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hitlikehammers · 2 days ago

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POV: when you overhear your boyfriend’s bandmates who ⛔️do not like you⛔️ talking to him—about YOU

“Be real though, Ed. Harrington? You can’t actually be serious, here.” Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle. Which is to say he totally does it. He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it. “You got me,” Eddie sighs, longer and deeper than can be taken wholly seriously. “I’m running my longest successful con to date.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, established relationship, corroded coffin, as in: the gang’s all here and being VERY JUDGEMENTAL of eddie’s taste in men, and maybe steve had to pick eddie up from practice today so he overhears it WHOLLY WITHOUT INTENDING TO OKAY?, no one ever REALLY want to hear what the people they love really think of them when said people don’t know who all’s actually listening, true love, declarations of feelings, it’s actually really fucking hard to stand up to your friends, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day ten: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." —Dr. Seuss

also! Unnamed Freak is Doug for the purpose of this fic because the book can fuck itself I say so 🖤

“Be real though, Ed,” the voice that filters through, and holds Steve’s hand from pushing the car door shut loud enough to notice, is fairly reasonable, like trying to talk down a suggestion absurd enough to send someone to the ER—which means, of the subjects at hand? It’s gotta be Jeff.

“You can’t actually be serious, here.”

Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle.

Which is to say he totally does it.

He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it.

“You got me,” Eddie deadpans, but it’s like, venom-laced. It stings just to hear and Steve’s struck with how much his life’s changed since Spring Break, and more still since…well.

Since Eddie.

Because Steve is well aware the man can cut glass with how sharp his tongue can get, they did go to high school together whether they ran in the same circles or not.

It’s just strikes Steve in the moment that not once since Vecna, has Eddie turns that tongue on him.

Now, other uses of his tongue—

“I’m running my longest successful con to date. Yep, totally pulled it over on all you bitches,” and where it could be playful, every single word is sharpened to stab, to pierce, to drag the wound out so it bleeds, like a shiv to remind someone where they fucked up, in perpetuity.

“Please applaud.”

And oh, even Steve flinches at that tone, and he’s not even the target. Hell, he’s still in the driveway—he doesn’t make a rule of crashing band practice, no matter whose parents’ garage they’re using; Eddie’s van is just regularly in the shop for one thing or another, so he’s gotta come get his man. But he doesn’t, like, push his way in. Sometimes doesn’t even get out of the driver’s seat. He knows Eddie would more than welcome him; has the handful of times he’s ventured to step in to apologize for interrupting but remind him they have to pick up the shitheads. But one: Eddie is alone in his welcome, and like, the polar opposite of the other three guys, who range from staring daggers at Steve to sneering so scrunched up to the nose that it’d give Carol Perkins at her snittiest a run for her money.

And Steve wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to recognise where he’s not wanted, and learn how to make the calculated decision of whether to walk or push his way in. And much as he loves Eddie? Steve actually wants his friends to eventually come around from probably, like, muttering ancestral curses under their breaths at him or something.

Plus, from what Steve understands? Jam sessions are personal. Sacred. Eddie had blushes and stammered the first time he let Steve listen in on works in progress; and Steve had rewarded him for the gift of it liberally and with genuine gusto. It’s earned him repeat performances on the regular, but Steve gets it’s a private thing in general. And these guys don’t know him, don’t presently care to—don’t trust him.

He figures it’s like…masturbating in front of someone. The art thing, the depth of making music and stuff. Showing your soul a little bit, losing control for the betterment of the final product.

Now, he and Eddie definitely have masturbated together, it’s actually fantastic foreplay, or even just a deliciously sloppy go on its own. But that’s neither here nor there. And also totally fucking different.

Steve really doesn’t want Eddie masturbating in front of anyone other than him, ever again. Steve’s sure as shit not looking to on his end; definitely not with the other members of Corroded fucking Coffin.

The metaphor might have gotten away from him. But you get the picture.

“No, man,” and that’s, that’s Gareth’s voice, Steve’s almost sure. Sharper. Concerned but also caustic on the undertow. “It’s just,” he snorts, the disbelieving sort: “this can’t be real.”

Okay, yeah. Tone plus actual words add up.

“Yeah, just,” Doug laughs a little nervous, like of all of them, Eddie’s verbal attack had the most weight in tempering his response of the three of them; “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

They all chuckle, but it’s toned down the whole way around—even Steve can clock that. These guys are boisterous when left to their devices, Steve’s taken note of that. Mostly watching from the sidelines—almost exclusively when they don’t know he’s there to watch.

Again: does not condone eavesdropping.

Does not try at all to refrain from doing it.

“I mean, you don’t expect us to believe you’re actually fucking him,” and oh, yeah, okay: Steve was pretty sure he was the topic conversation here, and despite some of the setbacks of recent years, he’s not insecure when it comes to relationships especially.

He’s definitely the only one fucking Eddie. And Eddie’s the only one fucking him.

