your plans, your movements, the way you think is what makes you so alluring. you are someone who thinks about the future and you have this magnetic energy that draws people towards you. you are someone who likes to try out new things and you never settle for less. your curious nature and your thinking skills are what makes you alluring. your ability to see the good in the bad is what makes you so alluring.

٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ pile 2

the devil, ace of swords (reversed), hanged man, queen of swords, queen of wands

with the devil and the ace of swords popping out, the first thing i can confidently say is that you are someone who never gives up. you are someone who goes out of their way to seek the answer you are looking for and no matter the obstacles, you always overcome it. you give me the vibes of someone who has a very intense gaze and you guys might like to apply kajal/eyeliner - or maybe you have a very different style of applying it and people are drawn towards your eyes because of that. you might even have blue eyes or maybe you have very intense eyes because i see that your eyes make you look otherworldly. OMG WAIT I FINALLY FOUND THE WORD - bold and seductive. that's the energy you give off. you’re also unapologetically you and i'm seeing that some people might hate this about you but at the same time they find it so damn sexy. ugh pile 2 im literally tryna be like you because your energy is CAPTIVATING. you have this mysterious energy and you’re also someone who is very smart. im seeing that many people tend to get nervous around you and i'm also seeing that you like to keep people on their tippy toes. you like it people get worked up around you, don't you pile 2 hahaha. 

with the hanged man here, i see that regardless of having such a strong heart, you are someone who is vulnerable and you are sympathetic when you need to be. but if someone takes advantage of your soft side, oh i see you never forgiving them. you do not open up to people easily and it takes you a lot of time to trust someone, but if someone breaks that trust, you won't hesitate to remove them from your life. you are also someone who will not rest until you find your answers. you have a very driven nature and im seeing that many people wish they were you. can you even blame them babe? I WANNA BE YOU TOO PLEASE SHARE YOUR SECRETS. you also have a unique way of finding answers and people love listening to your opinions. you are someone who can remain calm when things don't go your way and this makes you so alluring. your calm and composed nature is what pulls people in. you are literally the definition of 'thinking out of the box'.

you know what is so beautiful about your reading, pile 2? the queen of swords and the queen of wands popped out together when i was shuffling the cards. do i even need to say anything at this point? like oh my god your energy is beautiful. i will never shut up about the vibes you give off, pile 2. you are someone who strives for honesty and clarity. you know when someone is lying and i'm seeing that people might even get a little intimidated by you. you are also someone who is direct and straightforward and you expect the people around you to be the same. you won't hesitate to call out people for their bullshit (sorry for cursing but i just had to say it!). i wouldn't say you’re confrontational, but you aren't scared of asking someone why they did what they did. oof, what a powerful energy. your independence and your confidence is what makes you alluring. you don't depend on others. i'm also seeing that you gain a lot of attention when you go out and that is because of the badass energy you radiate. you are also someone who is outgoing and you are not the type to settle for less. i know i said this a lot before but pile 2, please share your secrets with me. i literally wanna be you because your energy is just 🤌✨

٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ pile 3

4 of cups, queen of wands, 2 of wands, 2 of cups, ace of swords

my lovely pile 3, the 4 of cups and the queen of wands fell out together and the first energy i could sense here is that you have overcome a very difficult time in your life where you felt stuck and felt like nothing was moving forward for you. and you might have also blamed yourself for this. your angels are asking me to tell you that it wasn't your fault and that you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. the universe slowed down their blessings for you because it wasn't meant to find you at that point. but here's the fascinating thing, regardless of things slowing down for you, you were still hopeful. yes, you kind of felt like it was your fault but you didn't give up, and i am so so proud of you, love. there was a point in time where you isolated yourself and stopped enjoying the simplest pleasures in life. you were afraid, wondering if everything was a lesson. you guarded yourself from going out and making new connections. but then a realisation hit you, how long were you going to stay like this? how long can this go on for? that's when you realised you had to change your ways and your view towards life. it took a lot of effort and a lot of contemplation, but you finally put yourself out there. you finally let yourself free and enjoy the smallest pleasures in life. sometimes you would overdo yourself and feel exhausted because the fear of going back to your old harmful ways scared you. you need to slow down a little, babe. you need to go easy on yourself. overworking yourself is not good. yes you have come a long way and i know you’re afraid, but you need to know that going easy on yourself wont hurt, love. people have noticed your transformation and you might have attracted a lot of attention. because of your past, you might be a little distant and you might not be impressed easily. you are more guarded and alert. you tend not to get distracted easily, and people find this very alluring. i see a lot of people trying to gain your attention and win you over but with the queen of wands, you radiate confidence and self-assurance. people are attracted to your energy and your will to change. you’re brave and strong-minded, but at the same time you are kind and understanding. also, the way you laugh is very alluring. people love it when you laugh. the sound of your laughter is captivating. 

with the 2 of wands and the 2 of cups here, i see that you are someone who is not afraid to come out of your comfort zone anymore. you’re a free bird and you don't want to fall back to your old ways. now, you’re not afraid of trying out new things and your curious and experimental nature is what makes you so alluring. for some of you, im seeing that maybe in the past you might have gotten out of an unhealthy relationship where the person was not letting you move on (4 of cups) and one day, you finally realised that this is not right and you got the confidence to leave and you also evolved as a person (queen of wands) and now that you’re finally free, you’re not afraid to try out new things and you might also be making new connections - platonic as well as romantic (2 of wands and two of cups). i wouldn't be surprised if the people you know will try to shoot their shot with you because i see that many people were literally waiting for you to be single ( this energy applies for some of you who chose this pile). 

with the ace of swords coming out, i see that you like it when someone is being honest with you and you HATE people who play games. you yourself are a very honest person and when anyone asks you for advice or help, you’ll always be truthful and never hold back. i'm also seeing that you are a girl’s girl. if anyone compliments your outfit, you will literally tell them which brand you’re wearing. you don't like to gatekeep things and people love that about you. you’re also someone who is very intelligent and you have a sharp mind. you will cut through any confusion and you have a unique way of thinking. you can separate your emotions and make firm decisions. this ability of yours is what makes you so alluring.

hi loves!! i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot & oracle cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, feelings and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

જ⁀➴ all credit for the pictures & dividers goes to their rightful owners and creators.

[sunflowersonatas]

not a date: oneshot (hogmarch 2025!)

bsf!sirius black x f!reader / fluff / romantic tension

part of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch 2025 challenge!!

summary: you insist it’s not a date, and sirius lets it slide. but the idea lingers, quiet and persistent, in the way his fingers brush your sleeve, in the way he walks just a little closer than he needs to. if it’s not a date, then why does it feel like something he doesn’t want to end?

a/n: so i originally wrote this before hogmarch but it was already a hogsmeade trip lol so i've been sitting on this a while, i haven't read this in a week honestly so i hope it's good, xoxo sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 1282

The trip to Hogsmeade wasn’t planned—not like this. You and Sirius had simply found yourselves with a free afternoon; James happened to be occupied with Quidditch practice and Remus with prefect obligations, Peter off doing god knows what. Going together had been the natural choice.

But apparently, none of your classmates saw it that way.

As you make your way down the winding path, you notice the glances. Students nudge each other, whisper behind scarves, and smirk in your direction. It’s subtle, but not enough to ignore.

You elbow Sirius lightly, voice teasing. “We’re being watched.”

He barely looks up. “Not surprised, love. Happens when you’re seen with someone as devastatingly handsome as me.”

You scoff. “No, I mean—really watched. People are looking at us like we’re…” You trail off, waiting for him to take the bait.

He does, smirking. “Like we’re what?”

You glance at a group of younger students giggling behind their hands, then back at him. “Like I’m your girlfriend.”

His heart stumbles. His smirk, a moment ago so confident and assured, falters. Girlfriend.

The word embeds itself in his chest like a splinter, sharp and intrusive. It doesn’t belong to him—not really. Relationships, commitment—those things belong to people with futures untainted by their family name, people who aren’t constantly running from expectations. He’s always laughed it off, dismissed the idea of belonging to someone, but now—

Would it be so bad? Would it be impossible?

He tamps down the thought, smoothing over the disruption as quickly as it came.

“Good thing you’re not,” he mutters, but there’s a new edge to his voice, something he doesn’t seem to have much control over. “Otherwise, I’d have to start walking you to class, carrying your books… kissing you goodbye—“

The words slip out too easily. Too carelessly. The second they land, he realizes his mistake.

Your breath catches—so subtle, so quick, but he notices. It crackles in the space between you, shifts something delicate and unspoken. Your fingers clutch the fabric of your cloak just a little tighter, your gaze flicking—so briefly—to his mouth before you force yourself to look away.

You laugh, but it’s thinner now, barely there. “Yeah. Good thing.”

Sirius should smirk, should play it off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you, something unnameable settling in his chest. And for perhaps the first time in his life, he wishes he didn’t make everything sound like a joke.

By the time you reach Hogsmeade, he’s still thinking about it. Still pretending he isn’t. Which is why he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing—

Holding the door open for you without hesitation, like it’s second nature. Paying for your drink before you can reach for your coins, like the idea of you paying for yourself never even crossed his mind. Guiding you through the crowd with ease, his hand finding the small of your back—not demanding, just there, just steady. Like he’s done it a thousand times before. Instinct.

You take the Butterbeer from his hand, watching him over the rim of your mug after you’d found a vacant booth to occupy. “You’re making this very date-like, you know.”

He scoffs, but warmth pools beneath his ribs. “I’m just playing my part as a gentleman.”

“Right. Gentleman.” You tilt your head. “Buying my drink, walking me through the street like we’re—”

“Don’t say it,” he warns, but there’s no real bite to it. He already knows what you’re going to say, and the worst part is, he doesn’t hate the thought.

But you press on anyway, watching his ears pink just slightly. “Like we’re on a date.”

Sirius exhales, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, voice low, something dangerous curling at the edges.

“Careful, darling,” he nearly whispers, “keep letting me take care of you like this, and I might start thinking you like it.”

Your pulse jumps. You hate that he’s observant, that he clearly knows. Your fingers tighten around your mug, and for a moment, your mind blanks. Because he’s right.

Sirius sees it happen—that tiny, fleeting break in your composure, the way your eyes flick to his lips before you catch yourself. And that’s when he knows he’s won—because for the first time today, he’s the one making you flustered.

He watches you recover, fingers tapping against your mug like you’re thinking through something you won’t say. Then, after a beat—

“Do you—” he hesitates, clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “Do you want this to be a date?” His tone is strangely soft, more genuine than you’ve ever heard him.

You pause. For once, he can’t read you immediately, and it almost makes him nervous. Almost.

Because you want to say yes. You want to say yes so badly it makes your breath catch, makes your fingers tremble slightly against the worn wood of the table. It’s right there, caught in the way he looks at you—like he wouldn’t mind your answer, like he wants this as much as you do.

But to say yes would be to shatter something fragile, to step off the safe, familiar path of friendship and into something uncertain. And that terrifies you.

So you force a breath, steady yourself, and shake your head.

“No, that would be weird.”

The lie is bitter, but it’s easier. Safer.

It lingers between you, a spark hanging in the air, unburned but not extinguished. His gaze sharpens, not playful now, not teasing. Something else entirely.

Your throat tightens. It’s too much—this moment, this ache. If you reach for it, you might never let go. If you acknowledge it, you might never come back from it.

You let out a quiet chuckle, something awkward, something small. You glance away, as if that might somehow ease the tension thrumming between you, but it doesn’t. And when you look back, you both smile—small, knowing. A silent agreement neither of you have the courage to name.

Sirius exhales, the corner of his mouth twitching—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. Something softer, something real. And when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, deliberate, like he’s offering you a secret.

“Alright then,” he murmurs, gaze never leaving yours. “It’s not a date.”

Yet there's an understanding now. An inevitability.

When you leave the pub, the air is sharp, crisp with the fading light. The cobbled streets are slick with melted snow, lanterns flickering to life above shop windows. Sirius falls into step beside you, and without thinking, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Neither of you acknowledge it.

Not when he tugs you out of the way of a passing group, not when your hand brushes against his jacket, not even when you glance up and catch the way his lips curl, as if he's holding back something dangerous.

As you near the castle, you tilt your head. “Let me know if you ever want another not-date.” You pause, grinning. “That was fun.”

Sirius hums, gaze flicking to you, unreadable. Then, with the faintest squeeze of his arm around you, he smirks. “Careful, love. Keep talking like that and I might start planning a whole series of not-dates.”

It’s too easy again, almost a joke, almost nothing.

But the way his fingers trace absently over your shoulder as he lets you go says otherwise. Like he’s memorizing the feeling, tucking it away for later.

As you step through the portrait hole, tossing him one last teasing smile, he shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Not a date.”

But that affirmation does nothing to quell the stirring in his chest every time you smile at him like that.

☀️🌻 masterlist

[unsolicited-opinions]

this is a genuine question: why do you think the queer community is so bad when it comes to the antisemitism and even the overt Hamas support? I can’t figure it out at all. Jews have always been a huge part of and even pioneers in the community. now we’re banned and harassed and unsafe. I see a pride flag online these days and feel terror because I expect a watermelon or red triangle to be right next to it, it’s happened so often. I’d feel safer in a church than at a pride event. why do they hate us so much now? even those of us who are also part of that community?

I've been trying to figure that out, too.

I was pretty sure that the origin was in postmodern academia, but I didn't know much more.

I have never formally engaged with Queer Studies, nor with Gender and Sexuality Studies,so I had no idea where to start.

Someone on #jumblr (I regret that I don't recall who) pointed out this collection of essays, Poisoning the Wells: Antisemitism in Contemporary America.

Chapter 2 is "Pinkwashing Antisemitism: The Origins of Queer Anti-Israeli Discourse by Dr. R. Amy Elman.

I'm way outside my wheelhouse here, despite holding a degree in one of the social sciences.[1]

I'm going to try to summarize this in a way which is shorter and more digestible than reading the whole thing, but there's a link to the whole thing at the bottom of this Very Long Post.

Disclaimers:

1. Acknowledging the depth of my ignorance:

I don't have the contextual knowledge to know with confidence if this is an intellectually honest argument, or even if the history is fairly presented. If anyone on Jumblr has more experience studying this topic, I'd sure welcome their thoughts.

2. A note to LGBTQ+ readers on "queer":

I understand that some in the LGBTQ+ community don't care for the term "queer," and some regard it as a slur. I have tried, for this reason, to cease using this word in my daily life. Below, I'm going to use the word "queer" a lot here, however, because Elman does and the scholars she discusses do. If you're among those who dislike this term or find it hurtful, I hope that you will not see my doing so as a slur or an insult

3. My editorial comments are in blue.

4. This is long. Not as long as the article itself, but long for Tumblr. You are forewarned.

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Elman says the increasing appeal of queer politics was for specifically millennials, and the BDS movement actively pursued a "queer" plank to broaden its appeal.

This tracks.

She says that Leaders from both movements saw a potential for synergy, with some suggesting queers could transform BDS from a "vanguard movement" to a "popular" movement.

Elman gives a history of the "Queer Movement" in which she argues its adherents are particularly susceptible to BDS's "pinkwashing" accusations.

She says:

- "Queer" is an intentionally broad, deliberately ambiguous term encompassing various sexual and gender minorities who reject traditional LGBT politics as conservative.

- The queer movement emerged in the late 1980s and early 1990s in opposition to both neo-liberalism and feminists who critiqued sadomasochism (S/M) and the sex industry.

- This opposition to feminist critiques of the eroticization of inequality, says Elman, is a crucial factor in understanding queer politics' susceptibility to antisemitism.

- Elman says early queer activists prioritized passion over reason, making them potentially vulnerable to harmful ideologies.

The Feminist Sex Wars

- There was conflict, says Elman, between lesbian feminists and proponents of S/M, arguing that the increasing acceptance of S/M within the lesbian community weakened its ability to resist fascist values.

I don't see the need to politicize whatever one enjoys in private as long as it is safe, sane, and consensual, but okay.

- Elman draws a parallel between the eroticization of fascism in the past (referencing Susan Sontag and Sheila Jeffreys' concerns about Nazi aesthetics in queer subcultures) and the current uncritical embrace of certain radical ideologies.

- Elman says the embrace of "outlaw" identities and the downplaying of the harmful implications of S/M practices (including the use of fascist symbols for parodic purposes) are problematic trends within queer politics.

Which made me think of seeing Queers for Palestine protestors calling Jews "Nazis" and combining the swastika with the mogen David.

- Elman argues that the rise of queer politics led to the silencing and marginalization of lesbian feminists who focused on women's rights and opposed the industrialization of sexuality and S/M.

Like Andrea Dworkin?

- Elman says Queer Theorists have dismissive attitudes towards lesbian feminist concerns and that the once-flourishing spaces and intellectual contributions of lesbian feminists were diminished within the broader "queer" coalition.

As a cishet man, I had thought the broadening of the movement, the addition of each letter in LGBTQ+, gave all parts of it more strength, but it seems obvious to me now that lesbian concerns aren't always the same (and may not be aligned with) gay men's concerns, enby concerns, trans concerns, etc.

I can see how being subsumed by a larger movement could dampen the voices of its different component populations and diminish the perceivability of the points on which they don't agree.

Judith Butler features prominently here.

- Elman seems to say Butler's nuanced stance on her lesbian identity is rather different from her non-nuanced Jewish identity, and it is "as a Jew" that she declares her anti-Zionism.

...in 1989, [Butler] was asked to provide a lesbian lecture and responded that she would rather describe herself as "being" homosexual because identifying as lesbian felt "neither true nor false." Yet, she demonstrates no similar reluctance to claim a Jewish identity years later. To the contrary, it is "as a Jew" that she condemns Israel and vows to develop a Jewish opposition to Zionism.

A decade after Butler vacillated over being lesbian, she similarly described her nearly two-decade-long relationship to S/M discourse as "active and complicated," a position in keeping with the tenor of her fourth book, The Psychic Life of Power. In it, Butler speaks of her "paradoxical" embrace of "injurious" names because they "constitute" her "socially."

Huh. Jewish identity without nuance? I'm not sure I've ever seen that...?

- Elman says Butler's engagement with S/M discourse and her concept of erotically embracing oppressive power structures are linked to the potential eroticization of antisemitism and the demonization of Israel.

As Martha Nussbaum explains, the central thesis of The Psychic Life of Power is that “we all eroticize the power structures that oppress us, and can thus find sexual pleasure only within their confines.”

If Nussbaum is correct, there may be no better explanation for the ongoing eroticization of antisemitism and the demonization of Israel.

So concerned was Nussbaum by Butler’s influence on American women’s studies programs in the 1990s that she concluded,

"There is despair at the heart of the cheerful Butlerian enterprise. The big hope, the hope for a world of real justice, where laws and institutions protect the equality and the dignity of all citizens, has been banished, even perhaps mocked as sexually tedious. Judith Butler’s hip quietism is a comprehensible response to the difficulty of realizing justice in America. But it is a bad response. It collaborates with evil. Feminism demands more and women deserve better."

"Hip quietism" makes me want to read more Nussbaum.

Butler was chair of the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (later renamed Outright First)...which was a UN recognized organzation. While the name might cause the casual observer to to think it would focus on gays and lesbians, it has seemed to focus on Israel.

Outright First claims it advances LGBT rights through awards consistent with its agenda, yet the first of these was not made until 2005, fifteen years after its founding and the same year that BDS was ostensibly established.

That year, the organization honored Mary Robinson, who decriminalized homosexuality as Ireland’s first woman president (from 1990-1997).

Robinson also served as the UN’s first woman High Commissioner for Human Rights and, in this capacity, Robinson oversaw the 2001 UN World Conference against Racism, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance in Durban, South Africa.

Despite the conference’s noble rhetoric, the antisemitism that it manifest led Robinson to resign in disgrace.

It was in Durban that “anti-racist” organizers revived the scurrilous Soviet charge from decades earlier that Zionism is a form of racism and Israel is an apartheid state. Although Robinson called these allegations inappropriate and unacceptable, she did not reject the conference’s final declaration that contained them.

Ach. The feckin' Irish again.

...in 2008, Desmond Tutu became the second recipient of the organization’s “Outspoken” Award. Tutu, a Nobel prize winning anti-apartheid activist, is also an outspoken critic of Israel for “practicing apartheid” in its policies against the Palestinians. While he too condemned bigotry against gay men and lesbians, like Robinson, Tutu may be better known for his opposition to Israel than for any long-standing and deep defense of LGBT rights. Thus, one wonders whether the “critical partnerships” Outright First fostered were less those that promoted the world’s LGBT communities than those that helped legitimize anti-Israel activism.