And while he doesn’t really hold it against these guys for being wary of him—he wasn’t really a perpetrator of their high school woes, but he definitely didn’t do anything to make them less…woeful—so he’s mostly bummed about it for Eddie’s sake, and on principle, but like, seriously.

Doubting Steve successfully scoring Eddie Munson? Like, Eddie’s a catch, Steve of ll people is well aware, but. Steve’s also been long past fishing the shallow end of the pond, y’know?

Give him some credit.

“Right,” Steve narrows back in on what’s happening in the garage that he’s definitely feeling less guilty bout, seeing as he’s definitely a subject of the debate unfolding, but Eddie sounds…angry. Pissed off in that way he gets when he’s fed the fuck up.

“I’m out,” Steve hears scraping of equipment, the guitar case flipped open; “can’t actually make it next week,” he adds like a footnote.

It’s clear within a second he’s the only one who takes it with that same…energy.

“But we have to practice before the open mic—” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, sounds baffled; on his way to ticked off but not quite there yet.

Eddie, however—as is his wont in this type of mood—could not give two shits where the people around him land on the anger-o-meter; he’s exceeded them, even if only in his own head, and they are all therefore irrelevant to his very responsible decision to put distance between himself and doing something stupid he can’t take back.

It’s not the nicest way to deal but, honestly? Steve’s mostly just proud of Eddie for sticking with a coping mechanism that, while not without consequences, generally works better than most.

“I’ll see you guys in two, then. Probably.” And the case clicks shut, definitive, and Steve’s proud of that too; that Eddie’s not digging a hole when the guys re trying to bait him, intentionally or not, over Steve.

Steve doesn’t need Eddie to complicate his band, his friendships, over what the two of them have. One, it’s not their fucking business. And two?

Steve doesn’t thing he’s being self-important in saying he and Eddie…are bigger, and more, than even the very beat high school band.

Not that Steve would ever ask Eddie to choose or some bullshit like that. And he really does believe Eddie’s going places, if that’s what he decides he wants. But…there’s that.

Then there is them.

Different, like, stratospheres.

“What the fuck came up that you can’t make it next week? When we’re staring down our first actual shot at Battle of the Bands this year,” and yeah, of course, if anyone’s gonna try to drag the whole thing out, it’s Gareth. Kid’s got a fucking temper.

“Something more important.”

Which yeah, that’s what was going through Steve’s mind, basically, but—

“The hell could be more—“

“I have plans,” Eddie hisses, viper-quick and fucking deadly, shuts them all right up for it, but then he spins a 180–preens so big Steve swears he can hear his shoulders go back and his chest puff out:

“It’s my anniversary.”

So…yeah. Just because it was where Steve’s head had just been at doesn’t mean his whole chest goes all gooey to hear it said out loud.

And in front of Eddie’s band, who…they aren’t hiding from, but they have discussed keeping kinda mum around. For the same kinds of reasons Steve’s been privy to just in the past couple minutes.

But then Eddie’s voice follows the feeling in Steve’s chest like they’re tethered there, and honestly, more times than not?

Steve thinks they just might actually be, and he’s not proven wrong with the way Eddie halfway coos:

“Our anniversary.”

“Your what?”

Jeff, again, is that middle ground: actually confused, laced with being angry that Eddie’s ducking out.

“Six months,” Eddie answers, soft-like, a little dreamy but in this way that’s rooted somehow still, and in being struck all over again by a level of shock Steve understands, sometimes feels in reverse, but still doesn’t understand being felt so deep as it sounds, now, when it’s applied to…him.

It’s wild y’know?

“I’m like,” Steve hears Eddie’s curls brush against something as he shakes his head—Steve’s money’s on him crouched by his case, or having it already slung over his shoulder:

“Never thought I’d get something to celebrate like that in the first place, but get to keep it, that long without fucking it up?”

Steve, again, wants to give up the pretense and walk the fuck in there and kiss the shit out of his boyfriend because one, same, but two?

Dumbass.

Steve goddamn adores him.

“You mean, with Harrington?” Gareth’s spitting and Steve just shakes his head, a little sad—he doesn’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass about him, man; he’s not so much younger that Steve never saw him or didn’t know of him but godDamn: the circles he ran in at the time weren’t the ones doing shit yet when they were in the same elementary school, Steve was barely popular in middle school, and come high school the worst anyone he knew did to the frosh was bang them into a locker—not great, but.

Not worth this shit. And the worst part is if he doesn’t know what’s crawled he did to really piss Gareth off this bad? He can’t even try to Harrington-charm his way back into the guy’s tolerable category. Like, even his best fucking not-pot brownie recipe didn’t sway the fucker.

“Yes,” Eddie is answering, the answer emphatic, like he’s brimming with feeling over it, but then clipped too, like demonstrating that he was brimming and is now being forced to clip it all backis very much the intent: “of course I mean with Steve, who the fuck else?”

It’s not lost on Steve how Eddie says his name. Ever. All the name.

But right now, how he’s making a point to say it in that warm, kinda…beloved way, when anyone else uses his last name in a way that’s anything-but.

“You cannot be—” Gareth scoffs, Steve can imagine him throwing up his hands, that sort of deal, but then Eddie comes in, and it’s a tone Steve’s only ever hear when he’s about to run a campaign into the ground where the characters may never recover, and if somehow manage it, they’ll wish they hadn’t:

“Oh, I am deadly serious.”

Because it’s not Steve’s character, but in defense of Steve’s relationship, that tone trickles something molten through his veins and prickles up his spine and…he’s gone have to stick that one in his back pocket to explore at a later date, for sure.

“Six months?”

Jeff—and Steve kinda likes Jeff, and not for the reason his bandmates would like, that he kicks around Hawkins after graduation, too, but more because Steve knows why; that’s to make more money for a college outside Indiana, and Steve thinks that’s fucking cool—but it’s here where Jeff dips fully away from being angry to being stupefied. Steve lets himself smirk at nothing because fuck yes: him and Eddie.

Six whole goddamn months.

“I was actually gonna ask you guys to come over soon, introduce him properly and stuff,” Eddie says, the disappointment in his voice again; Steve’s niggling desire to go and hug him from behind, maybe kiss under his ear a little, back in full force.

“He picks you up from practice, we see him,” Doug pipes back up, likewise confused, but Steve just takes the useful confirmation that no one did catch on that he pulled up ages ago, now.

“We know who Steve Harrington is—” Gareth snaps, protests in the way that betrays his eye-rolling, his thin-wearing patience.

“No!”

And that comes out of Eddie fierce enough to echo down at least half the block they’re on—seems like Eddie’s patience was worn out a while ago.

“You don’t!”

And everyone is silent in that way Steve knows all too well: when shit’a gone down but now you’re waiting in the edge for the worse thing to hit.

Then it does:

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it up because you dipshits aren’t ready,” Eddie snaps, says dipshitso different from how he does with the Party, theirParty, their kids; he says it here with something real fucking close to disgust.

“Asking hostage questions, fuck off,” he huffs, and Steve hears Eddie’s footsteps, can’t tell if he’s gonna leave it at that, come find Steve and know he’s been standing there but that’ll be fine, it’s not like Steve wasn’t going to let him know as soon as they left—but then:

“Look,” and Eddie sounds the way Steve sounds when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose to fight a growing migraine, the sting of tears for all sorts of pain behind his eyes, and that hurts to hear from his boyfriend, like, a lot.

It fucking hurts.

“I am not just fucking him,” Eddie growls through the bridge-pinching pain; “I mean, fuck yes, I am, but,” and Steve hears the way he swallows all the way down the drive:

“I’m in this for the long haul,” Eddie tells his bandmates like throwing down a gauntlet; “and if you can’t respect me enough, and my choices, that stings,” Steve knows Eddie shrugs then: “but I’ll live.”

Steve’s about a millisecond from saying fuck it, opening the door just to slam it to announce his approach, and then going to physically grab his boyfriend, drag him to the car, and park in the abandoned lot down from the Wheelers’ neighborhood to kiss him senseless because that’s the closest place he can think of and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to either of their homes before he can’t fucking handle himself.

“But if you are gonna disrespect the man I love, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddies voice is a deadly sort of whisper. Steve would cower at it, the way it washes through a person, if he hadn’t just…said.

That.

“You love him?”

And for what Steve thinks is the first time since he climbed out of the car and committed to listening where he wasn’t invited, Gareth sounds…muted. Genuinely asking a question.

Steve, for his own part, kinda expected that he’d be more breathless, heart racing and shit, to hear the answer but in reality?

“Of course I love him.”

Steve already knew that in his cells, in his bones.

In his steady, not all-that-fast but particularly-especially-happily beating heart.

“Have you guys, like, said it and stuff?”

And of course Steve already knows that answer, both the literal one and the one that matters more, but he does perk up a bit, curious to hear what—if anything of note—Eddie chooses to give away here.

“He has,” Eddie says, and now…now maybe Steve should stop listening because this part, the way Eddie says that as flat fact—Steve doesn’t knowthis part beyond speculation. But…

“I wanted to, like,” and eddies voice can’t hide the way he’s gotta have that soft smile, the one he used to hide behind his hair before Steve started pulling it back to see in full, so now he only brings his hair out just to tease, to okay.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted much in my whole life, but he’s,” and Steve thinks he hears how Eddie chews his bottom lip for a second, in the subtlest click of how it slips free before Eddie takes a deep breath and—

“He doesn’t know what he’s worth,” Eddie starts, a little mournful almost, even, and Steve is unexpectedly glued to the spot in his fucking Nikes.