This example, it seems to me, is a more appropriate illustration of “pinkwashing”:

that is, pinkwashing may be less about bolstering Israel’s reputation than providing Israel’s sworn enemies a seemingly progressive mask behind which to conceal their animus.

Pinkwashing, Triangles, and Softcore Holocaust Denial

The term "pinkwashing" initially referred to corporate profiteering from pink-themed breast cancer awareness campaigns.

Elman contrasts this with the reclamation of the pink triangle by gay activists as a symbol of defiance after the Stonewall riots, noting that this is a "disturbing" appropriation of a Nazi symbol.

Years before American corporate executives bolstered sales through gender-conforming pink promotionals to women, American gay male activists openly embraced pink to signify their gendered defiance after the Stonewall riots of 1969.

This political reclamation manifested itself in their adoption of the pink triangle Nazis used to denote and facilitate the destruction of those men they identified as homosexual. That this exclusively male Nazi symbol came to signify LGBT rights is disturbing and reveals a movement that, whether through ignorance or choice, embraced a fascist aesthetic

Is that fair? The idea of reclaiming is to take the symbol away from the oppressor and redefine it, right?

ACT UP's use of the pink triangle and its analogies between the AIDS crisis and the Holocaust are presented as examples of "softcore" Holocaust denial that paved the way for later strained comparisons.

By 1987, the Nazi pink symbol gained American prominence when the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP) used it for its logo, which also read “Silence Equals Death.”

Founded by Larry Kramer, ACT UP’s mission involved combating the public’s indifference to “the AIDS Holocaust.” Equating the epidemic with Jewish genocide, ACT UP’s gay pride float that year depicted a concentration camp within which activists posed behind barbed wire. Kramer’s book, Reports from the Holocaust: The Making of an AIDS Activist, further popularized this agitprop and the pink triangle marked its cover. As the HIV death toll mounted across the globe, ACT UP’s rhetoric and the Nazi triangle became internationally ubiquitous

So Elman believes this was softcore Holocaust denial through universalization/appropriation by the queer movement.

Holocaust images...absent the Jews. We see a lot of that on social media from the LGBTQ+ community right now.

BDS and "pinkwashing"

Sarah Schulman, an ACT UP alum, was as a key figure in popularizing the "pinkwashing" accusation against Israel. Here's an inside look at how that happened:

And here's Schulman's 2011 NYT piece:

If you need to get past the paywall, use this link.

Schulman's argument is that Israel's promotion of its LGBTQ+ rights is a cynical tactic to conceal human rights violations against Palestinians.

It couldn't be a natural outcome of an electorate with a majority which is socially liberal enough to not want to persecute their LGBTQ+ family members? Why not?

Oh, it's because Jews are sneaky and devious /s

Elman critiques Schulman's anti-racist pretense, arguing it invisibilizes Israel's diverse population and misrepresents the motivations behind Israel's LGBTQ+ initiatives.

The investment in Tel Aviv as a gay vacation destination is acknowledged, but its negative framing by BDS as "pinkwashing," says Elman, creates not just an entry point for antisemitism, but also a permission structure.

Soon "pinkwashing" took on a different meaning from the one intended by the women who originally coined it.

When applied by "pinkwatchers" whose sights are trained exclusively on Israel, the accusation became an entry point for antisemitism.

According to Wikipedia, it now describes "a variety of marketing and political strategies aimed at promoting products, countries, people or entities through an appeal to gay-friendliness in order to be perceived as progressive, modern and tolerant."

As Cary Nelson observed, "the pinkwashing accusation gives license" to condemn Israel, while discounting all of its achievements (e.g. legal protection against sexual orientation discrimination, recognition of same sex marriages, joint adoption, and open military service) without any reservation.

Want to know the first thing Sarah Schulman posted to Twitter on 10/7/23?

Here's Canary Mission's page about Schulman.

Elman continues:

There may be no better way to simultaneously encourage antisemitism and dismiss Israel’s LGBT initiatives (whatever their shortcomings) than to insist those efforts undermine the rights of Palestinians.

Were it not for BDS double-speak, Schulman could not maintain that she “never” betrayed queer people, despite her having acted in “solidarity” with “presumably straight Palestinians” to oppose Israel’s LGBT community.

Like countless other “queers” who take “pride” in being “ashamed” Jews, she received political “guidance” from “presumably straight” folks like Omar Barghouti, the purported founder of BDS.

Known for his explicit desire to “euthanize” the “Zionist project” and his vocal opposition to the two-state solution, Barghouti insists that not even “the end of occupation” will end his struggle.

Elman wraps up:

Like “Islamophobia,” “pinkwashing” and its corollary “homonationalism” are accusations often employed to silence critics while simultaneously providing those who issue them the appearance of being concerned about LGBT people and other minorities. Yet, this posturing offers little in return.

In fact, these denunciations are in keeping with the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation’s longstanding assault on homosexual conduct, gender equality, and universal human rights at myriad UN fora under the insidious cover of anti-racism and anti-imperialism.

That BDS similarly promotes itself through the cynical appropriation of social movements and ostensibly progressive claims that vilify the Jewish state represents a consummate act of public diplomacy in which anti-semitism itself has been pinkwashed.

You can grab a PDF of the whole chapter here.

You can grab a PDF of the whole book here.

You read the whole thing!

Have a cookie: 🍪

_________

[1] I agree with Neil Postman that the social sciences would more accurately be called moral theologies...and are not sciences.

You can read more about Postman's point here if you want to know what I mean by that..

[yesimwriting]

Middle Ground

A/n i've been talking about exploring other iwtv time periods so this drabble is me branching out of my comfort zone a little and writing a fic set during the 1940's, coven paris era

(i'm writing this with the same dynamics as bestie-verse in mind so i guess this can count as a bestie!reader au, but the only context you need to understand this fic is that reader is best friends with louis)

Summary: When a quiet evening of reading with your best friend is interrupted by the only vampire you've ever disliked, Louis decides that the best way to thaw the ice between the two of you is to have Armand walk you home.

----

The stiff, grainy feel of the material beneath your fingertips is familiar enough to soothe you out of any uncertainty. Though, the growing frequency of your visits is making the small reminders of normalcy your mind once desperately latched onto less and less significant.

As if to prove to yourself that you've truly surpassed the need for subconscious sources of comfort, you shift in your seat, your shoulders relaxing against the sofa's cushioning. You tap your index finger against the edge of your book's hard cover as your other hand moves to turn to the next page.

Hm. The new page brings a new chapter, which is exactly where you promised you'd stop. However, reading ahead by a page or two wouldn't be unforgivable. If you're careful enough about it, you might even be able to get away with reading until the novel's protagonist gets past this particular problem without--

"Don't," the sound of Louis's voice derails your attempted plotting.

You straighten, spine pulling away from the couch as you turn your head enough to narrow your eyes at him. "You promised you'd stay out of my head."

"And you promised you wouldn't read ahead." Louis lifts his head away from his own book, the almost-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth making it clear that your attempted betrayal isn't as offensive as he's pretending it is. "We're both liars."

The underlying sentiment pressed into his words forces a sharp to settle between your ribs. It's a feeling you only really get when you're around Louis, a sense of total understanding, like you could verbalize every thought you've ever had or never speak again and still be understood exactly the same.

You grin, "Then I guess it's a good thing we found each other."

"I guess it is."

You allow the sentiment to linger there for a moment longer before turning your attention back to the book on your lap. "Is Claudia here? I think she'd like this story more than some of the others we've been reading."

The question gets to him more than you wanted it, the corner of his mouth tugging itself downwards. "She's at the theater, she's got a show tonight and they're probably going to have her stay after for a little while."

It's not a surprising response. While the pieces of information you've been able to gather about their coven and the Thèâtre des Vampires paint a less that perfect picture, Claudia seems committed to making it all worthwhile, and even if she wasn't, from the few times you've helped her study her lines before rehearsal, she does seem to find some genuine joy in performing. Besides, at least she's willing to seek out a greater sense of vampiric connection.

You press your thumb against the book cover's edge. "Why aren't you there, too?"

Louis doesn't exactly react, but something behind his gaze seems to close itself off. You should have expected the shift. Since the initial revelation of his secret, Louis has been open about the details that you've been willing to ask him about. However, the coven as an entity has always felt like a bit of sore point.

You don't mind his hesitancy as much as you used to. Meeting Armand and seeing the little girl costume they put Claudia in was enough to quell your curiosity about the theater's inner workings.

After a second, Louis relaxes his shoulders in a way that almost feels like an attempt at compensating for something. "I'm better off reading with you."

The sentiment, though kind, feels incredibly evasive. "But you can read with me anytime." You relax your hand, pulling your fingers away from your book and towards your lap. "And it might be good for you..." Louis gives you a look that feels much too amused. You didn't mean to stumble onto making an actual, serious point. "...To spend more time with people that are like you."

He shifts slightly, posture easing again. "You're like me." The words are said with a genuineness that you can't turn into anything else.

You let yourself smile. "You know what I mean."

"I'm around the coven enough." Louis speaks slowly, his voice even and flat the way it always is when you imply worry. "And I see plenty of Claudia's shows."

It's a response you don't feel the need to argue against. While your visits with Louis are becoming more and more common, you don't see him every evening, and while you are willing to stay up later than usual to spend more time with him, you don't exactly keep the same hours. He likely spends more time around the coven than you're aware of.

"Okay," you begin slowly, "I jus--" You're cut off by the gentle groan of hinges being pushed out of their resting position.

You move on instinct, your back pressing itself against the couch's cushioning as you turn to face the door. Louis made it sound like Claudia would be gone for awhile, but it's not so early in the evening that the thought of her return is inconceivable.

The door's pushed open further, revealing a tall figure in dark clothing. You press your lips together to keep from frowning.

Armand takes a step forward, firmly entering the space before shutting the door behind him. There's no hesitation in his movements, no indication that he'd ever consider acknowledging your right to the time you planned on sharing with your friend.

At the general sense of misfortune clouding your mood seems to be mutual, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before flitting towards Louis. "I didn't realize you were still entertaining your book club."

Louis lets out a small breath, a subtle attempt at dismissing Armand's exaggerated formality. "I told you she'd be here tonight."

He takes in the response in as he moves further into the room. "Even when you don't think to let me know, she usually is."

You lift your chin slightly in an attempt to seem steadier. "I'm not here that often." It's an honest enough argument. You and Louis have no choice but to build lives on opposite schedules and you do dedicate a fair amount of your time to the art classes you initially came to Paris for.

"Often enough."

The retort feels incredibly petulant for a being as ancient as he's meant to be. "What a biting argument."

Louis angles himself to better face you, mumbling your name in a tone that you've learned to understand as a warning. It's not uncommon for Louis to redirect you as a way of keeping the peace between you and Armand.

"Allow her to make all the comments she'd like." There's a tranquility to Armand's mock-defense that presses into your skin uncomfortably. "Perhaps they'll help her when she finally learns what it feels like to move through this world without the privileges I've offered her."

It's a threat that you've become relatively accustomed to. Armand prefers to remind you of the vampires whose existences are defined by Armand's influence rather than threaten you directly.

"Leave her alone," Louis's response is pointed yet not strained or overly concerned. You're not sure what to make of it. "You know she's no threat."

Armand tilts his head slightly. "Any mortal that knows enough can be perceived as a source of danger." His attention shifts onto you. "Even the fragile ones with terribly delicate features." There's a tension there, a hardness forced into the syllables that you can't make sense of.

You press your thumb into the corner of the hardback's cover. "I'm not that fragile."

He holds your stare. "I'm sure you believe that."

There's nowhere left for the argument to go, but the thought of looking away first feels too much like an attempt at retreat. You keep watching him, your mind noting the color of his eyes more than you'd like to. The shade of them seems to be impacted by the flat's lighting, the nearly amber color turning into something darker.

Before you can begin to dwell on the difference, Armand turns his head to look at Louis. You're more satisfied by the likely imagined victory than you should be. "I'm assuming that you'll be occupied for the rest of the evening."

It would be an easy thing to embrace your right to be here, but there's a good chance you've already significantly pushed your luck. Besides, for reasons beyond your comprehension, Louis enjoys Armand's company. If the two of them want time alone together, then they should get to have it. You'd likely have to leave soon anyway, staying out past a certain hour isn't appropriate, no matter how platonic your company is.

"Actually, you'll have Louis to yourself soon." You close the book on your lap as you angle yourself to better face Louis. "It's later than I meant to stay."

Louis frowns. "It's not that late."

While you have stayed over later than you should before, you do have to be relatively careful about the hours that you choose to spend out of the house. Your Aunt Celia was generous enough to not only fund your studies but to also allow you to stay with her, and she's a woman of older values. The last thing you need to do is give her a reason to concern herself over what you do during your spare time.

"I don't want to worry my aunt," you begin carefully, "You know how Celia is."

Louis responds with a suspiciously agreeable, "Alright." He moves slowly, marking the page in his book before shutting it. "We'll talk about the book tomorrow, then."

"Yeah," you nod, "Tomorrow."

Louis straightens, his focus shifting away from you. "Armand can walk you back."

What.

The thought of being left alone with Armand in any capacity leaves your mind reeling without direction. You're slowly growing accustomed to keeping your mental reactions in check, but manufacturing 'correct' mental reactions hasn't become much easier.

When you can't figure out an appropriate mental response, you decide to focus on the tangible. You bring your hands together on your lap. "He doesn't need to do that."

"No, but the two of you need to start tolerating each other better."

You're not sure why Louis thinks that spending more time around Armand will make him more likable, or why he particularly cares about the way that you and Armand interact with each other considering how little he seems to mind Armand's treatment of Claudia.

Maybe it's Louis's way of keeping you safe despite your physical limitations. Armand sees no point in your existence, ending your life would mean nothing to him. He doesn't even owe you the kind of inherent loyalty everyone owes to those that are like them.

"And Armand doesn't mind." The words are little more than Louis's attempt at placating you.

The false sentiment briefly blankets the room in a flat silence. Armand shatters the quiet with a tired sigh. "I do not."

His acceptance of the situation does nothing to ease you. For all you know, he's viewing this potential privacy as an opportunity to get rid of you peacefully. Still, you can't bring yourself to give him the satisfaction of your worry. "Okay."

Before you can dwell on what you've just agreed to, you push yourself to stand, your hand pressing into the couch's cushioning. Louis's palm settles against the back of your hand before you can fully straighten. "Be nice."

You finish pulling yourself away from the couch. "I'll try."

----

Silence has a way of magnifying darkness, of stretching dimly lit streets into paths not meant to be taken.

You push against the feeling, your gaze focusing on the stony pavement beneath your shoes. At least the weather's fairly nice, there's a slight chill to the evening air but there's no sharpness to it. The night's also a little cloudier than usual, but the potential threat of rain feels far away.

You turn your head just enough to see that Armand is still dutifully walking by your side. "It looks like it might rain before morning."

If he's surprised by your attempt at conversation, he gives no indication of it, his expression remaining flat. He hums once in acknowledgement of your words instead of actually responding. There goes the bonding opportunity Louis was hoping for.

"You dislike me." There's nothing tactful about his delivery.

You blink, unsure if you're more thrown by the suddenness of his voice or the bluntness of the accusation. While you've never been particularly warm to him, you're not cruel either. And even if you are, on occasion, harsher than you should be, it's only because you're drawing from his perception of your existence.

Still, it's one thing to make a snarky comment during a conversation and another to openly acknowledge disliking someone. You keep your eyes focused on the ground. There are only so many ways you can respond to that kind of comment, and most of them aren't applicable when you're conversing with someone that can read your thoughts. You don't even have the option of offering him a polite lie.

"I never speak ill of you to Louis." It's the closest thing to direct denial that you can manage.

Armand steps begin to slow as he digests your response. "How diplomatic."

You lift a shoulder in an uncertain shrug, "I can't think of another reason for you to care about whether or not I dislike you."

He briefly stills before angling himself to fully face you. "It's not about your opinion mattering."

The reaction is strange enough to get you to stop. You turn towards him. "Then what is it about?"

Armand blinks, pressing his lips together for a long second before responding, "You dislike me." He takes a small step forward, and even though the increase in proximity is minimal, it feels oddly tense. "You don't know me, but you dislike me."

There's a quality to his voice, a heaviness that's almost moving enough to make you wish you were capable of offering him some kind of comfort.

"I..." You begin uneasily, "I dislike the way that you and your coven have treated Claudia." There's something unnerving about being so open, so honest in front of him. "And don't--don't hold that against her, she doesn't complain to me." That's another truth. While you and Claudia have at times discussed and even joked about the little girl costume, she never lets herself seem to upset by anything in front of you.

"She hasn't?"

"No," you say firmly, "My disgust over the irony of an immortal forever trapped in a child's body being forced to play a little girl night after night is my own."

He takes another step towards you. "It's easy to be disgusted by my actions when you're unaware of the alternatives, but others in my position would have been much less kind to both of you."

Instead of remaining as neutral as you should be, you let out a tired sigh. The argument that he's not as bad as he might seem because at least he's not worse isn't as effective as he thinks it is.

"I also dislike the idea that a lesser cruelty should be considered a kindness."

He's quiet for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he regards you. Something uneasy roots itself in the pit of your stomach. "It's easy to be noble when nothing is expected of you." Armand takes another step forward. "There are things that have to be done to maintain order." Another step. "If I do not do them, someone else will."

The justification isn't enough to convince you that all of his actions are a sacrifice for the greater good, but it is a glimpse into his perspective.

You give in with a soft sigh, taking a step in his direction. The shift is an insignificant one, but you trust him to interpret the movement as the middle ground it's meant to be.

"I can understand that." You're not sure that the phrasing accurately portrays how you feel about what he's shared, but it's the closest you can come to explaining it. "Though I doubt my understanding of anything means much to you."

He watches you for so long a part of you begins to doubt if he's going to respond at all. Then, in a voice so low you're not sure if he's speaking more to himself than to you, he says, "It means something."

The gentleness of the phrasing is so consuming, you can't think of anything else to say. With no warning, he turns towards the path again. "Come on, if we stay out much later your aunt might decide that you're more trouble than you're worth and send you back to the states."

The threat of being sent back to America is a little too specific. Can he see past conversations in your head? Or is that something you think about often enough for him to have picked up on it? Deciding to not risk the destruction of your fragile piece, you let go of your questions and start to walk forward.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow evening?" The question is more shocking than anything else you've experienced tonight.

You blink, a part of you more relieved than you should be about the fact that he's no longer facing you. "Uh--Besides meeting up with Louis, not really."

He nods once, "You should come to our show."

You can't think of a response. While Louis hasn't been able to keep your existence a total secret, he seems happy to be able to maintain a certain level of distance between you and the vampires he's not as familiar with. Claudia doesn't seem to be nearly as wary, but she's never asked you to attend one of their shows either.

"If the thought frightens you, you don't need to attend." Armand offers you the chance for escape with a care that's nearly insulting. "I can understand why you might find the prospect unnerving."

"I'm not afraid." You don't realize how much you mean the words until after you've said them. You're not worried about being immediately torn to pieces by the others or what you might see, but...you are a little concerned about how Louis may react to your attendance. "I just--I wouldn't want to do anything to make Louis uncomfortable."

The silence that follows nearly feels like a challenge. "I think it would be good for Louis, he can only choose to spend time with a mortal over attending our performances so many times before the others begin to question his loyalties."

That, unfortunately, does feel like a fair point. Louis's never said anything about the coven to make you worry about how your friendship impacts the ways the others view him, but from what you've gathered, the coven can't possibly take kindly to how much time Louis spends around you. Louis might be worried by the thought of you being within the coven's proximity, but at least he'd be there, too.

You nod once, hoping the motion is enough to mask any uncertainties on your end. "Okay."

"You'll sit with me." Armand turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you from over his shoulder. "It's the easiest way to keep the evening simple."

The explanation only amplifies the uneasy feeling settling in your stomach, but there's a lot of things you'd be willing to do before allowing Armand to know that you're nervous, "Okay. That makes sense."

----

armand: oh no you'll have to sit next to me all evening so that no one kills u 🫢

also keep in mind that this is a little experimental to me so pls don't judge it too harshly <33

[rockwoodchevy]

Cold

Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: after an attack by raiders, you end up lost in the dead of winter. Joel doesn't take the news very well.

Word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of death (no actual death though), some swear words

a/n: hi all! this is my first piece of Joel workings so please let me know what you think! i have some WIPs that i am excited for as well so look forward to those as well! thanks for reading!

_________________________________________________

You’re smart enough to know that the fact that you no longer feel the cold isn’t a good thing.