“He doesn’t understand that I’d sell the sun and the moon just to keep him,” Eddie’s saying, and with passion. With whole-ass honesty. And here, maybe, is where Steve gets to have some of the heart:fluttery feeling after all:

“He comes out the gate with the whole you don’t have to say it back and I just,” Eddie sighs, sniffs a little before heaving another breath deep enough to stretch his shirt, which Steve’s not imagining or anything, at all;

“I couldn’t say it, not right then, and risk him everthinking it was something I’d done to like, match. Like that I didn’t mean it with everything I’ve got, when I mean it with everything I’ve got and then also everything else. Like, anywhere. Ever.”

Steve realized he’d stopped breathing at some point when the little dots start floating in front of his eyes and he sucks in a shaking breath because: he’s known Eddie loves him. Unshakeably.

But, but all this—

“I couldn’t say it and have him ever wondered if I wouldn’t rip my heart out of my chest just to keep his safe.”

And of-fucking-course Steve’s pulse is running fucking riot about how much he’s in love right now, make no goddamn mistake. Jesus, he—

“Fuck.”

And Steve has never heard Gareth Emerson pushed just this side of speechless but: that’s the best way Steve can describe the kind of breathless wonder he says it with, like watching a rare bird take flight.

“You mean it.”

And Steve can pick out Eddie’s huffs and categorize them, on demand at this point: he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to know Eddie’s deemed the expression of pure shock to be so beneath him in this specific context that he’s deemed it unworthy of any more attention.

His heart’s not jumping that loud to have missed it. So.

Steve just kinda grins toward the blacktop under his shoes.

“Why didn’t you,” Doug starts, still—usually, really, in Steve’s limited experience at least—the peacekeeper, the one who’s most invested at the human level when he’s not getting swept up in whatever the rest of the gang has deemed the cool thing to laugh at or make fun of at any given moment.

The huff Eddie gives this time is his incredulous one, which allows for just the slightest bit more consideration:

“The fuck do you think?”

The slightest bit, being the operative point.

“I’d hoped you’d take it better but,” Eddie adds, and there’s less drama in it than Steve might have expected. He’s being serious with them, and he sounds…disappointed.

Steve kinda want to make some kind of noise, give away his position, and just…hug Eddie tight from behind, if nothing else. Be there. Solid against him, wrapped up around him. Never wavering. Always at his back as much as at his side.

But Eddie’s not done:

“I’m not even asking you to like him, just be decent,” and it sounds like it hurts him to say as much, and Steve knows why; he genuinely despises when anyone thinks Lea with a the very beat thing about Steve. Steve believes this to be n unreasonable standard, and has expressed as much to Eddie who nods and smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead and does absolutely nothing to change his stance, but deep down?

Steve fucking feels so…loved for it.

“And like I said,” Steve can hear the judgement in Eddie’s tone clear as day; “you’re not ready, and I’m not putting him in that kind of situation.”

Steve sucks on the inside of his cheek, lest his grin at the way Eddie is not just defending him, but…protecting him, not his honor but his heart…

No ones ever even tried that before. Steve may not need it, or maybe he just learned he couldn’t survive needing it.

Getting it now…now it’s just…

Wow.

“And I’m in this for keeps, like, this is a forever type thing, so long as he wants it,” Eddie saying, explaining the color of a sky to a small child like what these words are that fundamental, that unalterably true. “So—”

“We’ve known each other forever, man,” Gareth eventually mutters, sounds indignant, but mostly gutted.

Steve knows before it happens that it’s not gonna make a difference.

“And we can still know each other. Just not everything, anymore,” and Eddie does sound a little sad but he’s…he’s a monolith, unshakable. “I don’t trust you with the parts that revolve around him, yet,” and Steve feels more than hears the ways his friends deflate, maybe shrink for being deemed so…insufficient. In the eyes of their ostensible leader, no less.

“Eddie, we didn’t,” Jeff starts, slow, and he doesn’t sound remorseful but—Eddie has all those coping mechanisms for a reason, right?

Because he’s quick to feeling, good and bad, and sometimes neither is fit to the moment.

Steve can’t help but be kinda glad Eddie doesn’t bother with those mechanisms just now, though, if it means he gets to hear this part:

“I know you didn’t, that’s the fucking problem,” Eddie groans, Steve can see the way he lens, bends at the knees and throws his body around a little in sheer, undiluted exasperation. “

“Because I could tell you he’s changed since school, and that’d be true, but that’s not even it,” and there’s more of the frustrated stomping round, Steve can hear it, but he’s…he’s ready distracted by that thing in his chest that has to has to be tied up in Eddie’s, too, that thing tugging on him to pay the fuck attention.

And who is he to ignore it?

“he was never who we thought he was in school in the first place. He is,” Eddie licks his lips, just to snack them loud:

“He is kind and funny, and goofy, and such a fuckin’ nerd, and he’s smart in these incredible ways where he’s sees what everyone else misses, and he’s protective as fuck and he’s got a heart of gold,” and Eddie’s voice only gets more heartfelt in its own right that longer he goes and Steve just, he’s, it’s—

“And I would tear my skin off just so it doesn’t get so much as a scuff on it,” Eddie ends with the most scathing delivery imaginable: he fucking meansthis shit. And Steve is going o live and die next to this man, scuffed heart still kept safe to the fucking end, he will swear that shit to anyone who needs to hear it.