The shaking has stopped, so have the pins and needles in your body. Your breathing is shallow and little puffs of what seems like fog come from your mouth as you exhale. The ripped up puffer jacket on your body is no longer keeping your body heat in, the thick leggings barely helped in the first place but now helping even less with the rips. In all honesty, you’re slightly surprised that you’re still alive or at least conscious. You know that you’ve probably lost quite a bit of blood from the stab wound in your upper thigh and maybe the laceration on your head. You can’t feel if the beanie you were wearing hours ago is still there but that thing was pretty itchy anyways so you don’t necessarily mind. The only thing you can feel right now is the pressure of your body pressed against the ground, your eyes locked on the sky. What seems like thousands of stars staring back at you almost taunting you, waiting for you to join them. You can’t feel it in the slightest, but a tear rolls down your temple. It’s a beautiful way to go, numb and looking at the galaxy above your head. 

You aren’t completely positive what happened, all you know is there was a yell from one of the others on patrol behind you and suddenly you were on the ground, head ricocheting off of something, what it was you aren’t sure. It took a second to come to, but everyone was a blur. The only person you could really recognize was Jesse who was fighting off some raider. In your attempt to help him, one of them stabbed you deep in your thigh. The last thing you remember is Jesse telling you to run and you didn’t second guess his words. You took off in the first direction that you saw, running until your leg could no longer hold you up anymore. You were losing too much blood and the cold was no help. You had no idea where you were or what your surroundings were. No idea how far away Jackson was. All you knew was that you were going to die here. No warmth. No pain. 

No Joel.

God, you almost want to pray to whatever deity was listening that your body would rot away out here after you die and nobody, at least nobody from Jackson, would ever find it. You would hate for Joel to have to see you like this. You know that he isn’t a very emotional man, but good God, does he love you. You’ve heard it from multiple people in Jackson; Ellie, Tommy, Maria, even people that you have never even talked to before. You can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. You’ve never had to worry with him, knowing that you were safe, appreciated and loved every second of every day. You couldn’t bear the thought of him having to see you like this; broken down and dying if that is what this is. Knowing that he’ll be in pain once you go, that is the worst part of all of this.

What you don’t know is that Jesse spent the better part of an hour searching for you. He began panicking once the sun went down and decided he had to make his way back to the town and gather a search party. He feared having to explain to Joel and Tommy why he was alone. As he rode up to the gates on one of the horses that was spared in the fight, he could hear one of the gatekeepers yell out ‘lone rider!’ and his heart dropped. He knew that Joel waited for you after every patrol shift that you had and that he most likely heard the keeper yell. As the gate opened, he could see multiple people, including both Joel and Tommy, run out to him. While a couple of the people including Tommy helped tend to Jesse’s wounds, Joel immediately started questioning him about your whereabouts. Jesse could only babble out what he could about the raid as he broke down into tears, explaining the attack and him telling you to run so you wouldn’t get more hurt all the way up to his search for you in the surrounding wooded area. Joel’s heart fell completely out of his body, freezing as it landed in the soft pile of frosted grass beneath his feet. He didn’t hesitate to help drag Jesse back inside the safety of Jackson’s walls, not to ensure their protection but to question the hell out of him as to where he looked. Jesse told him everything he could. After Jesse was brought to the infirmary, Joel looked to Tommy who was already looking at him wearily. 

“Joel-“ Tommy began, but Joel didn’t let him finish his sentence.

”I’m going whether ya like it or not. With or without ya.” 

In 20 minutes time, a search party of about 10 people, including Tommy, Maria and Ellie, had gathered together to search for you. Joel’s heart couldn’t stop its rapid beating in his chest. Jesse told him about your hit to the head and injury to your thigh. They didn’t know the severity of them both. The party headed off in the general direction of where both you and Jesse were attacked and spread out from there. Joel started to yell out your name in hopes that you would be able to respond to it. Tommy immediately began to shush him.

”Joel, we can’t just start screaming her name out here, there could be more raiders in the area-“

”I don’t give a fuck who else is out here,” Joel interrupted Tommy. “My girl is out here and we are gonna find her tonight.”

They agreed, much to both Joel and Ellie’s dismay, that an hour-long search would happen before they would all have to retire until the next day. They all separated in 5 groups of 2. Each with weapons to defend themselves, whistles around their necks and first aid in the hopes that they could find you.

But you had already given up mentally and almost physically. You couldn't ask for better company in death than the stars. The crickets. The wind. The trees. Death would be peaceful, painless, easy. The only thing you wished was that you could say goodbye to Joel. Kiss him one last time. Hold him one last time. The only heat you’ve had in a while bursts in your chest at the thought of him. You close your eyes, the heat dissipating. 

Maybe you’re dreaming or maybe you’re just hallucinating, but you think you can hear someone calling your name. You think it could be an angel calling you home or some religious shit like that, but no, you know that voice. You open your eyes, looking back at the stars. You hear it again and another familiar voice echoes behind it. 

Tommy and Maria are here.

You could cry, out of happiness or sadness you don’t know. Happy that you could be rescued and brought back to your home, regardless of either it was Jackson or Joel. Sadness because you know that there is a bigger chance of you not making it than there is that you will, and either they or Joel will have to watch it happen. But regardless, you’re happy it was them and not Joel. 

Your name is called again, slightly closer than it was before. You know that you won’t be able to speak, to call out that you’re here, so close yet so far away it seems. You worry that if you don’t make noise soon, they’ll turn the other way and your fate will be sealed. You think fast, remembering that small handgun Joel likes to shove into your pack. You muster up all the strength that you can and search for the pack without turning your head. Feeling the zipper, you undo it and slip your hand in, feeling around until you grasp the handle of the gun. Pulling it out, achingly slow since the burn in your muscles is agonizing. Tears fall down your temples again as you hear your name once more, now further away. Using all the strength you can, you aim the gun away, cock it and shoot. The sound of it is almost deafening, the shot making your arm fly back some. That shot is all it takes.

Tommy and Maria both turn towards the sound of the shot, both of them reaching for their weapons. They’re confused when they don’t see another raider but continue towards the area. Maria gets there first, gasping and throwing herself off of her horse and falling to her knees at your side. She touches your face a few times and says something to you, but you can’t hear it through the relief that floods your brain. More tears fall as Tommy slips off his thick jacket, laying it on top of you. Maria rubs her hands along your arms to attempt to warm you as much as she can. 

“We gotta get her back to town. She’ll die out here.” Tommy says hastily. 

They both aid each other in helping to lift you up and onto Tommy’s horse. He straddles it behind you, praying Joel will forgive him for doing what he has to in order to keep you both warm and alive. He pressed his front to your back, resting his head on your shoulder and immediately began to ride back towards Jackson as fast as he could. He was speaking to you, telling you that you had to hold on, that you had to fight because he didn’t know if Joel could take another heartbreak like this. He had one hand on the reigns of the horse, the other one rubbing against your thigh to try and help you gain your heat back. His hand felt wet and he pulled it back to see it covered in crimson. His stomach churned and he attempted to get his horse to ride faster. He couldn’t let you die, Joel wouldn’t be able to come back from this. He barely came back from Sarah, he couldn’t imagine what this would do to him. 

Maria rode back towards where the party originally separated and blew her whistle as loud as she could. She did it for a few moments before turning back towards the town while still blowing it. As she left the wooded area, she could see a few of the other riding back towards Jackson as well. Mostly, she could see both Joel and Ellie riding as hard as they could back to their little sanctuary. They all reached their within the same small time frame. Maria, Joel and Ellie all stormed towards the infirmary and saw Tommy’s horse abandoned outside. Maria could see the fear in Joel’s eyes as they stormed inside, pushing past the doors and into the main room. 

Joel pushed past a few people to get to the back room that they usually keep unoccupied for emergencies. When he pushed the door open, the doctor was hovering over Tommy who had her huddled in his lap, hands gliding up and down whatever inch of skin he could reach. Joel promised himself that this was the one time he would let that slide, especially since her life depended on it. Tommy made eye contact with Joel as he stormed over to them, subtly sliding her over to Joel as he sat next to them. Joel could feel her weight press down on him and first the first time that night, the tightening in his chest loosened just a little bit. He immediately started to run his hands up and down your body through the two blankets that were tucked around you. The doctor was speaking to him, but he wasn’t listening. He called your name a few times, hoping that you could hear him. 

“C’mon, honey,” he begged, “I need you to open those pretty eyes for me. Lemme see them.”

He was practically talking to a statue, the cold almost becoming you. Joel didn’t cry very often but he figured now would be an exception. They ran down his cheeks rapidly as he held back a small sob; he couldn’t care less that Ellie, Tommy and Maria were there to see it.

”Please, baby. I need you to look at me.” He sniffled some. “I can’t do this without you. I’m so sorry; I should have been there. I should have protected you. You… you’re everythin’ to me. Please don’t go. I promise I’ll do anything as long as you stay. I won’t… I won’t make it through this.” Joel shook his head, pulling you closer to him. “I need you to stay with me. I’m beggin’ you.”

Ellie had to turn and leave, she thought she was going to be sick. Maria left with her, not wanting to interrupt this moment, whether it ended good or bad. Tommy stayed with Joel, assisting in trying to get your body heat back to somewhat normal. 

You, on the other hand, felt like you were floating. You could hear Joel’s words, the pleading in his voice, the urgency in his and whoever else’s hands were brushing up and down your skin. You thought that the stars were the perfect company in death but now, you realize that if there was something you’d want to look at as you go, it would be Joel. You wanted so badly to let him know that you were here with him, that you could hear him but your muscles were so tight, so tired. All you could get out was a deep hum from the back of your throat that you weren't sure was even your voice, you couldn’t recognize it. But Joel did, pulling you tighter against him. 

Joel turned to Tommy quickly with an urgent look in his eyes.

“You gotta leave.” He told him.

Tommy looked at him oddly. Joel shook his head.

“Body heat. She needs body heat.”

Tommy finally understood, standing and exiting the room to go and find both Maria and Ellie. The doctor excused himself as well, standing outside the room in case there was some sort of emergency. Joel wasted no time in stripping off any layer of clothing that he could get to. It didn’t take much to rip off what was left of the leggings that you wore but he struggled a bit with your jacket. He laid you down on the small bed, taking off his clothes as fast as he could; he didn’t want you away from him, worried that even a second not near you could do more harm. He laid himself on top of your body, both of you now only covered in your undergarments. He knew that you would most likely complain about the fact that we were practically naked in a public place but at this point, he couldn’t give a shit. All he cared about was making sure you stayed alive. He covered as much of your body as he could while still whispering sweet nothings into your ear, trying to get some sort of reaction from you.

It took about half an hour but your body temperature was coming up slowly. You almost wished you were still numb because the pins and needles were returning, causing some discomfort. You found your voice a little while later, moaning out of pain. The dull throbbing in both your thigh, now stitched and covered up, and your head (which surprisingly wasn’t busted open like you thought it was) was hurting. Tears developed in your eyes and for the first time that night, you could feel them running down your face. You could feel a sob rising in your chest quickly before it came out of your mouth. And though it was a sign that you were in pain, Joel was ecstatic. Because it meant that you were warm enough to feel again. 

“I know, I know honey. I know it hurts. I’ll get you taken care of.” Tears rose in his eyes. He never thought he would be excited to hear you crying, but here he was. He continued to warm your body as he held you while you cried. You genuinely thought that you were going to die out there, alone with the stars and sounds of nature. You never realized how you had taken being held by Joel for granted and boy, did he know how to hold you. 

Once you could feel your limbs again and had full control over them, you slowly lifted an arm to warm around Joel’s middle, holding you to him as tight as you could. Joel released a sob at the touch of your skin on his. Like you, Joel started to realize how he had taken holding you for granted. The world was a scary, uncertain place. Every day, people walked a thin line between life and death and today, you almost crossed it. You were both so close to never being held by each other again and Joel couldn’t handle the thought of that. 

“It’s alright, honey. I gotcha. I always have ya.”

And you believed him. Because he saved your life. 

And unbeknownst to you, you had saved his too.

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after: (im)perfect for you | l. at

part one (w/ Sungchan) | part two

pairing: Boyfriend!Anton x fem!reader

word count: 19.6k

author's note: Wrote this while listening to a lot of Ariana Grande, her new album just got me addicted. I feel like the song eternal sunshine has lots to do with reader’s memories of her relationship with Sungchan whereas imperfect for you and ordinary things perfectly encapsulate how she and Anton love each other. I also threw in some references from bed chem, by Sabrina Carpenter, for the anon who asked for it a while ago. This is for everyone who requested part 2 and some vengeance/justice for the reader. Thank you all for the kind comments and for caring so much for this story. I hope you guys enjoy this and love this couple just as much as I do! Happy Anton day! ❤

contents: Smut, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort. 10 years time jump, ex-fwb!Sungchan cameo, regretful!Sungchan. Descriptions about messed up family dynamics, depression, anxiety attacks, taking meds and going to therapy. Insecure!Anton, mention of a safe word, possessive/jealous sex turned soft in the end, Anton talks about Sungchan during sex. Vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, petnames, reader sucks Anton's fingers like 3 times. Anton (lovingly) refers to reader as a "whore" once and as a "little slut" in another instance. Supreme aftercare!!! Anton and reader are so sweetly in love it gave me tooth ache — a bunch of praise, i love you's, healthy conversations, understanding and being silly with each other. And a happy ending, YAY!

extra info: This can be read as a standalone, but you might miss some backstory + clues from the first part. for the complete experience and understanding, I recommend checking out part one.

taglist: @shotaru-o @yoursyuno @dreamiestay @tonspresso @maripositaa @strawbrryvyy @hanniehq @sushimilks @severefireangelprune @kkyiu

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like!

You’ve never been one to party much.

Although you did spend some years in college fooling around in parties and enjoying your youth, after graduation you’ve mostly stuck to bars, restaurants and small friend’s gatherings. When you finally hit thirty, the occasional affair became even more rare and you found yourself enjoying your time more inside your own home, either alone or with the ones you love.

But not tonight.

Tonight, you’re celebrating finally landing the promotion you’ve been aiming for for the past two years and you’re doing it in style. You’ve worked your butt off to get it and finally it paid off. You were already in talks with your boss for the past month about getting the higher position, but the news officially got delivered this morning and you signed the addendum to your contract in the afternoon, going over all the bureaucracies necessary so everything could be set in for next Monday. So you haven’t been able to meet your friends and commemorate it yet.

That’s why you’re currently at the most expensive nightclub in Seoul, texting your boyfriend to let him know you’ve just arrived. You send him your real-time location so he can find you inside the club and he replies saying he’s on his way. Then you move to your friends’ group chat, doing the same with them. You’ve just hit the button to send them your whereabouts, getting distracted while staring down your screen, when someone collides with you. Your arm brushes harshly against the person’s arm and some of their drink falls into your hands, also wetting your phone. You curse silently and shake your arm off, trying to get rid of the liquid as the person turns to you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” a man’s voice says. You catch his silhouette in your peripheral vision while you look down to your phone, automatically trying to clean it on the fabric of your skirt. “Oh no. Here, let me help,” he offers, resting his drink on a small circular table near you and reaching for some napkins. He grabs your phone and starts cleaning it. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

You watch his knuckles while he wipes the device clean. Once he’s done, he hands you the phone back with a couple of napkins that you gladly take.

“Thank yo—” you try to say, but your voice gets stuck in your throat as you finally glance up to look at him.

He has a gentle smile on his face, seemingly distracted and ready to reply when he gazes back at you. He also pauses for a bit while his eyes scan all over your face, with no doubt recognizing you back.

And then, with a stunned face and wide eyes, he asks, “Y/N?”

No way.

There’s no damn way you’ve just stumbled upon Jung Sungchan nearly ten years after that dreaded ending of your relationship. 

But it is him. Standing right in front of you in all his aggravating glory, at the club on the night you’re supposed to be filled with joy and nothing more.

It can only be a joke from destiny or God himself or whatever. Whoever’s the one who orchestrates the spinning wheels of your life must be having a pretty big laugh right now. And they are the only ones.

You sigh whilst you meet the soft brown orbs you haven’t seen for quite some time, feeling your heart constrict inside your chest. Looking at him, it’s hard not to get lost in awful old memories and all the trauma you already unpacked. But you decide that you won’t let this ruin your night. You’ll treat this brief encounter exactly as it is: a brief encounter. Nothing more.

As long as it ends right freaking now.

So you set your eyes hard and nod at him politely. “Sungchan,” is all you say, already moving to walk away from him. He doesn’t let you get very far, though, his hand closing over your elbow and stopping your steps.

Of fucking course he wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily. He never did before.

He seems almost suspended in the air, glancing up and down at you with his mouth slightly open while his fingers grip your skin firmly, no matter how much you try to pull your arm away. In another time, this action would drive a thrill through your spine. Right now, it only makes you feel annoyed and angry. So you rest your shoulders square and give him a pointed look. “Do you mind?” You say, looking at your arm and then back at him. 

He does the same with his eyes, glancing to your arm and then back to you. Finally clarity takes over his features and he releases you, cleaning his sweaty palm on the front of his jeans after. “Sorry. I was just shocked — I am shocked. Wow, I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s nice stumbling into you.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, choosing to give him a closed lip smile instead. “Yeah, well… I actually have to meet someone, so—”

“Wait,” he exclaims suddenly and you flinch back before he even thinks of touching you again. He notices your reaction and switches back to his normal tone. “Sorry. I just wanted to catch up with you, you know? Like, how have you been? It’s been too long.”

It should’ve been longer, is what you think. But you’re still a polite woman and would not say something like that, even though that’s the phrase burning on the tip of your tongue when you finally access him. You wouldn’t walk away from him when he so clearly wants to chat either, even though that’s what you want and what he deserves. Alas, your parents raised you well enough to at least give him a proper reply. 

“I’m great,” you say, curt and final while using the napkin still clutched in your hand to rub at the liquid he spilled on you. It smells like whisky, you realize. After cleaning yourself, you toss the crumpled napkin back at the tabletop he found it on. “You?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good,” he says, his voice wavering a little bit, high pitched and then low. Your hesitancy towards him and your little intention in staying in conversation with him is probably obvious by now and you’re sure he catches it all from your answer with how his cheeks flush and his arm goes to the back of his head to scratch at it.

Before you have a chance to make an escape again, he continues. “You look different — good different, I mean. Fuck, sorry.”

Seeing him this helpless, you can’t help the smile that forces its way on your face or the laughter that follows suit. You’ve never seen Sungchan so out of place before. He’s being so awkward, stuttering and apologizing over and over again. And it’s all because of you, for some weird reason. It’s kind of pathetic. A little endearing too, but mostly pathetic.

You cover your mouth to save some of his dignity and compel yourself to stop laughing. “Sungchan, that’s like the fifth time you apologized to me in under two minutes,” you say, giggles still bubbling on your throat. “Just be chill.”

Sungchan smiles at you, his features softening because of your laughter. “Sorry, I just—” he says, and your giggles break free again because of the new apology, interrupting him and making him laugh with you.

Once the mirth dies down, he tries again. “I guess I’m just nervous. And you’re not helping. You’re looking at me like you want me dead.”

“Well, I kinda do,” you reply back and he narrows his eyes at you like he’s analyzing if you’re joking or not. You quickly quell his worries by giving him a soft smile, deciding ultimately to take it easy on him. Keeping up the tough act would just drain your energy. It’s not worth it. “Sorry, that isn’t true. But it’s not like we ended things on good terms, so can you blame me?”

At your words, Sungchan makes a remorseful face, putting a hand on the front pocket of his pants and casting his eyes down. “I know. And it’s all my fault.” Then he looks up like he had the greatest idea in the world, gaze glinting whilst he steps closer to you. “But what if you let me buy you a drink and hopefully we end things on a better note this time?”

The end of his sentence kind of stuns you. You can’t quite believe that, after all this time, Sungchan is flirting with you. But of course he is, because it’s Sungchan. He’s showing all his telltale signs, too — bulging his arms slightly, lowering his voice, poking the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips then giving you a cocky smile, checking you out like he wants to eat you alive, his free hand hanging too damn close to yours. Unfortunately, you’ve come to know all of his tactics after falling victim to them one too many times.

His eyes are eager and hopeful whilst he waits for your response. You feel like an owner dangling a piece of meat in front of his pet, taunting him with something delicious while still not giving him anything. Finally, after all this time, you are the one in control.

But as much as your ego is being stroked, you don’t want any of this. Not anymore. And it’s been like this for a long time.

“No, thanks,” you reply simply.

Two seconds pass until he registers your answer and his smirk vanishes, the corners of his mouth turning down and self-doubt filling his eyes. He starts to say something that seems like another apology, but at that point you’re not hearing nor looking at him anymore. Because that’s when you see him.

All clad in denim and with his fresh neck-length black hair, your boyfriend is making his way through the mass of people in the club to reach you, your gazes finding each other at the same time. You instantly feel calmness seep into your veins, the slight discomfort provoked by your meeting with Sungchan vanishing and being replaced by excitement while you hold your breath until he reaches you. When he’s a mere meter away from you, you step around Sungchan to receive him.

“Hi, love,” he greets with a beautiful smile, stopping right in front of you. “I know, I’m late. Sorry, I got caught up in—”

You leap on him before he has the chance to finish his sentence, arms going around his frame, and he stumbles back because of the knock of your bodies together. He chuckles, winding his arms around your waist as you hold him closely against you, nestling your head between his neck and clavicle.

“I missed you, too,” he says with laughter still in his voice and grips you just as tightly. You bury your nose on his neck and inhale his soft woody cologne. Peace and happiness run through your whole body at rapid speed. “Fridays in the hospital are always crazy and the line to this place is insane. I’m sorry I’m late.”

You shake your head as you pull away slightly. “It’s fine, baby, you’re here now.”

That’s when you really look at him. The royal blue of his denim clothes suit his complexion and the black belt with a silver buckle around his hips compliment the look. His shirt’s sleeves are folded nicely up to his elbow, showing off his pretty forearms. Everything combined with his long hair and accessories give him a soft rocker aura that makes your mouth water. 

It’s honestly unfair how extra good-looking he looks tonight. You feel the need to pounce on him right now, but you have to settle for giving him a peck and tugging on some of his strands while standing on your tiptoes.

“You look so good,” you whisper when your lips separate.

“You look so good!” He says, his eyes moving up and down your frame. “Real damn good! You got that Shiny New Miss Editor look!”

He moves his mouth to yours again and you smile against his lips, and then he’s spinning you around in his arms. You laugh loudly, hiding your face in his neck while his hands grip your hips, your legs dangling under you. After he completes three circles, you hit on his chest and ask him to stop, getting dizzy from happiness and being whirled. He puts you on your feet back and you try to balance yourself on your legs as he holds you up, pressing multiple kisses to your face. At this point, you’re laughing so much your cheeks start to hurt.

“I’m so, so, so damn proud of you, baby,” he says in between his stream of kisses. “Congrats, my love.”

“Thank you, baby,” you reply giggling, rearing back slightly and trying to escape his lips’ attack on your face. But he just follows you, still connecting his mouth to your skin repeatedly and making you lightheaded. “Wait, baby, I can’t breathe properly.”

Only then he stops, looking down at you with a huge smile on his face. You recompose yourself, putting your hair back into place and straightening your clothes. 

When you finish, you put your hands around his neck again and mutter with sincerity, “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.”

You’re about to kiss him again, but your little bubble of joy and love pops when someone coughs just behind your boyfriend. You look over his shoulders to find Sungchan still standing there, having witnessed all of your interaction. You sigh, annoyed with him again. 

Does he ever catch a hint?

Of course, your partner, the politest person you’ve ever met, turns around to face Sungchan. The tip of his ears tinge pink at being caught by someone in such an intimate moment with you, but he quickly shakes it off to address the other man.

“Hi! Sorry, I didn’t know Y/N was talking with someone. I’m Anton, her boyfriend,” he introduces himself sheepishly and extends his free hand to Sungchan, his other arm still clinging to you by his side. You want to take a bite out of him from how cute he looks, so adorable being courteous to a stranger while still having his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

Sungchan looks at Anton’s hand for a moment before grasping it and you watch how their palms tightly press against each other, fingers bending while the veins in Anton’s forearm stand out and Sungchan’s bicep bulges slightly from the effort. It's a masculine showdown happening right in front of you. 

“Hi, I’m Sungchan. I’m Y/N’s—”

“He’s a friend from college,” you interfere, looking at Anton to explain it to him. “Back when I studied law. I’ve told you about him.”

Sungchan gives you a sly smile, finally taking his hand away from Anton’s handshake and trying to discreetly flex his fingers. “Has she told you we used to hook up, too? Because it seems like she wants to hide it from you, dude.”

A flash of anger passes through Anton's eyes and a second later it’s gone. Even though his grip around your waist tightens, he keeps cool and collected, his posture relaxed while he moves his now free hand to his pants’ pocket. “Actually, she has. Aren’t you the one who traded her over for a freshman or some dumbass move like that, dude?” He asks, holding steady eye contact with Sungchan and plastering a shit-eating grin on his face.

You snicker into your fist as you watch the arrogance flee from Sungchan’s features. He presses his lips together and drops his gaze down in dismay. Anton’s smile turns triumphal, knowing he had won the confrontation between the two of them. Then he turns to you with sweet eyes and you think it’s the hottest thing ever how he can change from harsh to tender in the blink of an eye.

“Baby, I’m going to grab you a drink while you speak with your friend, okay?” He says, rubbing your arms up and down. You plead him with your gaze to not to be left alone with Sungchan, the long time you’ve been together making it easy to talk with only your eyes, but Anton shakes his head almost imperceptibly, giving you an encouraging pat on your shoulder. “You want your usual?”

You sigh, defeated, and nod your head. “Yes, please.”

“You got it,” he says, bending down to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When Anton walks away, you finally turn to Sungchan again. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes are looking behind you, with no doubt still analyzing your boyfriend as he scurries to the bar. Only now you give yourself the chance to take him in. He looks good, in a fitted white t-shirt, black leather pants and a matching dark jacket. The same as ever. Still handsome, only older, just like you. And definitely a little bit buzzed, enough to make a move on you and irritate your usually peaceful partner.

Sugchan’s eyes jump back to you. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he says, and you half expect him to make a snide remark about Anton, but he just completes his observation with, “He seems like a good guy.”

You smile and look over your shoulders, catching a glimpse of Anton already at the end of the line to the bar. He’s pretending to scroll through his phone and stealing glances at you and Sungchan, trying so hard to seem nonchalant while simultaneously watching you like a hawk. It’s freaking adorable and you make a mental note to tease him about it later. When his eyes meet yours, he lifts his eyebrows up and mouths, “What?”. You just wink at him and turn back to the conversation with Sungchan, still smiling.

“He’s a really good guy,” you answer him.

Sungchan nods, carefully watching your reaction. “You seem happy.”

Your smile becomes bigger. “I am happy.”

His eyes tremble slightly after your reply. Then he tilts his head to the side and relaxes his posture, arms going back to his sides. “You’re a book editor now?”

You’re taken aback that he actually heard everything you and Anton talked about. You were too overcome with joy to pay attention to anything else or care about being too loud.

“Yeah. I’ve been working with Gimm-Young since graduation,” you explain. “They offered me the promotion this morning.”

He listens to you with attentive eyes, nodding his head. “I remember Sohee told me back in college that you switched majors. I was really glad for you. But, wow, now you got an editor position at a big publishing house. And while you’re pretty young, too. Congratulations, Y/N. You made it.”

You’re shocked by his praise, but you take it nonetheless. And then pieces of memories you had with him flood your mind. Back then, you talked to him about your dream, showed him some of your writing and expressed doubts and insecurity on really going for it. In turn, he listened to your worries attentively, read and praised your works and spurred you on to go for what you wanted.

You scrunch your eyebrows up and look down at your feet, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden memories. Maybe Sungchan was an asshole, but he was a supportive asshole.

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes shifting back to him again. “I remember you— You encouraged me to study Lit back then, Sungchan. It was really meaningful at the time.”

He shakes his head. “Well, I’m not taking credit for your obvious hard work, Y/N.”

“I’m not giving you credit,” you say pointedly and he laughs. “I’m just saying thanks, I guess? For hearing me and supporting me back then.”

He shakes a hand in front of him, like he’s declining your explanation. “Hey, there’s no need for that. That’s the least I could do, really. You were great back then and I’m sure you're even better now.”

“Well, maybe you’ll read one of my editing works one day,” you say with a smile.

“Maybe.” He smiles back at you. “Or one of your books. I assume you’re still writing.”

“I am,” you confirm. “But that’ll still take a while to come to fruition.”

“When it does, can your first fan hope for an invite to your first book release party?” He asks, obviously referring to himself as your first fan, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You can’t help but laugh at his antics. He’s showing the playful Sungchan you saw on occasion and the nostalgia gets to you. “We’ll see when the time comes.”

He nods with a smile. Then a beat later he’s stepping closer and the atmosphere turns serious, his sorrowful eyes gazing at you. “Y/N, I want you to know I’m very sorry for how I behaved with you back when we were together.” 

You can’t hide the astonishment on your face, being caught unprepared for this.

“I know it probably sounds like shit right now, but I cared for you. You really were special to me, even though I didn’t show it,” he barrels on. “You are a sweet girl, Y/N. You didn’t deserve what I did. I regret it every day since.”

The sincerity of his surprising words hits you right in the chest and you have to inhale deeply to prepare yourself for a response despite the shock. 

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s fine, Sungchan. I already worked everything out in therapy anyway.”

It’s the truth, you did work everything out in therapy. And despite being annoyed by meeting him tonight at first, you realize you really have no hard feelings towards Sungchan anymore. You’ve already come to the understanding that whatever happened back then, it wasn’t because of your actions, feelings or words. It wasn’t because you were undeserving of his love. He just couldn’t give it to you, for whatever personal reason he had. What happened was Sungchan’s responsibility, his guilt to carry, not yours. And, from what he’s saying, he acknowledges how carelessly he treated you and that finally puts you at peace with that chapter of your life. 

“My therapist thinks you’re an asshole, by the way,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

“Something both me and your boyfriend can agree on, too, apparently,” he says with a chuckle, balancing forwards and backwards on his feet a little. “Well, I won’t keep you from him any longer. I have to wallow in self-pity right now because I let the successful Gimm-Young editor slip from my fingers.”

You scoff, not believing his words at all. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re really sad about it,” you say ironically.

He probably has a long line of eager girls wanting to be his girlfriend, anyway. You’re just glad you’re not one of them anymore.

You stand there with him for a beat, smiling about it. Then, his gaze shifts to something vulnerable and he gulps his saliva down, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he speaks again. “So, just to be sure… If you didn’t have someone, would you still— Well, would you consider—”

You catch on to what he’s trying to ask pretty quickly and reply before he embarrasses himself further by completing the sentence. “Yup, I’d still reject you. That ship sailed a long time ago, pal.”

Because of his failed flirting attempt, you try to concentrate and search for the body reactions you used to have whenever he’d sweet-talked you in the past. But there’s no heat on your face and limbs anymore, no goosebumps on your arms, no itch in your hands from wanting to touch him, no more sweat accumulating on your hairline and no tingling on your body. It’s all gone. The only thing you feel left for him is a quiet sentimentalist from what you shared during your college days that translates into a soft but lingering pang in your heart. Nothing more.

“Okay, I just had to try,” Sungchan says with a blush on his cheeks and a glazed over look in his eyes. “I should probably go now… before your boyfriend’s eyes  actually turn into red lasers and open a hole through me.”

You look behind you one more time to see that he’s right. Anton is tapping his fingers on the bar countertop while he waits for your drink to be made, his eyes completely focused on both of you, not even pretending like he doesn’t care anymore. He does kinda look like he might commit attempted murder at any moment. You send him a kiss despite his sour face.

“I’m sure he treats you better than I ever could, anyway,” Sungchan completes.

You look back to answer him. “That’s not very hard to accomplish, but yes, he does,” you tease with a smile.

Sungchan smiles back at you. “Yeah, I deserved that one.” He sighs and shakes his head, rubbing a hand on his neck. “Thank you for talking with me. It was nice seeing you.”

“You too, Sungchan,” you reply sincerely.

He’s about to walk away, but then he halts his movements, looking at you one more time. “Oh, and Y/N? I really hope you’re happy.”

You nod and smile at him. “I really am, Sungchan.”

“Then I’m glad,” he says with finality, gazing at you one last time and starting to turn around.

However, just before Sungchan can fully spin around, your eyes catch the glimmer of a metallic chain connected in between two of his jeans’ belt loops. Beside it, in his front loop, dangles a keychain with three trinkets hanging from the same clasp — a burger charm, a soccer ball one and, if your eyes aren’t failing you, one very familiar lilac polka dotted scrunchie.

You smile to yourself after the keychain is out of your line of sight. 

Maybe you really were special to him once.

While you watch Sungchan’s retreating back, you’re taken by an abrupt feeling. It’s not the anxiety and dread you used to feel whenever he left you or the longing that always took over you. It’s something keen to relaxation and comfort, like the sense you get when you meet an old friend or are wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night. There’s a tinge of nostalgia mixed with the emotion flowing from the place right behind your chest and spreading through your limbs.

When you can’t see him anymore, you take a deep breath and think that what you’re feeling is relief.

Only when Anton comes to you again with a few of your friends in tow right after, you completely understand the emotion. With your best friends squealing around you in a circle, giving you their congratulations about your promotion, and Anton smiling at your side, looking at you as if you hung the moon and the stars in the night sky, you feel pure, absolute and unrestrained joy.

“Did you know you are the most perfect boyfriend ever?”

Anton is clearly taken aback by your sentence. He has just helped you get inside his car and buckled your seat belt for you, humming happily when you lean close to press a kiss to his cheek. After showing bewilderment, he smiles, a small blush appearing on his cheeks because of your praise. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“Thank you, baby,” he says, the smile still lingering on his lips. “You’re the most perfect girlfriend ever, too.”

He leans in to give you a quick peck, but as he backs away, you put a hand on his nape to keep him there, following his mouth with your own until your lips are pressed together again. It only lasts five seconds, but it’s enough to make you whine when he pulls away completely.

Anton laughs at you and straightens up from his bent down position, getting his upper body out of the car. He closes the passenger door carefully, then comes around to the driver’s side, opening the door to get inside. 

He’s the designated driver for tonight, choosing to opt out of drinking so you could relax and have fun with your friends while he made sure you were safe and back home without any scratches. Being the perfect boyfriend that he is, of course he made sure your friends would get home safe, too, calling them a cab on his own phone and waiting it out with you until their taxi arrived before getting you both inside his car.

Once he’s buckled in, he turns the key in the ignition and the car springs to life. He gives you a soft smile before turning on his blinkers to safely enter the lane. In no time, you’re on the road to your home and your hands are tangled together over the center console.

“You want to stop by somewhere to grab food?” He asks after a while.

You shake your head. “I don’t feel hungry right now. Can we order in later?”

“Of course, baby.” He looks over to you for a brief moment before fixating his eyes back on the road, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, after four years of dating, I found out something new about you today.”

“Oh, did you?” You reply, leaning onto his teasing words. “What is it?”

“You’re a party girl,” he states accusingly, making you laugh.

“What? No, I’m not,” you say, trying to be firm and serious, but your words get interrupted by a giggle. You scrunch up your nose because of your own mistake. 

Anton just chuckles at you as he makes a turn on a street. “Tell that to the four shots you downed today, babe.”

You squint your eyes, pinching his wrist lightly, and he gives you a little groan. “Hey, I was celebrating today! Can’t a new promotee have a few shots?”

His eyes glint while he tightens his hold on your hand. “Yes, you can, love. I’m just teasing.”

“Well, don’t tease me, Anton.” You scrunch your eyebrows up and make a frown, pretending to be angry. “It’s my promotion day. You’re not allowed to tease me!”

“Sorry, Miss Editor, I forgot. No teasing for today, got it,” he says, letting your hand go to make a fake army salute. You laugh and squeeze his bicep in reprieve, and he chuckles with you.

“You’re a menace,” you say, letting him take your hand in his again just as the car slows down to stop at a traffic light.

You take the moment to pull his hand to your lips, pressing soft kisses on his knuckles as your eyes meet his. “Thank you for being with me today, baby,” you whisper over his skin and you smile to yourself when goosebumps rise in his forearm. “And for taking care of me and my friends.”

Anton moves the hand you’re kissing to your face, rubbing his fingers over your cheekbone, and you lean into his touch. “Of course, baby. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I love you so much,” you confess as you start to drop kisses into his open palm now, your lips lingering a bit too long over the tip of his thumb.

“I love you, my girl,” he says, pinching your cheek.

You wish you could do more to show him how much you actually appreciate him being who he is. But the light on the stoplight turns green and you have to reluctantly stop yourself from touching him a little more boldly over road safety. You’ll have plenty of time to make him feel loved once you get home.

You roll your window down and tilt your face towards the chilly wind as you think about how you really did hit the jackpot with Anton. You’ve met him at your job, while you were working in a book launch party from one of your company’s authors, helping out the social media crew that was currently short-staffed and busy.

In your position as an assistant editor, you’ve worked pretty closely with the author launching her book before. Your chief editor trusted you completely and let you bounce ideas back and forth with her, so you knew each other pretty well. Anton was the author’s cousin and when she introduced you to him at the release party, there was buzzing excitement in her eyes. She told you how he was a Korean-American that moved back to Seoul with his brother for medical school. Currently in his last year of college, he had been studying nonstop to get his professional license after it, so he needed a night off to relax and that’s why she ended up inviting him to the party. He had on a nice white jacket that complimented his thick shoulders and when he talked with you, you couldn’t help but be somewhat captivated by such a soft voice coming out of such a broad body, his cute accent making him even more adorable.

Later that night, when the party was already fizzling out and your body started to hurt from standing on high heels for too long, he approached you again. When you complained about the ache on your feet, he found a free chair for you to sit on. And when you laughed about something he said, he asked for your number. He looked too damn cute bouncing up and down between his two long legs while you typed your digits on his phone. And after your contact was saved, he pressed call so you could have his number, too.

When a colleague called you to help with something else, Anton pouted adorably because you had to go so soon. Before you went away, the tip of his fingers brushed against yours for a brief fleeting moment and he made a promise to contact you soon. The next morning, you woke up with a text from him on your phone, asking what type of food you enjoyed so he could take you out on a date.

It took a few dates and a couple of sincere conversations about both of your expectations in a relationship before you and Anton made it official. Since the beginning, he never let his intentions be misunderstood. From the first date, he made it very clear he was interested in you as a whole person, not parts of you. He didn’t want to have your body if he didn’t get to have your soul either. He has taken you seriously since then. After the fifth time you went out together, you brought him home with you. You still remember the image of him hovering above you, cheeks and neck flushed while he stared at you deeply, telling you in the softest voice ever how he wanted you to be his girlfriend. He made you feel secure, the sincerity in his tone helping you to never doubt his words. And when he used that same feathery intonation of his to coax out of you the most powerful orgasm you ever had in your life, you were done for. You wholeheartedly handed yourself out for him and he did the same right back.

You’re together for almost five years now and Anton has been with you through thick and thin. He deeply enjoyed the sheer joy in your mom’s face when you brought him up to meet your family. She kept going on and on about how tall and good-looking and young and amazing your doctor boyfriend was. Nothing you ever did in your life before made her as happy as introducing him as your partner and it felt nice seeing him being appreciated by your loved ones. Either way, whenever your family dinners took a turn and your father would try to convince you to study law again and become a judge like him and your mother would make poisonous comments about the amount of food on your plate, all while your sister boasted about her successful career as a lawyer, taking occasional jabs at you for giving up on it, Anton rubbed circles on the back of your hand under the table, soothing the ache he knew you felt about not being understood by your own flesh and blood, showing that he understands and sees you better than anyone.

Anton was with you during your grandfather’s funeral and one month after it, when your little dog died unexpectedly of a quiet illness. He hugged you and listened to you as you sobbed and babbled on for hours about how unfair death was. When your eyes became red and your throat sore, he wrapped you up in a blanket and held you firmly until you slept.

He was beside you during your depressive slumps, letting you sleep your exhaustion out for how long you needed to and not pressing you on about it, having food ready and plated for you when you woke up. When you made a mild mistake during work and got afraid of being fired, he encouraged you to talk to your boss and fix the problem, helping you come up with a plan to gain back her trust again. He was also with you when your brother married one of your best friends and when they told you they got pregnant. When you were announced as the child’s future godmother, he cried tears of happiness with you.

Anton bragged about you during his family dinners, telling his parents how brave you were for changing career paths and accomplishing so much in so little time and mentioning how he hoped his little brother would find a partner as amazing as you. He made sure your relationship with his parents was as lovely and safe as possible and you are constantly doted on by his family because of it.

Three months after your psychiatrist dosed down on your depression meds, he prepared you a homemade dinner and told you how proud he was of you for battling such a devious disease and pushing through despite all of your struggles.

And when he got anxiety attacks during his time studying for the surgery residency program, you taught him your methods to push through them and made him an appointment with your doctor. You were beside him, helping him work through his fears and the tension. When he got in the program, you were the first person he called. And he was also the number one on your call list when you got your promotion earlier today.