He is going to have a whole fucking life with Eddie Munson, and love him for every single breath of it.

“And I don’t trust you guys yet not to tempt me to tear off my skin,” Eddie says finally after enough silence to catch his breath, and temper his tone just enough to sound tired; a little dejected. “I don’t trust you with him, and until that changes, we’re still friends,” Eddie sniffs, breathes out long; “you just won’t get to know about that part of me.”

He says it so simple, like he’s not half-cutting off some of the longest, closest friendships he’s ever had, and for Steve.

Steve doesn’t know if it makes him a person, or a really selfish one or whatever, if he doesn’t feel any urge to talk Eddie down, to make him walk it back just a little.

He doesn’t think he cares, though, either way.

“Seems like a really big part of you,” Doug says, deflated entirely.

“It is,” Eddie answers, unapologetic in a way that swells and sparkles in Steve’s ribs. “He is.”

“You’d walk from the band?” Of course Gareth asks, but it’s the first time he sounds small in his words. Like he maybe knows the answer, and isn’t so okay with how he got around to it even before Eddie wishes all doubt:

“In half a fuckin’ heartbeat.” Boom. Done. No hesitation whatsoever.

Less than half-a-fuckin’-heartbeat.

“That’s not what I’m saying I’m doing right now, but,” Eddie laughs a little, and that probably cuts deeper than anything for the boys, Steve suspects, especially when Eddie makes it unquestionable:

“It’s not even a question.”

And…maybe that drives a knife deeper for the band, but for Steve?

Steve kinda wants to…giggle, or some shit. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted someone who answered a question like that, exactly like that, who talked about Steve exactly like that, without anything to gain, just because they…believed it.

“Jesus,” Gareth mutters, sounds kinda blindsided, kinda thrown and then some.

“If we,” Jeff clears his throat after a long period of quiet; “if we do better, could we meet him someday?” And the way he says it, earnest and shit:, like he wants to at least think about, at least maybe try:

“Like, really meet him?”

Like Eddie means enough that he’ll try, and that sings sweet in Steve’s veins because goddamn straight, his Eddie deserves that from the people hecares about. No matter who or what Steve is, Eddiedeserves that much, and so much more.

But he sounds like even just this is something amazing, Steve can hear the smile in his voice:

“Yeah, man,” he answers Jeff, claps him audibly on the shoulder; “I look forward to it.”

And shit, y’know what?

So does Steve.

“See you in two weeks,” and Eddies footsteps follow, guitar slung over his back for the way his weight falls with each one, but then:

“Eddie!”

That’s Doug; the footsteps stop close to the edge of the garage door as another set rushes to catch up, where he’ll see Steve if he walks much farther, where Steve’s got his hand on the door handle of the car, slowly inching it open to push shut and look wholly-unsuspicious now that Eddie might be followed out to his ride:

“Get him flowers. For your anniversary,” Doug says, tone low like a secret; “I know, like, it might seem like guys wouldn’t want flowers, but,” and Steve actually has to strain to hear the next part:

“My mom gets my dad flowers on his birthday every year, and he lights up like the Fourth of July.”

Steve remembers the first time he ever got flowers. His favorites, even if he thinks he only knew it subconsciously because they were handed to him with the stammering explanation of I don’t even know if you like flowers, or like these ones, but you look at them when we’re out, like, just walking or something and your eyes linger, and these ones just remind me of you and—

Apparently, Steve loves hyacinths. And sunflowers make Eddie think of him.

Because of course Steve’s first gift of flowers came from Eddie.

“Thanks man,” Eddie sounds the lightest, most genuine Steve’s heard him since he pulled up and got out of the car; “they’re already ordered.”

And Doug chuckles, and Steve?

Steve bites down his smile to less exploding-star levels—if he’d just pulled up he doesn’t have a reason, save that Eddie is enough of a reason in Steve’s eyes, his mind, the way his chest expands just thinking on him—as he pulls the car door closed again, loud enough to be noticed.

For Eddie to walk out of the garage fast as anything and meet Steve with a smile of his own that justifies the fuck out of where Steve’s had started, anyway.

All star-bright and everything.