Whenever his sinusitis would flare up, you were also the one by his side, watching on his health, making sure he took his meds, making him tea and helping him with nebulizing.

Sometimes, when your bad thoughts get the best of you, you feel like you don’t deserve him. You think he’s too good to be true, that he does more for you than you do for him and that he’ll grow tired of it and drop you like so many have done in the past. On times like that, Anton always tells you he’s the lucky one for having you on his side and the sincerity dripping from his lips and eyes always scare your doubts away. You believe in him even when you don’t believe in yourself. He makes you see how you bring out the best out of each other. And when any of you are feeling down, you both always feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable.

There’s no pressure to be perfect with Anton. You can make mistakes and try again how many times it takes. And he does the same. Despite you seeing him as a pretty perfect man, Anton also messes up, like any normal human being. And you do the same. Over and over and over again.

Sometimes you speak with him a little too roughly. Or he gives you the silent treatment when things don’t go his way. Or you wake up in a bad mood and take it out on him. Or, on the same day, he forgets to take out the trash from your shared place and you arrive late to an important work dinner of his. You argue and get mad and upset like any other couple. But each time it happens, you talk it out. And he never leaves you alone in your relationship struggles, always meeting you halfway to solve the matter.

The thing is you accept each other, the good and the bad and the in-between. No feelings or thoughts are invalidated or dismissed. He makes you confident and comfortable in your own skin. And you like to think you do the same for him.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome and jacked, too, his swimming career in school building up his muscles nicely to the man he is today. That’s what you’re thinking about while he takes the final turn to enter your apartment building, parking the car on his spot with one hand on the steering wheel and the other one still gripping yours tightly, attentive eyes checking the car mirrors.

His shirt hangs nicely on his body and the two top buttons under its collar are undone, showing his clavicle and a hint of his chest. You lick your lips and breathe through your nose deeply, trying to settle the buzz deep in your belly while you admire him. When he’s done parking, he catches his jacket and your purse on the backseat and gets out, making his way to open your door and offering you his hand to help you out of the car. You grab it and step out carefully. Once you’re securely out of the car, he closes your door and rests his jacket over your shoulders, helping you to slip your arms through the sleeves. Then, with your purse still over his arm, he locks the car and grips your hand, leading you both on the walk to the lobby to call for the elevator.

You squeeze his hand with both of yours and lean your head onto his arm while you wait for the lift, appreciating his presence, warmth and attention. 

“I’m glad you had fun today, baby,” he whispers and you tilt your head up to find his eyes already searching for yours.

You smile at him. “So much fun. I’m so happy, Anton.”

His eyes shine seeing the true joy exuding from your body. “If my girl is happy, I’m happy.”

His admission makes you want to get closer, so you turn to stand in front of him, tugging slightly on his shirt collar to get him to bend down over you. “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?” He asks, an eyebrow shifting slightly up.

“For being happy for me and with me. For celebrating with me today,” you say, looking deep into his eyes.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, baby,” he whispers while his arms cross over your waist, pressing your body against his. “I want to celebrate this and so much more with you.”

“Yeah?” You mutter back, getting on your tippy toes as you watch him with hooded eyes. “Like what?”

He slides one hand up to rub your face, pulling you in to speak over your cheek. “Like when you get the editor-in-chief position next.” He drops a kiss on your cheekbone and moves his lips to your jaw next. “And when I finish my residency.” A new kiss is laid on your chin and another one on the corner of your mouth. “Then our engagement, our wedding…”

“Ahh, so you do plan on proposing,” you tease, leaning back to get your face out of reach from his lips. “It’s taking so long I’m starting to think you’re just stringing me along.”

Anton tightens his hold on your waist. “Stop it, you know I’m planning on it.” He moves his free hand to your nape to pull you close again, his lips one more time landing on your cheek. “You’ll just have to wait and see. It will be perfect. You’ll bawl your eyes out.”

“With how easy you get emotional, I think you’ll be the one bawling, Tonie,” you say, pulling on his hair a little while he rasps his teeth on the side of your neck.

“Oh, for sure,” he says, his voice muffled by his lips constantly pressing on your skin. “We’ll both be crying messes once the ring is on your finger.”

You chuckle at him and pull his head back to look at him, watching his mouth become an adorable pout at being denied kissing you more. “I can’t wait for this mysterious proposal, then.”

Anton’s pout turns into a wide smile. “I can’t wait to wife you up.”

You smile back at him, the thought of being his wife, of calling him your husband sending butterflies flying in your stomach.

The elevator finally arrives then, and you both get inside. Anton presses the number for your floor and slumps against its wall before the lift begins to move up, his arms settling around you and pressing you to his body again. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press a kiss onto his clavicle, making him groan, his hips instinctively moving forward to press against yours.

“Aren’t you eager today?” You mutter, looking up to find a flush creeping onto his cheeks. “What has gotten into you?”

“You’re just so happy right now. And I want to make you even happier.” He holds you flush against him while he nuzzles his nose against yours. “Wanna make you feel so good…”

“Oh.” You press your lips to his quickly, smoothing your thumbs on the sides of his neck. “I’d like that very much.”

“Plus, I’ve been thinking about something…” he says, gaze holding yours steady, building tension.

“Thinking about what?” You whisper, the expectation blooming on your chest.

Anton doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves his face to drop kisses on your shoulder, his nose skimming under the jacket so his lips can reach your skin. He trails a path of kisses from your right shoulder until the place under your right ear, nibbling on your lobe while you whine. That’s when he finally replies, his breath blowing over the damp skin he just kissed, “Thinking about being a little possessive tonight, a little harsh…”

His words make your breathing heavy and warmth spread through your body. You tug on his hair, your mind getting dazed from his teasing. “Like, you wanna be mean?”

He shakes his head and places his hand on your face, stroking your cheekbone. “Not mean. Just taunt you, mess with your mind a little.”

“Oh,” you whimper, pressing your thighs together while mulling it over your mind, remembering all the times he teased you in bed and how it always made you feel. “I like it when you do that.”

“I know you do, baby,” he whispers, moving his mouth to your jaw. “You always get so—”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice a little high pitched, suddenly feeling self-conscious of being this close to him and thinking dirty things in the elevator. You can only hope there’s no audio on the camera by the corner that’s aimed directly at you both.

You hide your face on Anton’s neck and he snickers at you. “So, you’re up for it?”

You nod, the embarrassment shining red on your cheeks and heating your skin. “Sure, let’s do it.”

Anton rests his chin on top of your head and digs his fingers on your hips as he squeezes you against him. “If you dislike something, you remember the word, right?”

“Pineapple,” you say against his skin, reciting your safe word to him so he knows you remember.

“Good girl,” he purrs, tightening his grip on you.

When the elevator finally dings and its doors open on your floor, you and Anton both scramble up to get to your apartment as fast as possible.

As you type the code for your door, you think about how the night was fun enough until now. You drank cocktails, danced to songs, hugged your friends, screamed your lungs out in happiness and enjoyed your time. It was really really good. But there’s only one thing left to end this perfect day, one thing left to take the fun to the next level. It’s the one thing that’s been nagging at your mind, body and soul the whole time you were at the nightclub. The only thing you can think about after that spicy elevator ride — having Anton all to yourself.

So when the both of you cross the threshold of your place and take your sneakers off and your purse is out of Anton’s hand, you corner him into your entry door, kissing him fervently, slipping his jacket off your body and dropping it to the ground. Anton responds in kind, pressing his lips to yours just as hastily. When your tongue traces his bottom lip, he opens his mouth for you to invade it with, and when you stroke his tongue, he groans.

“You look so fucking good today,” you whisper on his lips, your fingers deftly undoing his shirt buttons. “I wanted to jump your bones the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

“You look so beautiful too, baby,” he mutters back at you, complimenting you with his soft-spoken voice and gentle demeanor.

Your sweet, loving, kind man. You love him so much. 

When you kiss him again and your nails scratch over the exposed skin of his chest, he moans, sliding his hands down your ass and pressing your body against his. You gasp from the feeling of his dick already twitching and fully erect inside his pants, your mouth opening up in surprise. He takes the moment to kiss you again, licking the inside of your mouth and biting your bottom lip, pulling on it a little before releasing it.

“I kept thinking about being inside you the whole time we were out, too,” he says with his lips over your neck, nipping on your pulse point. He licks the place and speaks against the moistness, making your skin jump. “I’m gonna fuck you so good today, Miss Editor.”

Your filthy, dirty, hot man. You love him so much.

You whimper from his words, trembling hands trying to finish unbuttoning his shirt. Before you can, Anton is lifting you up on his lap, and you yelp in surprise. You both giggle as he strides towards your bedroom and supports you with his hands on your ass, but you give up on laughing in favor of kissing him again, your lips becoming moist with spit. You don’t know how Anton manages to find your room while he keeps kissing you, but in just a few seconds he’s laying you over your silky sheets.

You stretch on the bed, moving further back until you’re positioned in the middle. Anton stands in front of you while he opens the rest of his shirt and you watch as more of his skin is revealed. After he’s done with it, he unbuckles his belt and opens his fly, showing the bulge under his boxers. You lick your lips at the sight.

He leaves his pants on, though, and kneels on the bed, crawling over until he reaches you. You sit up to run a hand on his front, from his chiseled pecs to his taut abs until it stops on his happy trail on his lower stomach.

He bends down to kiss you and your arms go around his shoulders to pull his shirt away from him completely. Anton helps you slide the fabric off his arms and once you throw it on the floor, his hands are pulling up your top over your head, your shirt also being off in an instant. Then he’s pressing his body on yours and laying you back on the mattress.

“God, would you look at you,” he says once your head is resting on the pillows, tracing a hand over your stomach and raising goosebumps over your skin, eyes shining while he looks at your chest. “So fucking pretty. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

There’s a reverent and low tone to his voice that always turns your insides into mush on moments like this. You press your legs against each other from the praise and tighten your grip on his shoulders, trying to kiss him one more time to show how much you appreciate it, but Anton rears back slightly, his eyebrows shooting up and eyes encouraging you to say what he wants to hear. 

“I’m all yours, Tonie,” you say with heavy breathing and he smiles approvingly. “Only yours.”

“Yeah, baby?” He mutters, his hand covering your boob over your bra. You gasp while he squeezes your flesh. “Seeing your past fling today didn’t confuse you? You didn’t think about leaving me for him, did you?”

It’s like a bucket of icy cold water is thrown on you. Anton’s words shock you to the core and you look at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Thinking about being a little possessive, he said. You never thought it would show up like this, though. You played with jealousy in bed before, of course, but it was always with creative scenarios — celebrities, fictional characters, strangers in the street, unnamed imaginary people. The line was drawn at real people in your life. You’ve never considered using any of your exes, friends or close acquaintances.

But Anton is changing that now by talking about Sungchan and your meeting with him earlier. And you know him well enough to decipher his words and body language, to know that he’s jealous. For real. 

Even though he has no reason to be.

Honestly, Sungchan was the furthest thing from your mind all night, your encounter with him long forgotten while you had the time of your life with Anton and your friends. You can’t quite believe your amazing boyfriend is actually insecure about it. But he is.

You blink up at him, still stunned to silence, and Anton sighs, annoyed by your lack of response. “Did you, love?” He asks again, squeezing your breast a little harder. 

The action springs you to life. “I— No, no, baby. Not at all,” you stutter out as he pulls down the lacey cup of your bra and circles his forefinger around your areola. “What made you— shit, what made you think that?”

Anton pinches your nipple then, making you arch your back and moan. ”I just think you spent too much time talking. Seemed like you were having fun, too, smiling and flirting with him.” He ends his sentence with another press on your nipple, harder than the last one, rolling the bud in between his thumb and forefinger to soothe the ache right after whilst you pant under him.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you defend yourself quickly. “I mean, he was flirting, but I didn’t—”

“Oh, was he, baby?” He asks, eyebrows going up. “And how did you respond to his flirting?”

Anton’s eyes are dark, hooded and lust-filled while he waits for your answer. There’s something about the jealousy and possessiveness he’s exuding that makes you whimper, feeling the release of more arousal into your panties. He looks so fucking hot. But you can’t have him thinking that you would trade him for Sungchan. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“I rejected him. I’m with you and he saw it. I told him how happy you make me,” you stutter. Anton just looks at you, analyzing your words in silence. It fills your heart with desperation. “Baby, I didn’t even think about him after that, I promise.” You reach your hands towards his face, but he remains out of reach, making you paw at the air. “There’s no reason to be jealous, Anton.”

He scoffs at you, tweaking your nipple one more time while his other hand goes around your chin, gripping it tightly. You moan loudly at the action and his thumb starts to trace over your areola again when he speaks. “I’m not jealous.” He hovers above you again and presses his nose to yours, looking down your eyes. “But he sure seemed like he was, talking shit about you two hooking up in the past. Like he had the right to act territorial over you when you’re my girl.”

“Baby, I don’t want to talk about him now,” you plead, your words coming out jumbled from the way he’s now pressing his fingers on your cheeks. At seeing your struggle, he loosens his grip a little and you’re able to speak better. “Please, let’s just—”

“So, what more did you tell him about me?” He asks, purposely interrupting you and ignoring your plea at the same time.

“I told him you’re amazing. And that you treat me so well, that I love you so much,” you babble out, mind racing trying to remember everything you said.

“Hmmm, and what else?” He says, his face still so close to yours.

”What do you mean, what else?” You gulp down, looking up at him.

Anton softens at your question, smoothing his fingers over your features and kissing on your pulse point. Then he descends, sucking on the upper part of your boob, tongue slipping out to flick your nipple. “I mean, did you tell him about this?” His hand moves to your other breast, still bra covered, blunt nails scratching the fabric down so his thumb can press on your nipple. “Or about this?”

Fuck. Anton wants you to lie.

Actually, he wants you to pretend like you’ve told Sungchan about your sex life, that Anton’s so good at it you boasted about his skills to your past affair. What he wants is an ego boost, to know that he’s still the only one that gets to have you like this. So much so that you needed to tell your ex how he makes you his.

It’s a little crazy. And adorable. And fucking hot.

“I did,” you whisper and Anton purrs on your neck, his hips grinding down on yours. “I told him how you always make me feel so good, how your fat cock stretches me just right.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, sinking his teeth on your skin. You tug on his hair while bucking your pelvis up to meet his. You love the way he melts into you so easily, how just a little praise gets him weak, even when he’s the one in control. It always makes you confident.

“I told him I’m too obsessed with how you fuck me to ever think about leaving you, baby,” you whisper in his ear, one hand going down to press on his ass so he can drive his hips down harder, the stimulation on your clit over all the clothes getting to you. “And that I’d never trade you for him, not in a million years.”

After that, Anton kisses you with so much force your teeth clash together. But you don’t care about it, letting him kiss you while you grip on his shoulders and press on his back so he keeps grinding down on you. You only break for air when he unfastens your bra, going right back into kissing him while he slides the straps down your arms and takes the button of your skirt out of its loop.

Anton pulls back to tug on the bottom of your skirt and you help him out by pulling your waistband down and wiggling your hips until the item is out of your body. You’re almost laid bare before him and he rests a firm hand on your lower stomach while he drinks you in, his other hand reaching up to cup your breasts, one after the other and then back again. You see his dick jump inside his underwear as his eyes devour you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you’re like this for me,” he says and you moan at him, hands trying to coax him back into putting his weight on you. “My perfect girl with her perfect body,” he praises, his free hand going up your body until his fingers meet your lips. He doesn’t need to command you to take them. You do it willingly, opening your lips to suck on his index and middle fingers greedily. Anton hums in approval. “Perfect mouth and tongue.” He pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves them over to your right boob, brushing wetness on your areola before moving to your left one and doing the same. “Perfect tits.” He slides his hand down still, navigating it through the valley between your breasts and the plush flesh of your stomach until it brushes over the waistband of your panties. He caresses over the top of the fabric, and you try not to whimper pathetically or squirm too much. Then, he finally slips his hand in between your legs, cupping your cunt harshly over your underwear. “And perfect pussy.”

“Baby, please,” you moan out. “Please touch me.”

He snickers at your desperate state, but hooks his fingers on the sides of the elastic band and pulls them down. You release a deep breath when the underwear is finally off you and another one when Anton’s hands go back to your body. “Fuck, imagine if Sungchan could see you right now, love,” he says, his right hand coming back to one of your nipples to pinch it again as his left one strokes the inside of your thighs. “If he could watch how much of a pathetic mess you get for me. So fucking desperate.”

“Anton,” you moan as his hand inches closer to your heat and he presses his palm on your left thigh to separate it from your right one, spreading you open before him.

“I wish he could hear how pretty you sound while you whimper my name like that, baby,” he says, moving his free hand to your bottom lip again and tapping on it. You open up, taking three of his fingers into your mouth now, licking over them and sucking on them. He presses his digits deep, reaching for your throat and you gag on them, but still don’t let him pull them from your mouth, closing your hands over his wrist to keep them there. “I wish he could watch you suck on my fingers and gag on them just like that, my perfect girl.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth as fast as he slipped them in, getting his hand out of your hold and moving his damp digits to your pussy. You almost let out a squeal when he rubs on your clit, spreading your legs further apart for him. You look at his face while he watches the movements he makes on your cunt, his other fingers rubbing over your folds as his thumb keeps pressing on the nub on top of it. “I wish he could see how wet you are right now. You’re going to soak our sheets, love.”

You bite on your lip, gripping the sheets and planting the soles of your feet on the mattress while he remains kneeled in between your legs bringing you pleasure. “It’s your fault. You always get me so wet. I’ve been like this since the elevator.”

“Hmmm, I know, baby,” he mutters appreciatively, eyes glued to the juices sticking to your cunt, his fingers noisily working over you. “You’re so naughty. Can’t help getting horny for me anywhere, right?”

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek now, moving your hips slowly with the movements from his hand. “Yeah. I want you all the time.”

“Fuck,” he groans and you see his dick jumping against the wet patch forming on his underwear. “I think Sungchan would love seeing how much of a whore you become for me.”

“Just for you, baby,” you affirm between moans.

Anton’s gaze slides up to yours again whilst he starts to massage over your hole, the jealousy in it now fizzling out, leaving behind shiny heart-eyes for you. “Yeah, just for me. He can’t have all of that anymore, baby. He can’t see you or touch you or hold you or hear you or fuck you. Only I can, right?”

“Yes,” you groan, bucking your hips up when he finally slips one digit inside you, your walls contracting over it. “Only you can, baby. I’m your girl.”

“You’re my girl,” he repeats, adding another finger inside, making your head spin. “My perfect girl, I’m going to ruin you.”

Anton puts his free hand beside your head and hunches down so he can press his forehead against yours while his other hand keeps working your pussy slowly open. His long thick fingers plunge deep inside of you and it’s crazy how easy they slip in and out, your wetness making the slide smooth, even when he starts to make scissor motions and bending his knuckles.

“Anton,” you moan, touching his neck and trying to keep your eyes open to look at his flushed face. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He says with a sly smile, getting his fingers completely out of you at the same time to run over your pussy lips, making you whine in frustration from being empty again. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I like how your fingers reach so deep inside me,” you grumble, trying not to close your eyes when you feel him grazing over your clitoris again. “Your cock, too. You’re so fucking big all over.”

“You like that I’m big?” He asks, rubbing little circles on your clit. 

You nod, scratching the nape of his neck to release some stress as he keeps teasing you. “I was afraid you wouldn’t fit the first time. But like I said, you always get me so wet.” 

“I do, don’t I?” He whispers, a sleek smile on his lips, focused eyes watching your every reaction to him.

His hands descend again, looking for your entrance, and you mewl when he finds it, his digits shallowly stroking it. You bite your bottom lip before replying to him. “You do. You’re so patient with me, too. I love how attentive you are.”

“Awww, sweet girl,” Anton coos, mocking your frenzied state, his lips curving up. “All of that praise just because you want me to finger you properly?”

You chuckle at his words. Of course he can read you like an open book. He always can.

You pull his mouth to yours to press a lingering peck on his lips, your hips grinding up to look for more friction. “I mean what I said,” you state over his lips, giving him pleading eyes. “But doesn't your sweet girl deserve a reward for inflating your ego?”

He snickers and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Of course you do, baby.”

Then he’s inserting two of his fingers inside you again, the stretch making you open your mouth in a big ‘O’ and squeeze his shoulders. He’s still relaxed with it, delicately rubbing your walls, slowly bringing you pleasure.

He kisses the moles on your shoulder and you crane your neck to the side, silently asking for more smooches on your skin. He chuckles and follows your silent request, pressing his kisses on your neck and clavicle.

“I love giving you what you want, baby,” he whispers, his thumbnail grazing under your clitoris. “You look so good taking it.”

You try so hard concentrating on what he’s saying, but the pace of his fingers inside you is slow and deliberate, making you dizzy with want, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You’re so good to me,” you reply after a beat passes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he confesses back, his lips now on your right boob.

He keeps kissing you and licking every part of your body his mouth can reach, sucking on your skin and marking you all over. When his kisses travel down your stomach, his fingers start to curl up in your pussy, and you hitch a breath when he comes face to face with it. He presses his free hand down on your lower belly and looks up to see your hazy eyes focused on him. He smirks, adding a third finger and you feel more juices coming out of you, enveloping his fingers in a slick mess. 

He looks down again, now laser-focused on your heat. “My baby’s got such a pretty pussy. I love to watch you from here.”

“Just watch?” You ask, your voice already hoarse from moaning.

He cocks his head to the side, as if he has no idea what you mean. “Why, baby? You want me to do something else?”

You move a hand to his face, thumb rubbing his cheek while your other fingers press on his neck, trying to get him closer to your cunt. He resists you easily, your hold on him being too weak in the state you're in.

“Anton,” you groan, giving him puppy eyes again. “Please.”

He sets his eyes firm on yours. “Ask for what you want with your words and I’ll give it to you, baby.”

“I w-w-want,” you stutter, your breath coming out ragged. “I want your mouth.”

“Where?”

You expel a frustrated sigh before replying. “On my clit, please.”

“You got it, babe.”

You’re expecting him to lick at your bud, but Anton surprises you by enveloping his whole mouth around it and suctioning hard.

“Oh my fuck,” you moan, hips bucking up as he combines speeding his fingers inside you and sucking on your clit with an enthusiasm that has you seeing stars. You try opening your legs more to feel it all and give him space, and he follows your cunt in every wiggle of your body.

“Sweetest pussy ever,” he says after retreating a little. “Can’t get enough of your taste, baby.”

Then he’s back at it, licking up at you, swift and strong strokes of his tongue going from your entrance to your clit and slurping up your juices. You squeeze his neck and move your hand up the top of his head to ruffle his hair and tug on his strands, earning a groan from him that vibrates through your whole body.

You move your free hand to grab at his forearm pressing on your belly. He looks up at you and grabs your hand, his fingers slipping on the space between yours. He moves both of your hands to press on your body again, bending his wrist up to keep your palms connected as his veins become prominent from the force he’s applying, making him even hotter. You ground yourself with his hand on yours, feeling his affection enveloping your body and soul.

You love when he eats you out just like this — hungry eyes gazing directly at you, hand linked with yours, messy hair from your pulls and a skilled experience years of getting to know your body gave him. It always makes you feel close to him and also never fails to drive you crazy.

He goes back to sucking at you in rough and messy intakes and the fingers inside you start to move deeper and harder. You lose eye contact, resting your head against the pillows as a prolonged moan of his name makes its way out of your lips. When it subsides into hoarse whimpers and cries, you begin to feel the bed shake and look down again. You see Anton is rutting his hips on the space in between your legs, jolting both of you with every one of his thrusts. The movement somehow helps with the feeling of his fingers inside of you, making them quicker and sharper, and you scratch on his shoulder from how good it all feels.

Anton catches your gaze again and tightens his hold on your hand, rearing back to lay kisses on your thighs while he speaks to you. “I’m so damn hard for you, baby.”

You press your nails on his skin again, probably leaving marks. Thinking about his hard dick and how his thrusts on the sheets could be inside you has you trembling with want. “I want it, Tonie. Need your thick cock inside me so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you after you cum for me one time, okay?” He asks, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“Yeah, okay,” you breathe out, nodding at him.

He nips the inside of your left thigh. “You’re feeling good, right?”

You nod again, neck straining from the sensations moving through you. “So good. You’re so good at this, fuck.”

He gives your other leg the same attention, rasping his teeth on your skin. “You close?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Hmmm,” he ponders for a bit. Then he shifts his wrist slightly and bends his fingers in your cunt, finding that spongy spot inside you. “What if I do this?”

Your mouth hangs open in a hoarse moan, hips lifting up on instinct, trying to meet his hand. “Tonie, shit, that’s it. Please don’t stop.”

“Found it,” he whispers to himself, a smirk playing on his lips.

Anton’s mouth comes back to your clit, sucking and licking on it nonstop while he keeps his knuckles crooked inside you, driving his fingers in with more force and speed each time they slide out. He presses down your lower belly with more vigor, putting some of his weight into it, and you start to feel the crushing pleasure from inside and out. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, so you close your thighs on his head and hand, rest your feet on his shoulders and swivel your hips to the best of your ability given the force he’s applying on you, trying to meet his frantics movements, looking for more friction, more satisfaction, just more.

The noises become louder and harder to ignore, driving you to insanity. The squelching sounds from his fingers and your wetness, the slippery suction of your intimate flesh, the creaking of the bed, Anton’s soft groans pulsating through you, the rustling of the sheets, your own moans and whimpers coming out broken.

There’s sweat on Anton’s forehead and you brush his hair back, giving you a perfect view of his shiny black eyes and how he’s devouring you whole. Not only his fingers and mouth, but his mind and soul are working intently to get you to your high.

Your pussy starts to flutter around his digits, gripping them and sucking them in. You feel your muscles straining, tensing and relaxing repeatedly, twitching under your skin. Your legs are shaking, your fingers on Anton’s hair and hand trembling, your throat producing incoherent sounds and a familiar churning growing on your core.

You’re sure you can feel each one of your boyfriend’s three fingers rubbing at your walls, prodding at the sweet place deep inside you, when you become restless. Your impending orgasm creeps up on you unexpectedly, fast flames licking at your ankles, knees and elbows and spreading like wildfire to your limbs and torso, blowing your mind.

Then you feel it. The way your stomach contracts against Anton’s hand, how the weight over it is almost unbearable, a crushing presence urging you to peak. It makes you panic, hand gripping over Anton’s hand so hard your knuckles turn white and your nails dig into his skin.

“Baby, baby, wait, I’m—” You try to warn, but it’s too late. You’re cumming, your orgasm wrecking through your body and a clear and short stream of liquid pouring out of you and hitting your boyfriend on the chin. You’ve just squirted.

You’re instantly ashamed, covering your face with your hands, but Anton is unaffected by it. He just withdraws his face from your cunt, pins one of your legs to the bed and keeps pressing his fingers deep inside you, his thumb replacing his lips and moving messy and loud circles on your clit. Through the crack in between your fingers, you see his tongue poking out and licking down his chin and lips, his eyes set on your pussy, still trying to bring you the utmost pleasure.

He works you for a moment while your orgasm courses through you, and when the flames finally subside, you move your hand to push on his wrist, while tears brim your eyes and your jaw and throat hurt from all the moaning. Only then he pulls back completely, sitting on his haunches, resting his hands over his thighs and watching your chest heaving and the red flush all over your skin.

“I knew you’d soak our sheets,” he says, voice soft and frazzled.

You whine, closing your legs in embarrassment and pressing the heels of your hands on your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Your gargled words have Anton touching and hovering over you again, rubbing at your ankle and kissing your hip bones, one after the other. “Hey, hey, none of that, please.” His hand moves up to your waist and he trails a thread of kisses on your whole stomach. “You always look so sexy when you do that, baby.” He smooths his palms on your elbows, coaxing you to open up so he can see your face. “I wanted you to do it. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

You just whimper again, not loosening up to the pressure of Anton’s hands. 

He moves his hands to yours, rubbing on your knuckles. “Come on, baby. Let me see your pretty face all red.” He places a kiss on your left shoulder. “Wanna kiss you, please.”

You reluctantly pull your hands away, but you press your left cheek on the pillow so he can only see your profile. He chuckles and cradles your face on both of his hands, moving your head straight so he can see you clearly.

“There you are,” he coos, his thumbs swiping at the tears collected on your waterline. “Hi, love.”

You give him a pout and look down. “Hi.”

“Look,” he starts, voice soft and eyes kind. “I have no idea why you get so ashamed when that happens, but you need to know it’s fucking hot. Like, I wish it would happen everytime.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you mumble out, tracing patterns on the skin of his right shoulder, still not meeting his eyes.

“No, I’m not. Baby, some guys only dream of making their girlfriends squirt,” he explains. You flinch at the last word. “I get to do it every once in a while and it feels amazing.” He shifts his face so you have no choice but to look directly into his eyes. “Does it feel like that for you, too?”

You sigh deeply, his reasoning infiltrating your mind. “Yeah, it does.”

“Then stop ruining this for you,” he says with finality. “It’s a body reaction, it feels good, and you like it. So why not enjoy it? It’s not a bad thing, love.”

“Okay, you’re too reasonable for someone that just blew my brains out,” you complain, weakly pushing his face. “Stop, please.”

Anton laughs, his chest rumbling against yours, and you smile back at him. When his lips peck yours, he puts his whole weight on your body to press his still hard length on your leg, the fabric of his jeans rough against your skin. “Reasonable while I’m hard for you, at that.”

You make a grumpy face at him. “You didn’t cum in your pants for me?”

He smiles wickedly. “I held it in for you.”

“Why would you do that?” You ask, an annoyed look taking over your face.

“Wanna cum inside you,” he whispers, nipping on your bottom lip.

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “I don’t think you deserve it, Anton.”

“I don’t deserve it after blowing your brains out?”

“You should’ve cummed with me the first time!” You exclaim, feeling heated over the subject. “Honestly, how much do you like me squirting when you can’t even soil your pants over it?”

He chuckles because of your defensiveness. “Here I was thinking you’d be glad because this way we can get right to it—”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He tilts his head to the side. “Huh?”

“My love,” you say calmly, trying to sound as patient as he was with you a minute ago. “I like to make you weak as much as you like to make me weak.”

“Ahhhh,” he mumbles, realization dawning on his features.

“So, next time be weak for me, all right?”

“Got it, love,” he says, giving you a happy smile you can’t help but return.

You move your hand to his face, feeling the softness of his underlip with your thumb. Then you’re pulling him in for a kiss and moving your tongue inside of his mouth. He tastes like your pussy and something still undeniably him, and you sigh against his mouth, sucking his tongue and biting his lips. He kisses you tenderly, tucking strands of your hair over your ear and massaging your shoulders. You can’t get enough of him.

When you separate for air, your eyes glint at his, hand going down to press on his bulge. “Great, now fuck me.”

Anton groans and bites your cheek. “You’re so romantic, baby.”

You laugh while you try to tug the waistband of his jeans down, but his hips being so close to yours hinder your actions. He gives you a peck and then slides down the bed to stand up, yanking his pants away and revealing his briefs, a moist patch on its front. Then he’s pulling that down, too, and his cock slaps against his abdomen while he kicks the clothes off.

You lick your lips staring at his puffy cock, moistness accumulated on his swollen tip. He goes back to the bed, climbing atop of you. You quickly wrap your hand around the root of his shaft, then collect his precum on his head to smear it all over his length. Anton whines, his forehead hitting your shoulder.

“So sensitive, right?” You whisper over his ear. “Maybe you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t held it in…”

He snickers, biting on your shoulder. “I said I got it, baby. Can we drop the subject now?”

You humph, squeezing his tip, earning a moan from him. “I’m just making a point here, pretty boy. I can tease too.”

“You tease me all the time by being you,” he whispers against your skin, moving his mouth to your neck. “Being annoyed at me only makes you hotter.”

You smile and kiss the end of his shoulder. “Well, then you should fuck your hot girlfriend, baby.”

He’s so quick to pull back from your shoulder that you almost laugh at him. “How do you want it?”

“Spoon me,” you say and he gets off of you so you can lay sideways.

Once you’re positioned, he comes behind you, chest pressing against your shoulder blades and left arm fitting in the space between your neck and the mattress to wrap around your torso, his hand gripping on your opposing shoulder. He places his other hand on the inside of your right thigh to separate it a little from the left one, getting his hips close to yours. His dick hits the swell of your ass and you wiggle your butt to feel more of it.

“You like that I get so deep like this, don’t you?” He taunts, lips on your earlobe raising goosebumps on your body.

You reach your hand back to grip on his hip bone. “Anton, just shut up and fuck me.”

You love the man, you really do, but sometimes — mainly in bed, when you’re horny and desperate — he just talks way too damn much.

“Alright, Miss Editor,” he says with a chuckle. “So impatient tonight.”

You feel his knuckles skimming against your skin as he grabs his dick to tap it on your cunt, his head sliding against your folds. You both sigh at the first contact, chests contracting and expanding at the same time, and you dig your nails at his skin. Then Anton is moving his hips back and positioning himself, his tip prodding at your entrance for a moment before he’s gliding inside in one swift motion until he bottoms out, your arousal making it smooth and painless.

Anton releases a sigh when his hips are flush against yours and you feel suspended in the air and filled, your chest falling forward, your back separating from his chest and your hands supporting yourself on the sheets.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, voice already strained.

Anton doesn’t let you be distant from him for too long. He pulls you right back against his body, hand moving down from your shoulder to your boob, and thrusts into you shallowly. 

“Stay with me, love,” he whispers in your ear.

You move your hand to grip onto his forearm, grounding yourself whilst you feel your pussy throbbing around him. “Tonie,” you say breathlessly. “Feels so full, so deep.”

He wraps his free arm around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him, rocking your hips forward together, making sure he’s buried within you to the hilt. “That’s why you chose this position, right?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his wrist. “Can you move, baby?”

You feel him nod against your neck and a moment later he’s going almost all the way out, letting only his tip inside, and then pushing forward again, until he hits your deepest walls. He does it three times in a row and it’s like you can feel him all the way from your core to your lungs, his thrusts pushing air right out of you and leaving you breathless.

You move your hand back to his hip again for support.  Anton takes the moment to slide his hand down your butt, fingers spreading around one of your ass cheeks as he rests the top of his head between your shoulder blades to watch the way you take him in, keeping his thrusts slow and steady.

“Look at the way your pussy takes my cock, fuck,” he says, groaning in between his words. “Always stretching up for me so good, wrapping all around me.”

“Anton,” you moan, aiding his movements with your hand, trying to pull him closer and deeper inside you.

He starts pressing kisses over your skin and his hand lightly slaps your ass, rubbing the place right after, the sting making you clench around him. “I could live inside this pussy forever.”

His words get to you, like it always happens, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Would you like that, baby?” He whispers, his lips pressing on your neck, the hand on your boob flicking your nipple. “I bet you would. You love having me inside of you.”

You nod, sure that he can see you. “Yeah. I’m obsessed with—” The next words die in your mouth, replaced by a hiss when his hand pulls your leg up, changing the angle slightly.

“Obsessed with what, baby?” He asks, as if he’s not making your train of thought weaker by the second.

“With you… and your cock,” you say through gritted teeth while he starts to speed his pace. “Just obsessed. Love the way you fill me up.”

You’re not lying. You are obsessed with his dick. Truefully, you’re obsessed with all of him. Probably just as much as he’s obsessed with you. You make the hottest maniac couple possible.

You can’t see his face correctly, but you know he’s smiling because of the noise he makes, his smugness showing up from his sounds and the snap of his hips on yours. “I know you do, baby. Can’t get enough of this dick, right? You act like a little slut for it.”

“Jesus, baby…” You’re all out of words, your body and mind being consumed by him.

“My girl got a pussy made for me to fuck,” he praises, hand gripping your thigh so hard you’re a positive he’s bruising you. “Fucking perfect, made for me. Perfect for me.”

“You— you’re the one who’s perfect,” you stutter out, moving your lips to press kisses on his knuckles.

“You’re perfect for me and I’m perfect for you,” he states, his hand going from your thigh to your face, making you turn your head so he can look into his eyes. “We’re made for each other.”

And then he kisses you, stealing what’s left of your breath, tongue licking your lips and invading your mouth. After that, he taps two of his fingers on your lips and you take them in, sucking on them languidly as you give him the sultriest look you can muster. He smiles at you and puts the same fingers around your nipple, wetting it with your saliva as he twitches the peaked bud. His lips descend upon your neck to wrap around your other boob and he sucks on the neglected nipple. You moan and arch your back, driving your ass and hips back in time with his growing thrusts forward, mind going dizzy from how good you’re feeling.

Anton smiles around your breast, looking up at your face and you see in his eyes how much he loves driving you crazy. It makes you put your hands around his head and pull his lips back to yours, kissing him with all your might. You love him so much you think you might explode sometimes.

His hips start to hit you with more force and speed and you pull back for air, but keep his face close to yours, mouths still connected and breaths mingling whenever one of you moans, sharing kisses, licks and bites on each other’s lips.

“Love of my life,” Anton whispers over your mouth. “I love you so fucking much.”

From the very first time you fucked, Anton showed you how much he valued connection. Yes, you two love to try out freaky positions and new ways to pleasure each other. However, he said it time and time again the one thing that surpassed all of it was being close to you. Nothing could compare to the feeling of his skin against yours, of you being wrapped on his body and inside his embrace, gaze locking with yours and his hands being free to roam all around you.

He made you addicted to the feeling as well and without even noticing you started to always search for positions where he’d be pressed as close to you as possible.

The position you’re in right now is good, but not ideal, mainly after his thrusts became faster, his hips sending you lurching with each snap as his arms pulled you back to him, throwing your body back and forth. When he grabbed your face to kiss you, it just turned more uncomfortable, your body now twisted at the waist to keep looking at him as he pounds on you from behind.

You’re about to ask him for a change when he proves he’s one step ahead of you, slowing down his thrusts to a stop and rocking his hips one more time before pulling out. “Gotta change,” he says breathlessly, resting your thighs back on the mattress. “Need to look into your eyes while having you.”

“Should I ride you?” You ask, but he’s already moving over you and pushing your shoulder until your back hits the sheets, his other hand spreading your thighs open.

“Maybe for the second round,” he says and you chuckle, not quite believing he has the energy to think of doing all of this again. “Be my pillow princess for now, baby. Let me take good care of you.”

He sits on his haunches and secures your legs apart before moving a hand back to his cock, pressing on his leaking tip and then moving it down to the base. He teases you both for a second while he taps his cock on your folds, hissing with you in unison, and then he’s passing through your hole and pushing inside again, hips kissing yours.

You clench around him almost as an instinct and Anton throws his head back, reveling in the way you wrap around his cock, his hips pushing you forward. He lowers his chest to meet yours, caging you in between his arms that press on the sheets on both sides of your head, looming over you and dipping the mattress with his weight.

“Still soaking wet and tight for me even after we’ve done this a million times,” he says, pulling back slightly to drive inside you with more force. “You make it so hard to hold myself back.”

You move your hands to his neck, feeling his hair damp with sweat. “Don’t hold back. I want you to feel good.”

“Don’t worry.” He moves a hand to your waist, pressing you against the sheets and thrusting in again. “I always feel good when I’m inside you, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his lower back, crossing your ankles together and pressing your heels on his ass to force him to fuck you with more power. “Baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” you mumble, moving your lips to press on the apple of his cheek. “I feel like I’m addicted to you.”

Anton all but melts, slowing down to look directly in your eyes and pay attention to what you’re saying. “Yeah, baby?”

“I need you to know how much I need you,” you say, your voice starting to falter, your hands getting antsy and squeezing his shoulders. “I’d never ever think about replacing—”

He soothes you with a hand on your face, sweeping your hair back. “Shhh, I know, baby, I know.”

“No, you don’t.” You shake your head, eyes glazing over him. “I really don’t want anyone else. You’re the one for me.”

“I know, love,” he coos, stroking your face and kissing your temple. “You’re it for me, too, sweet girl.”

“I fucking love you,” you utter, your lips skiming against his at each word, in the same beat as he thrusts deep inside you. “Nothing— no one else measures up to this, you and me.”

He smiles, resting his forehead against yours. “You and me, baby. That's all that matters.”

You seal your vows with a kiss, your mouths clicking like puzzle pieces. Just like how your body fits beneath his, how his hands are carved to drag on your skin, how your fingers are modeled to grip his hair and your nails to rake through his back, how both of your moans sync up, harmonizing together, how his hips attach on the dip of yours, how his cock is suit to fuck you, how your pussy is made to suck it in.

There’s so many messy aspects of your lives, so much baggage you both carry. But this, being together, belonging with each other is what makes all the imperfection make sense, no matter how fucked up life gets.

Anton licks his way down from your lips to your neck, his mouth suctioning on your pulse point and his hands squeezing your waist. He’s still fucking you leisurely, every movement deliberate and intense, and from the way he digs his fingers into your skin and your moans make your throat hoarse, you know you’ll cum just like this.

“Shit, you’re so freaking perfect,” he chokes, his uneven breaths hitting your skin. “Perfect for me.”