♥️🎸♥️

✨also on ao3✨

btw this is either titled ‘halcyon shoegazing’ or ‘heart in your shoes’ so if you have an opinion you should maybe tell me or something, my brain’s tired and is resisting decisions rn

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #post s4 #established relationship #corroded coffin #as in: the boys are here #and they DO NOT APPROVE OF STEVE #and think it’s absolutely essential to confront eddie about what the hell he thinks he’s doing with HARRINGTON of all people #and yeah okay: maybe steve OVERHEARS IT ALL #it’s 100% accidental though #eddie’s van is just in the shop! he needs a ride from band practice!#fluff #romance #anniversary #eddie munson: COME DEFEND YOUR MAN #true love #declarations #love confessions #steve harrington gets to feel all warm and gooey about his boyfriend okay? he deserves that #stranger things #steddielovemonth #prompt: we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 days ago

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FIRE BREATHING—wait, haven't i seen this before ?! - the dragon's route ☆ !

cashmoneyyysstuff's big 6K event!!

synopsis : big red horns, sharp fangs, fiery breath and a blazing temper—meet your new mate katsuki !! and.. the big ass whole in your wall ?!

you were hoping to start your day off like usual, but apparently it seemed the universe just didn't want it that way.

based on the something that had just blasted through the wall of your dorm room.

despite almost jumping to your ceiling, you're still in a daze. which is why when you managed to catch a mop of blond through your misty eyes—despite the big ass red horns and massive wings towering behind its back, the first word you uttered was a sleepy—

"kahsuki...?"

after which, you promptly fall back asleep.

when you wake up again. you jump to the ceiling again, but for a couple of different reasons.

you've definitely overslept and were no doubt going to have to rush to class.

your boyfriend was mostly likely already on his way to your dorm room and would definitely not be happy to have to wait for you.

it feels pretty chilly all of a sudden, you realise— only to then realise there was a damn hole in your fucking wall.

hole in the wall. something blasted through your wall. something was still in your room when you fell back asleep. you fell back asleep.

how the hell did you fall back asleep ??!!!!

"i was wondering when you'd awaken, you sleep like a log." the deep rumble of the something's voice startles you. you look to your right, only to see...

"katsuki ?"

except it wasn't...quite him. big red horns had sprouted along the sides of his head, his bored slanted eyes seemed just a bit sharper, just a bit redder. you could catch the glint of a little red earring, and you absolutely couldn't miss the mountains of jewellery he had dangling around his neck. nor the tribal looking tattoos (when'd he get those done ?) on his arms and his very exposed chest.

he hums, choosing to ignore your words to continue staring at you. "i'll ignore you using my name so casually, 'cus your face isn't..." he trails off, reaching a large hand out to smush your cheeks together "...too bad to look at." he settles.

you're absolutely, completely, positively, stumped.

"what are you talking about ?" you paw at his wrist to get him to release you. he doesn't let go, but he does relent and soften his hold slightly.

"how'd you get in my room ? and wha'd ya do to m'wall ?" you ask sleepily, bleary eyes squinting at your boyfriend's bored face.

"you called for me. so here i am." he answered simply. simple as that and it looked like he had absolutely no intention of elaborating. you, still being very sleepy, decide to say the only other thing on your mind.

"i didn't know you liked cosplaying..."

katsuki tilts his head, everything on him dangles "what the hell are you on about ? prattling on like that...you humans say some strange things."

you turn to look at the giant hole in your wall, really look at it.

you point towards the sun shining in your face, reminding you it was very much time to wake up "wha—ka'suki, my wall—"

"i'll fix it later." your boyfriend groans. "but why ?"

"i just told you—"

"but i didn't—"

knock, knock !!

you both perk up as a rather loud series of bangs rattle your door. oh god, katsuki was here and you still hadn't gotten dressed!! you can already hear him complaining—

wait but—

you turn to look at katsuki with the horns. he's let go off your face by now and his eyes are fixed on the door like he's ready to pounce.

you jump, leap up from your bed. grab a fistful of your handle and swing it open and—

"katsuki ?"

"the hell are doin' ? class starts in like, twenty minutes ! i swear, this is the last fuckin' time i'm coming to pick your ass up..."

he rambles and mumbles and you know he's lying cus this is the second time this week he's said this exact same phrase. but you feel like you've just been hit dead on by a sound grenade.

wait but—

"the fuck happened here ?!" katsuki's eyes immediately flit to your decimated wall, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry, and then his eyes flit past you to katsuki (?) already on his feet still in front of your bed. . . .

"AND WHO THE FUCK IS THAT??!!"

"MORE LIKE WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU ?!" katsuki barks. and you cannot believe it when your boyfriend starts bickering with...himself.

god, you wish you could go back to sleep.

"...can anybody tell me what's happening here ?"

"that's what i'd like to know !" you're boyfriend exclaimed from the your left, foot tapping impatiently on the floor, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed "sensei, you better deal with this weirdo 'fore i do it !" he warned.