You agree, lifting your hips up to move in tandem with his, chasing your high. “Yes, perfect for you.”

He bites on your earlobe, then speaks over it. “You’re gonna cum for me, my perfect girl? Gonna make a big mess on my cock?”

You speed up the movements a bit, trying to scratch the itch that gnaws at your lower belly, feeling yourself clenching over him. “Yeah, I’m so close, baby,” you gasp.

“That’s it, love, that’s it,” he says, pressing his face on yours again, nuzzling your nose. “You’re taking it so good. Such a good girl for me.”

He grabs one of your legs to crook it, fitting the back of your knee on the bend of his arm and stretching it up. The new move makes him plunge deeper inside you, his tip hitting the back of your walls, right on your g-spot.

“Oh my gosh, Anton,” you whimper, clawing at his lower back. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck, I love how whiny you get every time,” he says, soft and gruff, pressing his lips to your cheeks. “So desperate to cum for me.”

He wraps his forearm around your leg to reach for your pussy, digits rubbing on your clit at rapid pace, in contrast with his slow fucking. You grow agitated, curling your toes and bucking your hips, hands gripping any of his flesh you can reach and a string of broken moans falling from your lips. Anton gulps on each one of your sounds, lips rasping against yours as he moves his free hand to your lower back, pulling you more into him while you arch for him, both still trying to feel every part of you as possible. Your pussy is clenching around him without control right now and you feel your restraint slipping away with each passing second.

“Shit, you’re clenching on me so tight, baby,” he groans, and you see the burning under his eyes, how his hands get more antsy, too. “Gonna make me cum, too.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you mutter like crazy, pressing a hand on his face to smooth down the place between his eyebrows where his skin is squeezed shut, obviously trying to hold himself back. “Anton, inside, please.”

That’s what does it for him. The desperate plea on your lips, how urgent your voice calls his name, asking him to give you his seed. He kisses you one more time and then he’s cumming, hot thick spurts filling you up and triggering your own orgasm. It hits you right in the chest, stealing all breath while you chant his name like a religious hymn.

Anton doesn’t stop, because he never does. He frees your leg and sits on his haunches, grabbing your hips and making you ride the high together, still thrusting inside you whilst your cunt convulses around him, watching how white rings of your hole form around his swelled up cock, speaking nonsense. Once he’s almost done, he slowly dips inside you three more times, rocking his hips forward the most he can on the last one, until he can see his cum leaking out of you from how much he gave you.

He stays connected with you and sinks back down on the bed, fitting his head on the space between your neck and shoulder. You stay silent for a while, letting your labored breath slow down while you’re both brought down from the peak. You notice how loud you were being. The absence of your moans, the rustling of the sheets, of your skin slapping together and your headboard hitting the wall is calming right now, but it also stresses you for a whole different reason.

You rub on Anton’s shoulders and tilt your head to the side to kiss his cheek. “These walls are thick, right?”

He opens his tired eyes to look at you. “Scared we’ll get a noise complaint, baby?”

“I mean, we can’t afford being expelled from the building, Anton,” you say firmly in response to the humour in his voice.

He chuckles and drops a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “Relax, baby. They can’t expel us until we get like three strikes.” 

You look at him quizzically. “What does that mean?”

“Like, we have to be notified three times for the same wrongful behavior,” he explains. “I read the condo regulations when we got this place.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What did you read it for?”

“Hmm, moments like this?” He says with a teasing smile. “We both know how loud you can get.”

You roll your eyes and push at his shoulder, annoyed. “Get up, you’re all sweaty.”

He doesn’t back down, instead getting his face all up on yours and kissing your cheek. “You like it when I get sweaty.”

“Not like this,” you say, truly feeling sticky with his hot skin still pressed on yours. You try to push him off you, but he doesn’t even budge. “Seriously, baby, I feel gross. And we need to showeeer.”

He tightens his hold around you and pouts. “Gimme a kiss first.”

You give in to him, pressing your lips on his for the last time before he finally lets up, getting off your body, his softening cock pulling out of you. You feel more of his cum dripping out of you as you sit up and move your shaky legs to the side of the bed. Anton follows your movement, staying on his knees and pressing soft kisses on your spine whilst you breathe deeply.

“My hot, annoyed girlfriend,” he whispers on your skin. “I’ll have to fuck you again if you keep up with this act.”

You finally laugh as he kisses his way up your shoulders. “Well, you’re annoying sometimes! Always teasing me, even when I asked you not to!”

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says on your neck. “Would you forgive me if I carry you to the bathroom princess style?”

You pretend to muse on the thought. “Hmm, maybe.”

The next moment he’s up and wrapping one arm around your back and the other under your knees, picking you up to carry you to the en-suite bathroom. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his clavicle as he walks and a few seconds later he’s dropping you back to the ground.

“Start without me and I’ll join you in a minute,” he says before giving you a long peck on the lips. “I have to take care of the big mess you left on our sheets.”

He turns his back to you and you swat at his butt for that comment. “See? Annoying!”

Anton just laughs as he gets out of the bathroom, leaving you to it. You sigh and get on the toilet, analyzing your frazzled state in the mirror while you pee. Your hair sticks at odd places, your eyes look glassy and your skin is covered in perspiration and link marks. The boy said he would ruin you and ruin you he did. You sigh happily, the thought making you giddy.

After you clean yourself, you walk on still wobbly legs to your side of the bathroom vanity to grab a hair tie, then move to the shower to turn the faucet on. You brush back your strands with your fingers while you wait for the water to warm up, checking in the mirror that your hair looks decent enough before tying it in a firm bun. You step into the shower stream, then, letting it wash away all the grime and remnants of your lovemaking. Anton joins you a few minutes later, pressing his chest on your back so the water stream hits him, too. You hum contendly when he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

His aftercare is the best, as always. He cleans you and himself up almost all on his own. You notice how he initially reaches for your body wash, but ends up brushing it aside to grab his body wash, lathering you up with bubbles. You keep your lips sealed about it as he scrubs you softly with your violet sponge, even getting down on his knees to brush it over your legs and feet, making you laugh. He also lets you hog the stronger stream of water, too busy kissing and caressing your skin to care for it. It all feels so good you start to feel sleepy. Once you’re done, he wraps you both in your matching fluffy white robes and pulls you back with him to the bedroom, kissing your lips again.

As you step in the bedroom, the room feels chilly and fresh, the pine scent of your air freshener spray lingering in the air. Your bed is made with new crispy white sheets and a pair of Anton’s pajamas rest over the quilt. He grabs the bottoms and starts to put them on and you move to your wardrobe to catch a nightie for you. But he’s quick to pull you back to him by your wrist, the top part of his pajamas in hand.

“Would you mind wearing this tonight?” He asks, voice soft and careful. “Please? For me?”

It’s funny how he’s gingerly requesting you something while towering over you, big shoulders and arms on display. A strong bulky man turned uncertain and sweet in front of his much weaker and dainty girlfriend.

“Sure, baby,” you reply, opening your robe and letting it fall off your shoulders. You reach your arms up and look at Anton expectantly. “Can you help me put it on, please?”

He gives you a giddy smile and rushes to do just that, helping by putting his shirt on you, first passing your arms through the holes first and then your head. He pulls it down until the comfy fabric hugs your body nicely and the bottom of it reaches until a little past your butt. With this, you’re completely wrapped around Anton's scent. Which definitely was his goal all along.

He makes it crystal clear when he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up and putting his nose right on your neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell so good, baby.”

You giggle, crossing your arms over his neck. “I smell like you, you mean.”

He pulls back with an embarrassed smile, a pink tint flushing his ears. “Exactly.”

You press your hand on the nape of his neck and pull him down to kiss him languidly. Anton hums happily on your lips, sitting down on the bottom of the bed and moving you to his lap. You sit with your legs perpendicular to his and wrap yourself tightly in his embrace, giving smooches on his face and neck.

When you pull back, Anton is smiling like a school boy at you. “Oh, I already ordered some jajangmyeon and fried chicken for us. It should be here in a few minutes,” he tells you.

You smile back at him and move a hand to your now growling stomach at the mention of your favorite comfort food. “Wow, you really are the love of my life.”

He nods proudly and grips your hand to press kisses onto your open palm. You trace the lines of the muscles on his shoulder with your free hand while he does it, scouring your mind for a way to softly broach the subject of his obvious jealousy.

Then you sigh and decide to just rip the bandaid off. 

“So, uh,” you start uncertain, and his eyes go to yours, showing he’s listening to you, his lips still pressed on your palm. “The Sungchan thing really bothered you, right?”

Anton tenses and pauses mid-kiss on your skin, his body becoming stiff under yours. He scrunches his eyebrows together and shrugs, trying too hard to seem laid back. “No, not at all. Does it look like I’m bothered?”

You bite on your lower lip and nod slowly, seeing his cheeks blushing.

“Oh,” he mutters after a beat, dropping your hand and looking down. “Well, I guess it did bug me a little bit, then.”

You scratch on his hair, trying to be supportive, and softly ask, “Can you tell me why, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he says, still looking down, suddenly very engrossed in pulling at a thread on his pants. “I mean, you told me all about him. And I think, maybe, knowing it all— Like how he was your first real thing, the first guy that you actually loved… It all made me a little insecure. And then he appeared out of nowhere and he’s obviously tall and handsome. And then he’s flirting with you, you said so yourself, and you’re chatting up with him all buddy-buddy—”

“I wasn’t buddy-buddy with him,” you say and Anton looks at you exasperated with the interruption, but you gaze back at him with an adamant expression. “We just talked. He heard about the promotion when I was speaking with you and asked me about it. Honestly, it didn’t mean anything to me, baby.”

“I’m not saying it meant something to you. But he was very obviously trying to get you, even after he saw you were committed. I’m not dumb, Y/N. It just upset me.”

“But I rejected him. Very clearly, at that — like no, thanks, you wouldn’t have a chance with me even if I didn’t have my amazing ass boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know all of that,” he huffs, still brooding. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a play by play of our talk while you ravaged me,” you say, voice full with sarcasm.

He gives you a pointed look. “You could’ve told me before that!”

“And how was I supposed to know you were so upset about it if you didn’t say something?” you counter. “I know I’m great and all, but I can’t read minds yet, Anton.”

He shrugs and pouts. “Anyway, you asked me how I felt about it and that’s it.”

“You’re so cute when you’re this jealous,” you tease, squishing his cheeks and finally getting back at him from all the ways he taunted you tonight. Anton glares at you and you soften up, holding his face tenderly, your thumbs rubbing at his jaw. “Look, baby, I meant every word I said. You’re it for me. There’s no one else, no ex or past fling that can whisk me away from you, especially not a fuckboy like him.”

He nods at every word out of your mouth, eyes understanding.

“I completely get why you felt troubled tonight,” you continue. “But I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it when I say it doesn’t matter what he or anyone else tries to do, I won’t leave you. You’re stuck with me, baby boy. No take backs. No running away. No cheating. It’s you and me until the end… okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he replies. His eyes are set firm now and you can tell he feels more confident by your reassurance. 

“You trust me, right?”

“I trust you, baby. And I feel the same way. You and me, always.”

“Always,” you nod, giving him a happy smile and looking him deep in his eyes. “I love you so bad.”

He visibly melts, his hands pressing on your waist again. “I love you, baby.” And a beat after he asks, “Was it okay, though? The possessive thing?”

You squint your eyes at him and stretch your arms around his back. “Well, I didn’t use our safe word…”

“I know, I’m just checking in,” he explains. “I  think I should’ve asked your color, right? But I was just so into it.”

“I was into it, too,” you confess, shimmying yourself further into his arms. “Honestly, it was freaking hot. You can do that again whenever you’d like.”

He laughs and pulls you closer, until your chest is flush against his. “Dirty girl.”

“What was it that you said again? That you’d love if he saw me like—”

“No, I said he can’t ever have you like that again. Never.”

“Never is such a strong word, baby,” you tease.

Anton’s eyes harden. “Is that your way of begging me to wreck you again? Because I will do it, Y/N,” he warns.

“I’m kidding!” You say, arms going up as if you're surrendering yourself. “Damn, tough crowd.”

“Wow, you should do stand up comedy, baby,” he sneers, still moping.

After that, you spend a while peppering kisses over his face to get him back to his smiling self and soon enough he’s cheerfully kissing you back.

“Oh, one more thing,” you say suddenly, rearing back to look at him. “You know what we talked about celebrating?” Anton nods and you barrel on. “I was thinking about how once you finish your residency, I’ll also be a year settled in my new spot at work. So we could totally take a few days off, maybe plan a big trip…”

“Oh, I like how you think, dirty girl,” he says and you jokingly slap at his arm. “No, seriously, that’s a great idea, love. Were you thinking about somewhere special?”

You nip at your bottom lip, nervous. “I was, actually.”

Anton moves his thumb to your mouth, brushing on your bottom lip to release it from your teeth. “Tell me, baby.”

“I was thinking… New Jersey,” you say with a smile.

Anton’s eyes widen at your answer and he corrects his posture a little, sitting up a little straighter. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his cheeks as his shocked bright eyes look at you. “I just want to know the place you grew up in. You already got to know all my family, my town, my school friends, everything… It’s only fair I get to know yours too, right?”

“Shit, I love you so much,” he says suddenly, catching you by surprise. He places his hands on your face and pulls you in, resting his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

Heat rushes to your face because of his praise and you smooth your thumbs over the sides of his neck as he looks at you with stars in his eyes. It’s crazy how he still makes you feel like a shy schoolgirl after all this time. “I take it you like the idea, then?”

“I love it,” he whispers, pressing his lips on yours for a brief moment. “I can’t wait to show you around. And I’ll get to show you off to my friends, too!”

You smile seeing his happiness. “I’m glad you love it, baby. We should start planning it soon.”

He nods and pulls you to a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. You hug him back just as tightly while you breathe together for a moment. Then Anton breaks the silence, “Wanna know what else we’ll get to do once we’re in New Jersey?”

“What?” You whisper.

Anton doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves his face to drop kisses on your shoulder, making you sigh. It’s a simple action, but it already riles you up and ignites a flame on your core, and soon you’re whining in his arms. That’s when he finally replies, his breath blowing over the damp skin he just kissed, “I’ll get to fuck you on my teenager bedroom, too.”

“Shit, baby,” you whimper, tugging on his hair, feeling yourself flush with heat.

You press your thighs together while you think about it, the scenario automatically appearing inside your mind. You imagine Anton rushing you into his bedroom, how he’d get you on his twin bed and drop to his knees while taking your pants off. How he’d move a finger to his lips to ask you to be silent before he starts dropping kisses all over your thigh. And how he’d spread you apart and close his lips on—

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Anton asks, interrupting your imagination and you bite your lips at being caught red-handed.

“Yeah,” you reply faintly while he keeps kissing your body, his mouth now on your jaw. You let your hands wander over his chest and arms, pressing on the muscles he carefully built over the years.

“Filthy, dirty girl,” he mutters teasingly, digging his fingers on your hips as he squeezes you against him. “You really want me to destroy you again.”

“You started it!” You accuse, driving your pointer finger into his chest.

“And I’m gonna finish it, baby,” he says playfully, pulling you in to kiss you.

You kiss him back, letting his tongue invade your mouth, and then, just as the kiss starts to get more desperate, your hands roaming over each other, the doorbell rings.

You push on his chest and leap out of his lap. “Yay, food’s here.”

Anton shakes his head at your happiness state because of food when he’s already half-hard in his boxers. But he can’t help but smile when you beckon him to follow you, hollering giddily, “Let’s eat, my love!”

He’s on your tail a second later, wrapping his arms around your waist and hauling you up, making you squeal. “Yeah, let's eat so we can quickly get to the dessert after,” he whispers with his lips over the shell of your ear, making you shiver all over.

The next day, while you’re having a fresh cup of coffee Anton made for you, a small piece of paper is flown under your door. 

Anton grabs it and smiles, walking back to your kitchen table to place it down in front of you. 

You take a peek at it with sleepy eyes and then tilt your head up to him. “A noise complaint?”

He drops down just enough to put a hand on the back of your head and peck your mouth. Then he whispers proudly over your lips, “Strike one, baby.”

As he laughs, you roll your eyes at him, not believing this silly annoying man is the love of your life.

But you’re so happy he is.

This might be my most self-insert work to this date. So many of reader's struggles are inspired by my own life, and that's why this story is very very very dear to me. As always, comments are appreciated. You can also talk to me about the fic on my askbox or tip me on my ko-fi, if you want. As always, thank you for reading!

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Pretty

Choso x Reader

NSFW fem!hot!reader // choso

warnings; dry humping, choso is bad at feelings, slightly clueless choso, dub-con? (everything is consensual, but choso doesn't completely understand everything), reader is hot, kinda long, premature ejaculation.

Note; posted this on my main, but I'm pretty sure it's shadowbanned so I'm reposting it here lol. If you like my writing, you can read more here!

Enjoy~

It surprised you that you were not part of the incident in Shibuya, seeing as you were a special grade sorcerer, you'd have assumed they'd want to tag you along somehow.

They did not, and you ended up being one of the last to learn about Gojo's imprisonment. It came as a surprise, and a part of you almost started to worry about what was going on in Tokyo, so naturally you found yourself offering to help out, even going as far as to move back to help with Jujutsu high.

What you didn't expect, is for the higher ups to dump an ex-curse user on you with no explanation besides 'make sure he doesn't relapse or something'.

It baffled you how unprepared they were, but you weren't one to complain. Not when your new half-human half-curse roommate was so... cute?

When you were told to keep an eye on him, you weren't expecting this to be what you'd be dealing with. You'd expected some super scary, weird curse thing, but Choso was surprisingly chill.

Socially inept, sure, he definitely wasn't used to living in human society, and definitely the quiet type, but he was easy to get along with and for the most part followed along with what you did.

If anything he seemed lost. You didn't really question why he split from his curse friends, but it was pretty obvious that whatever it was must've been intense enough that he's willing to go along with all of this.

You chose not to dwell on it too much, instead shrugging at the fact you now have an indefinite companion and moving on to live life as you normally would. The higher ups didn't really inform you what they wanted you to do with him, and seeing as you had no new missions assigned to you, you found yourself left with quite a large amount of free time.

Which you chose to spend getting acquired with Tokyo once again, having been away for a while, you had somewhat forgotten how it was. How did you choose to do this? Shopping, bar hopping, markets, social events, that kinda thing.

Basically all the things you used to do back when you used to live there.

And who was your designated victim of these adventures? Your new friend of course!

You found it endlessly entertaining to drag him around and introduce him to things he's never experienced before, which he (surprisingly) seemed to find tolerable.

He never really argued with you. Want to go shopping? Ok. Let's go hit the club? Alright.

In a way, he almost found himself enjoying doing those things with you. It was certainly better than being completely alone, though there were still things he didn't understand.

Why did you need new things so often? The old ones hadn't broken, and the new black dress you got looks awfully similar to the one you wore last week. Why do you need new shoes? He could've sworn he's seen those exact heels in your apartment.

Clubs confuse him even more. Why would you want to surround yourself with drunk people and loud music? He can't even hear what you're saying, but it feels nice when you lean against him like that so he doesn't mind, and you look so good in your black dress, whichever one it is (he can't tell the difference), that he feels his cheeks heat up.

It's an unfamiliar sensation, but he brushes it off as nervousness (is that what it's called?) of being in an unfamiliar environment.

He doesn't really understand why everyone in the club is eyeing him like that, majority of the men at the club giving him weird looks, which he wants to ask you about the meaning of, but he's not sure how, simply ignoring it as he watches you effortlessly down another shot.

He tried one last time, it tasted gross and felt weird in his throat, leading him to question how you were drinking them without even making a face. Are all humans like this?

He doesn't really care enough to investigate, not minding just sitting as you have your fun, trying desperately to not appear rude as you try and tell him something that he literally can't even hear because of the music blasting in the background.

You do look really nice though, and he finds himself staring at you pretty often. Not just at clubs but in general, which you catch most of the time but don't bring attention to, finding it cute.

He doesn't even notice he does this, or understand why he shouldn't do it anyway. You're pretty, why shouldn't he look?

When you finally get a mission assigned, he tags along as your partner. There is another group on your mission, two of the guys give him strange looks (similar to the ones he got at the bar), and he tries to search for any form of explanation inside his mind, once again contemplating whether to ask you for an answer. You were good with people, he was sure you'd know.

He was about to ask but you seemed so involved in your discussion with one of the girls, that he decided against it, awkwardly hovering by your side waiting for you to finish, wondering why your laugh makes him feel all weird inside.

Once the mission was over, he wasn't surprised that you dragged him along with you to celebrate with your sorcerer friends.