"as if ! don't make me laugh, like a weakling like you could lay a finger on me." your boyfriend, the one on your right and with the— oh yeah —the horns and a tail—growled. arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, legs spread out laying back like he was demanding dominance in the room, occasionally glaring at the other teachers walking in and out the lounge.

you have a margin of about .2 seconds, a singular eye twitch from your boyfriend before they're both shooting up from their seats, foreheads almost knocking against each other " HAH ?! you trynna talk shit wearin' my face, you faker ?! i'll roast you alive !" your (original ? is that what you should call it ?) boyfriend's already rolling up his sleeves, hands popping in warning.

the dragon barks out a loud laugh "try it if you want, i"ll rip you apart 'till there's nothin' left of ya !" he growls, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

all you can manage is a sigh while they bicker, missing how the both of them shoot you a brief look. until your homeroom teacher sends chills through all three of your spines, sending you a harsh glare and a singular rackle of his throat sends every ounce of killing intent in the room flying, overpowered by the dead eye of the man before you. you didn't sign up to have your fight of flight instincts kick in this early in the morning !

neither of them sit back down, but they do rip they gazes away from each other to look at the bigger threat in the room, occasionally sending each other nasty side eyes.

mr. aizawa rubs at his temples and lets out a very, very tired sigh, pushing his hair back "now...can anyone tell me what is happening ?" he starts up again, he sighs when no one seems to have an answer for him. the black haired man points to your boyfriend with the horns "you, answer quickly—what's your name ?"

the horned boy grumbles, but lowly growls out an answer "bakugou katsuki, better not forget it.." you hear your boyfriend let out a quiet scoff on your other side. aizawa sensei ignore it, quickly whipping a finger towards him.

"you. has anything happened to you recently ? have you had any strange interactions lately ?"

katsuki racks his brain, thinking for a moment before he grunts "mm, i guess...was out to get groceries last weekend and this weirdo bumped into me. started apologising like crazy too, somethin' about how 'the after effects shouldn't be too bad' or whatever."

"that's suspicious as hell !!" you gawk "why didn't you say anything when it happened ?!" you exclaim.

"i don't fucking know, thought he was just a crackhead or something ! how was i supposed to know this was gonna happen ?!" katsuki shoots back, pointing over to his doppelgänger. mr aizawa nods to himself, mildly intrigued.

"okay, so we've narrowed down our cause...the problem is what we do now." you bite your lip in thought. your boyfriend finally takes his seat back next to you and the beast stiffens, immediately shooting back down next to you as well and even scooting his chair closer to yours. getting an unimpressed eye-roll from your boyfriend, before he sneakily tries to do the same.

"ain't it obvious ? all we gotta do is send this bastard back where he came from." you turn to look up at the beast katsuki's shoulder pressed to yours. honestly as unbelievable as it was in this situation you couldn't help but be reminded of those cheesy otome games you used to like when you were younger. or those random 12 episode anime you'd watch where the main boys would fight for the girls love—except this was your boyfriend ! and if the room wasn't so tense this would kinda be a dream come true—but you needed to focus !

"uhm, well...katsuki..?" and both of them immediately turn to you, it almost makes you jump—snap out of it. "..how do we send you back ?" katsuki stares at you then sends you an amused huff.

"wouldn't know," he shrugs. and then he's already so close but leans in closer and if you hadn't backed up in time your noses would've bumped. "pretty bold of you to try and send me away after you called me, sweets. but you're not getting rid of me that easy."

your skin heats up despite your best efforts "i—keep telling you i didn't call you ! i don't even know how i would do that !"

he's so in your space, leaning in ever closer despite you trying to keep your distance and he talks to you lowly "if you're worried about these morons hearing you, rest assured i'll clear this place out in no time. no different from any old dungeon in here." he boasts proudly, you can practically taste your ticking time bomb of a boyfriend about to basically implode from next to you.

quickly, you place your hand on top of his leg basically by instinct. his leg stops bouncing but he still sounds anything but pleased, he practically burns behind you as he grumbles under his breath. you feel bad for your homeroom teacher who can only watch and sigh.

"anyway. we'll wait and see what happens after a while. l/n, this bakugou seems pretty attached to you so i'll grant you and excused absence to watch over him until we get this sorted out." the older man explained. your katsuki immediately straightens up.

"oh, fuck no ! i'm not letting' her stay with this creep ?!"

"i know it might not be ideal, but you can't exactly take him to class." your teacher sweatdrops. the blonde can't exactly disagree and he curses under his breath. you take this chance to reassure him, rubbing his leg soothingly.

"i'll be all good, katsuki. you don't need to worry." you smile

your boyfriend searches your face for any signs of distress, sends his clone one look then immediately looks back at you with hardened eyes " i'll stay with you then."

your teacher cuts you off before you can respond "i don't remember allowing you to cut class, bakugou." you both stiffen at his tone. you feel a bit bad when you see how conflicted he looks between being a secret goodie two shoes and wanting to watch over you.

"hey," you assured, "i'll be fine. besides, it's still you so it shouldn't be all bad." you tease. and even though he still looks a bit worried, katsuki resigns and sighs lowly saying "if he does anything to you i'll fucking kill 'im." you pat his shoulder in agreement and katsuki sets out to go to class (not before sending horned katsuki a very deadly glare you're sure would've killed anyone else if it wasn't to designated to...himself.)

your attention is brought back to your teacher who is also starting to make his way to class, grabbing his sleeping bag and complaining about being 'too tired for this...'