The gathering itself went pretty normal, but a few things caught his attention. You got complimented a lot, which he hadn't really noticed before, both on your skills and your looks. His expression must've looked strange enough for one of the girls to chime in and say "what, don't tell me you weren't aware that you're partnered with like- the hottest female special grade sorcerer to date!" which earns her a laugh and a small nudge from you.

Choso spends the rest of the night thinking about that.

He'd never really thought of it that way, but now that it was mentioned to him, he couldn't help but agree that you were hot. And that was strange.

He was never really one to ogle women, having never felt the need to before, but now he found his gaze wandering more often. It's not even that anythings changed in his behaviour, he just started noticing it more.

It felt weird.

He didn't like the feeling.

It felt wrong noticing these things. The way dresses hug your waist, and shorts show off your ass, and the way the tank tops you wear around the apartment make your boobs look really good. He feels almost ashamed when he notices, but a part of him doesn't want to look away, urging him to admire you as he feels strange sensations pooling inside him.

He finds himself thinking about you a lot, whether you're around or not. Sometimes he'd think of you at night, not understanding why he felt all hot inside and sleep seemed to escape him on those nights.

As you got closer, he'd find that he liked being around you in general. Enjoying the tingly feeling he got whenever you leaned against him while watching movies on the couch, or the way you'd hold his wrist when guiding him through crowds in whatever route you'd deemed the 'fastest'.

Over time he started to speak more too. Not much more, he was still pretty non-talkative, but he'd talk now instead of simply nodding in reply.

You also found yourself growing to like him more. You thought he was pretty interesting to begin with, not only because of the whole half-curse thing, he just seemed pretty cool.

And he was adorable, can't forget about that.

I mean, what's better than a hot guy who's slightly clueless? It's definitely way better than the men who can't seem to keep it in their pants, wanting to slot it in at the mere sight of a pretty girl showing a bit of cleavage that's for sure.

And the thing is, he didn't even seem to realise he was hot.

Upon getting to know him, he was just as oblivious and awkward as he seemed. It was honestly so cute how he'd blush when he'd realise he was staring, and how he seemed so confused about what it was he was feeling, and how the way he felt seemed to be obvious to everyone but him.

It was clear as day that he liked you. There was no hiding it, though you'd wager he probably didn't even realise what that meant.

But you sure did.

So you'd make it a game, flirting with him constantly, getting more touchy than necessary, just to see how long it would take for him to question it. Except you knew he probably wouldn't.

Why would he? It's not like he can even put a name to what it is he's feeling. And he certainly can't tell what the stiffness in his pants is when you lean on him, hand drawing small objects on one of his thighs as your eyes are fixed on a movie.

He can feel it, he just can't name it.

Once again, he wants to ask you, but in this case it's him who stops himself from doing so. How is he supposed to ask about something like this? Wouldn't you find it weird? What even is this??

His thoughts are disrupted when you look up at him through your lashes, lips slightly glossy from the lipgloss you were wearing that day and the reflection of the light from the screen, hand still resting on his thigh as you ask if you can sit in his lap.

The request is strange to him, but he doesn't deny you, feeling a small pang of excitement when you bring it up.

When you shift into his lap, hips pressing down on his as he suppresses a gasp, back to his chest. He doesn't say anything about you blocking the screen, afterall, is the view of your back not better than a movie he doesn't even understand the plot of?

He remains silent as you make yourself comfortable in his lap, acutely aware of the way the tightness in his pants seems to intensify as you do so, the familiar feeling of heat pooling within him coming making itself present.

Almost on instinct, he spreads his legs slightly, causing your ass to press closer to the bulge in his pants, causing him to let out a small groan.

"you alright Choso? I can get off if you'd like"

Your words are said teasingly, though there is a hint of sincerity in them, you wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable afterall.

"no... it's fine. It just- feels weird"

"weird how?"

He contemplates for a second, hands resting idly on your hips as his thumbs mindlessly draw on the exposed skin above your waistband.

"it's like- all warm. hard to explain, it's just... strange. I've never felt this before" he pauses before adding, "it feels good though, you don't have to move"

You hum, shifting slightly closer to him, hearing the way he swallows behind you, the twitching in his pants not going unnoticed by you.

"are you getting worked up?"

"if that's what this is called"

His response is pretty blunt, not even trying to deny the effect you have on him as he blushes slightly, realising that you probably felt the commotion happening beneath you.

He was about to apologise before you interrupt him, leaning back against him, head resting on his shoulder.

"I can make it feel better if you want"

"please do"

His voice is soft, but it doesn't lack certainty. You honestly were expecting him to be a bit more flustered, but you weren't gonna complain about this.

You let out another hum, beginning to gently grind your hips against his hard on, relishing in the way his breathing stutters and soft noises start to make themself present.

"keep- keep doing that... it feels nice..."

You let out a small laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw, one of your hands moving to run through his slightly messy hair, earning you a small sigh that grows into a moan as you press down on his hips harder.

"ok ok~ I'll keep going~"

You purr, grinding your ass against him through his pants, not at all surprised when you feel him throb beneath you, hands gripping your sides tighter, pressing you against him a bit harder almost instinctively chasing after this very nice new feeling you're gracing him with.

You smile when you hear him hiss, breathing getting heavier as he get's closer.

"feels really- weird-"

He huffs out, head falling to rest on your shoulder, breathing getting more erratic as the rhythmic press of your hips against his becomes more and more insistent.

"good weird?"

"yes."

You nod, pressing your lips to the side of his head as his hips shift slightly under you, breathy moans turning into louder groans as he reaches his high.

It wasn't surprising that he finished pretty fast, seeing as he's never done this before, and you ease him through it. His hands move to wrap around your waist, holding you against him as he catches his breath.

"how was it Choso? better?"

He doesn't answer straight away, but after a few short moments he nods.

"can you... do that again?"

Now that surprises you, but who are you to deny?

Masterlist

[yoshhii]

HUSBAND HEADCANONS— mha

𓉸ྀི it’s been a while since i last watched mha so sorry if i miss anyone!

⋆₊ ♱ Bubbly Husband

— wakes you up every morning with a big smile and a cheerful “good morning, love!”

— plans fun dates, even if it’s just a picnic in the living room with fairy lights and your favorite snacks

— will randomly spin you around in the kitchen while you’re cooking together

— talks a lot and sometimes doesn’t realize he’s rambling, but his excitement is contagious

— always hypes you up, whether you’re trying a new outfit or just doing chores, “just look at you! you’re amazing!”

— sends you cute texts throughout the day, usually with tons of emojis

— tends to be over-the-top affectionate, constantly hugging, kissing your cheek, or playing with your hands

mirio, midoriya, kirishima, sero, inasa, present mic

⋆₊ ♱ Calm Husband

— he’s type to wake up before you and just lay there, watching you with a soft smile before gently kissing your forehead

— his presence is comforting. no matter what kind of day you’ve had, he makes it better just by being there

— he may not be overly affectionate, but he’ll let you hold on to his arm when you’re out together

— he is a listener and prefers if you did all the talking, however he doesn’t mind going into a detailed explanation if you were to ask him something (sometimes though)

— loves quiet nights in, wether it’s reading together, watching a movie, or just sitting in comfortable silence

— rarely raises his voice, but when he does, it’s always to protect you

— when you’re upset, he doesn’t overwhelm you with words, he just pulls you into his arms and lets you vent or cry if you need to

— the type to buy you something useful instead of flowers, like a weighted blanket because he noticed you sleep better with one, but doesn’t mind buying them if you asked

— when he’s tired, he’ll just wrap an arm around you and bury his face in your neck

— the kind of guy who remembers all the small details about you and surprises you with things he knows you’ll love

Iida, todoroki, tokoyami, kurogiri, kai chisaki (overhaul), mr. compress

⋆₊ ♱ Flirty Husband

— never stops flirting with you, even after years of marriage, “marrying me was the best decision of your life, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

— calls you pet names all the time: darling, babe, love, gorgeous, even embarrassing ones just to see you blush

— loves teasing you, whether it’s playful remarks or sneaky touches when no one’s looking

— whispers things in your ear just to see you get flustered in public

— will always show at least some form of pda, wether it’s holding your hand, kissing you, or wrapping an arm around you

— absolutely loves winking at you from across the room, does this at least twice a day

— somehow always finds a way to make even the most mundane conversations into something suggestive

— if you’re on the phone with him, he’ll say something flirty right before hanging up just to leave you blushing

— serenades you dramatically, even in public, and does not care if people stare, they’re just strangers and it’s not like you’re going to see them again anyways

— will absolutely say, “well, well, well, if it isn’t my stunning spouse,” every time you walk into the room

— loves pulling you close when you’re talking and staring at you like you’re the most captivating thing in the world

denki, hawks, dabi, twice

⋆₊ ♱ Tsundere Husband

— acts like he doesn’t care but will do the most thoughtful things for you behind your back

— complains about your clinginess but lowkey gets annoyed when you’re not giving him attention

— when you’re sad, he won’t say much, but he’ll bring you your favorite snack and just sit next to you, subtly nudging you to lean on him

— gets embarrassed when you’re affectionate in public but secretly loves it when you hold onto his sleeve or hand

— loves bickering with you over dumb things, your annoyed expression is adorable to him

— the type to “not care” when you ask for cuddles but pulls you closer when you try to move away

— “tch, why’d you forget your jacket? here, just take mine. it’s not like i care if you get sick or anything”

— gets flustered when you initiate affection but secretly lives for it

— huffs and pouts when you call him cute but gets mad if you stop

— the kind of husband who says “you’re so annoying” but will physically fight anyone who upsets you

— hates pda, but if he sees another guy looking at you for too long, he’ll suddenly be all over you

bakugo, monoma, + whoever you think fits

⋆₊ ♱ Introvert Husband

— prefers staying home with you rather than going out—his ideal date is ordering takeout and watching a movie under a blanket

— doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s always meaningful, he’s a deep thinker and values quality conversations over small talk

— will listen to you for hours even if he doesn’t respond much, he just loves hearing your voice

— social gatherings drain him quickly, so you often end up leaving early or finding a quiet corner to sit together

— shows his love through quiet acts of service, making your favorite breakfast, keeping your favorite blanket folded near the couch, or fixing something in the house without you asking

— loves subtle affection, he won’t initiate PDA often, but he will casually lace his fingers with yours when no one’s looking

— if you’re an extrovert, he’ll sit back and let you talk to everyone, only chiming in when necessary, if you’re also an introvert, he’s perfectly content existing in peaceful silence with you

— gets flustered if you compliment him too much but secretly loves it

— sometimes needs alone time to recharge but always reassures you it’s not because of you (it’s just how he is)

— prefers texting over phone calls and will send you a simple “i love you” text instead of a long, dramatic speech

shoji, shinso, tamaki, aizawa, shigaraki (except he’s careful with his fingers)

[luvsicktyun]

𝓓𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝓑𝐘 𝓓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐼𝒩 𝒜 𝐵𝐸𝒜𝒰𝒯𝐼𝐹𝒰𝐿 𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒟𝒪𝑀 there lived five Princes with great power. Power to control the uncontrollable. All you know about the air you breathe, the fire you light, the water you drink, the land you stand on and the ether that makes you who you are falls on the shoulders of the royal beings that lay amongst the clouds. They watch you, they walk among you and this was their story, told on the scrolls of your being and the cages of your heart. Prepare yourself, for this story will change you and all that you are.

𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡…. @hyukascampfire , @biteyoubiteme , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 彡 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟔𝐭𝐡

𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓦𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝓢𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐜.𝐛𝐠

━ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 - @luvsicktyun

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ wind god!bakery boy!beomgyu x mortal!reader

── ꒱⠀ ‎ູㅤ ‎ིྀ You hear it in your sleep and when you’re baking bread, when you’re putting the laundry up to dry or reading a novel on the porch. You hear it. The wind, it speaks to you. It sings sweet melodies in your ear when you're sleeping. Whispering soft reassurances when you can’t figure out what to do next. The wind speaks to you. And the only one who believes you is the village bakery boy who you can’t seem to stay away from.

𝓕𝐎𝐑 𝓐𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝓦𝐇𝐎 𝓦𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝓛𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐜.𝐲𝐣

━ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 - @biteyoubiteme

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ fire god!yeonjun x psychic!reader

── જ⁀➴ Stolen in the night you have been held captive by a king who has collected people like fine jewelry and coin. Week by week he invites people from kingdoms all over to show off his riches, his prizes, his possessions. Amongst the gold is hidden a god, tricked into captivity and looking for a way out. Writing letters you burn them in fear of having anyone read about your desire to escape, only there is always someone who listens, someone who reads between the flames.

𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓥𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝓞𝐅 𝓝𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈 𝐡.𝐤

━ 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 - @beomiracles

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ ether god!kai x queen!reader

── ⏜ ꒱⠀⠀ׁ⠀⠀ׅ⠀Ether, in its rawest and purest form is nothing. But to feel ether, you must become nothing yourself. You must mimic it, become hollow and void. Only then will you truly be able to embrace it. — When the King loses his battle to the sword, the Queen will come to know nothing but emptiness. Her body and her mind is now ether’s to take, and he will do so with purpose.

𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓦𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝓖𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐤.𝐭𝐡

━ 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 - @hyukascampfire

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ earth god!herbalist!taehyun x mortal reader

── ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ. the earth is an ancient thing, wise in ways that a spoiled Lord's daughter couldn't understand. taehyun is just that—both the vine and the dainty bloom made in the flesh. he is unmoving as the dirt beneath her fine slippers, and as much as she does not understand him, she knows that she needs his help.

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝓘𝐍 𝓨𝐎𝐔 𝐜.𝐬𝐛

━ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 - @izzyy-stuff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ water god!soobin x mortal!reader

── ︵⠀ Ꜥ    · In which Soobin wasn't sure what love felt like. A true, innocent connection between two people. It seemed almost like a myth to him until he saw his brothers in love. The look in their eyes-Soobin wanted to have that as well. So, he searched. He waited for centuries, watching people, trying to find a person that could make him feel the same way his brothers told him they felt with their people. And then he saw it, your eyes, the smile on your face as you talked to your friends, and he felt it. There was nothing that could stop him now, he was going to get his happy ending.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ๑ ֹ ₊ㅤ ۟ a new event! me and my girls are working so hard on this and were so excited to show you what we have!!! if you'd like to be added to the taglist for all fics comment here or send me an ask! if you'd like to be tagged in a certain fic, please send an ask to the designated author!

[yanderedrabbles]

my stance on AI and writing

Hey guys! This is a little interlude from my regular yandere posting, so feel free to skip this if you aren't interested.

I haven't really made a post on this, because I'm honestly pretty conflicted about a lot of things.

To begin with, I don't like AI. I don't like the environmental impact. I don't like the handling of data and copyright. I don't like the way people are losing their jobs because of it. I don't like that something that could potentially be so life-changing for so many of us is just... kind of awful for artists and writers.

But on the other hand, I also recognise that things are never quite so simple and one sided. AI can help so many people in so many ways. Advancements in technology should be celebrated. New jobs are being created all the time. A part of me is genuinely excited to see what's possible.

Publicly available AI has advanced so far so rapidly that I think a lot of us feel intimidated. Especially writers and artists. Do we still hold value when an AI can spit out a 10k word Gojo fic in less than a minute? If it can generate a baroque style piece in seconds?

Fan fiction especially exists in this sort of grey area. Unlike traditional authors, none of us are really in this for the money. We write because we enjoy it, because we find it fulfilling, because we want to get dicked down in all sorts of freaky ways.

So the pushback you see from your favourite yan authors isn't financially motivated. I won't speak for all of us, but I think a lot of it comes from the ethical issues around art, creativity and technology. Is it really art if it's generated by an algorithm?

I recognise that for most of us, fan fiction is entertainment. And hey, c.ai is plenty entertaining. AI can write decently well. I mean, it's been trained to. It has a surprising range in terms of style and voice.

And saying that c.ai is lazy isn't entirely true either. The folks creating the characters definitely put the work in. They have to create well rounded characters just as much as we do. I recognise that.

I also recognise that the nature of c.ai means that it doesn't occupy the exact same niche as written fics. It's a lot more interactive. A bit closer to old school role playing.

Having said that, I personally have no love for it.

I won't go on a tirade about it being soulless or artless because, let's be honest with each other, folk have been saying that about popular and pulp fiction for years. Nor am I so arrogant as to say my writing is so much better and that you should only read real authors. I'm not going to lambast you for using or not using it. You're a smart person. You can weigh up the ethical issues and decide for yourself where you stand.

But I don't want my ideas fed into a machine. I don't want it to take my stories and twist them all out of shape. I don't want my prose and style watered down to fit the generic c.ai writing style.

Am I being arrogant? Maybe. My ideas are hardly the most unique things in the world. My prose is hardly remarkable.

But it's still mine.

I don't want to hand it over and have it changed without my control.

I've had a few people ask me if I'll ever make character bots of my characters. And I'm flattered guys, really, I am. It's a huge compliment that you've enjoyed my characters so much that you want to directly interact with them.

But I don't see myself doing that anytime soon. I don't want to water my characters down just to fit into that mould.

Maybe I'll change my mind in the future. Maybe I'll do more research on the impact of AI and take a stronger stance. But for right now? I'd rather be shot than engage with it any more than I have to.

[bullet-prooflove]

Incomprehensible: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @sweetdaytimedreams @cosmic-psychickitty @mrspeacem1nusone

It’s Roxie that notices Margo’s attraction to Dean first. Roxie that pulls you aside at Benji’s Christening because she thinks Dean’s too oblivious to realise when another woman’s hitting on him and she doesn’t want to embarrass him.

Now that you see it, you can’t unsee it. The way she leans in close, bumping against him lightly as he speaks, the rapt attention as she listens. Her fingers toy with her necklace, attempting to draw his attention to her decollete. It’s completely lost on Dean, who’s gaze stays firmly on her face the entire time.

“She wants to meet for dinner tomorrow night.” He tells you as the two of you sit at one of the tables near the buffet, sharing a slice of cake. “It’s the only time she has to discuss some of the things I should be looking out for with Sean. She thinks the fact he’s a new husband and a new father might be putting extra pressure on him, that he might be headed towards a relapse.”

“I really don’t think she’s giving Sean enough credit.” You tell him as you pick through the icing with your fork. “He’s thriving at being a father and when he was struggling with the baby a couple of weeks ago, he did come to you for help.”

You’re talking about the night that Benji wouldn’t stop crying because he had colic, where Sean was at his wit’s end and had called Dean because he needed a break. You’d come home to find him asleep on your couch because Dean had given him the keys to house so he could get some rest.

“I just don’t want to miss something.” Dean tells you, his gaze coming to rest on his son as he cradles Benji to his chest. “He seems fine but maybe she sees something I don’t…”

“Or she just wants to spend time with you.” You point out and his eyebrows furrow into a frown.

“That’s not it.” He tells you bluntly. “She’s a professional, she wouldn’t do that.”

You don’t take offense at his dismissal, you understand that Dean doesn’t see himself the same way that other people do. It’s incomprehensible to him that another woman may find him attractive, that she may use the resources at her disposal including his son to further her agenda.

“OK.” You say pushing the plate of cake back towards him so he can finish his favourite parts. “I clearly must be seeing something that isn’t there.”

You’re sitting on the couch the next evening, catching up on your reading when he comes home from his meeting flustered and distressed. He can barely look at you as he hurtles up the stairs and straight into the bathroom, where he turns on the shower almost immediately. You raise your eyes to the ceiling because you know what happened to put him in this state, you can envision it quite clearly.

Dean giving Margo a lift home at the end of the night because he’s a gentleman, her leaning over the console, kissing him, inviting him inside. You can imagine the pink blush across his cheeks as he vehemently denied her.

You sigh as you close your book, heading up the stairs after him because you know just how shitty he must feel right now.

“Are you going to come out?” You ask him after you rap your knuckles on the door with no response. “Or do I have to take the door off the hinges?”

The lock clicks and the door opens to reveal Dean standing there, a navy blue towel slung low over his hips as droplets of water run down his chest.

“You were right.” He says quietly as he leans in the doorway. “It wasn’t about Sean.”

“I suppose it’s good we know we’re not careening towards a relapse.” You remark and he purses his lips together grimly.

“There is that.” He says before he looks at you through lowered lashes. “I can’t believe how badly I misread that situation.”

“Dean my love.” You say softly, your fingertips gracing his grizzled cheek. “Your priority has and will always be Sean, you wanted to make sure you were supporting your son in the best possible because she told you there maybe a problem. You can’t fault yourself for that.”

“I’m an idiot.” He says frankly and you shake your head in response to his words.

“No sweetheart.” You say as your arms loop around his waist, drawing him close. The dampness of his skin soaks through your clothes as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. “Really you’re not.”

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