"well i'll leave you to it. l/n, if you need anything let me know." and though he stays deadpanned, the tone of his voice is warm and you know he means it, you nod, he sighs, then leaves you alone with katsuki...number two ?

you could make the best out of this, you had to until you could figure something out. "well, let's try to get along then, yeah ?" you smiled, reaching a hand out to shake his. katsuki scowls down at your hand like it was nasty before grabbing it and pulling you up with him until your pressed right against his chest, you can see the identical faded scar under his eye better now, your heart hammers hard against your chest. or was it his ? you can't tell the difference.

he presses his nose to yours "i won't accept you treating me like your comerade. you're mine, i'm yours, and you will treat me as such." he commands. he leans forward and bites your cheek softly "understand ?"

all you can manage is a dumb nod. katsuki seems happy with himself, and smirks. he squeezes your hand then tells you to lead the way. you nod robotically, and while you walk back trying to avoid crowded hallways, you remember.

"ah ! hey, about my wall..!"

"tch, i got it. told you i'd fix it didn't i ?"

as promised, katsuki had fixed your wall, somehow. you won't question it.

aside from that, it was just you and your literal other worldly boyfriend now.

currently, you've been allowed to skip class. seeing as it would be quite the hassle to bring what looked like a barbarian bakugou into class. he had already caused enough trouble in the teacher's lounge and your homeroom teacher had determined that if he worked like any other bakugou, he'd be manageable with you around.

your katsuki, your boyfriend katsuki, had used any free time he could find to check up on you through text, openly very opposed to leaving you alone with his clone (although the other katsuki insisted that your boyfriend was his clone.) but you managed to reassure him. and you'd really, really like to avoid another death match like the one from this morning.

so, it was currently just you and him.

"so what do you wanna eat, you must be hungry right ? we've still got left over pancake mix in here if you'd like !" you call from where your head is hidden inside the cupboard.

you're a little bit happy that you're able to properly have breakfast considering you did sleep in. you turn to see dragon katsuki (he insisted on the fact that he was in fact a dragon and not a demon.) still carefully scanning the common room with his eyes. looking around for anything off like a hunter as he slowly makes his way over to you.

"you don't have to be scared, y'know ? it's just us here." you manage to tease, you think you're only able to mess with him because he is your boyfriend...in a way. he huffs loudly, chest puffing out while he continues to scan the area "don't insult me, m'not afraid of nuffin'." he boasts.

yup, definitely your katsuki...

"alright, tough guy.." you hum. picking up all your ingredients to begin making your breakfast peacefully without kaminari around to try to catch a lick of the batter or a bite of your pancakes. dragon katsuki finally gets curious enough seeing you prancing around the stove and makes his way over to you, looming over your shoulder, he runs very warm and you will yourself to ignore it.

"want some ? " you ask, still whipping your batter around, adding some extra milk to make it extra fluffy.

"what is it ?" he asks, scrunching his nose up. he leans closer to your shoulder to sniff at the mix.

"pancakes—well, not yet, but it will be." you explain. "they're good." you reassure and he grunts. which with your katsuki, was usually meant as an agreement.

you freeze up for a moment when you feel him lay his head on your shoulder, before promptly continuing. is this still weird even if it's your boyfriend's clone ? other version from another dimension ?

"so...what brings you here ?" you spoke awkwardly. katsuki's breath hits the side of your neck when he turns to look up at you.

"i've told you a million times already." he almost whines.

"and i keep asking because you make no sense ! i didn't call for you, i would've just...used my phone if i wanted you over !" you spluttered.

"that flimsy piece of plastic is as useless as the rest of your human technology. that has nothing to do with it." he presses his hand to your heart and speaks lowly when he continues "this called for me, right here." you feel your heart hammer, no doubt he feels it too because a soft little smirk forms on his face. "so, i came." a bigger smirks builds on his face when he looks up at you "you should be grateful really, i don't give my time to just anyone."

you scoff, he banters exactly like your boyfriend too. "oh, i feel so honoured that you destroyed my wall." you deadpan.

he rolls his eyes with a whinge "but i fixed it, no ?"

"there was no need for you to destroy it in the first place ! talk about a first impression." you huff.

"you're mine, no need for first impressions if i already know you were made for me." katsuki grumbles.

your heart skips despite itself, you try to remain poised "yours, huh ?"

"you are, and you seem to like the sound of that, too." he smirks.

"do not !" you deny.

"your heartbeat has picked up again—oh, and again just now—" you shrug your shoulder to try and nudge him off, embarrassed. but all it does is make him laugh and wrap his arms around you. you try to ignore the fact he is very shirtless behind you. you pour your batter onto your skillet.

"it did not, you liar."

"ya forget my hearing is superior to yours, sweets. i hear every little sound you make. can't hide shit from me."

"la, la la—damn, this is sizzling so hard i just cannot make out a single thing you're saying !" you say dramatically loud. you feel katsuki shake his head and he leans up to nip at your ear like he knows it'll make you squeal.

yup, that's your boyfriend alright...

the dragon boy has destroyed about ten pancakes and two glasses of juice before he calls it quits. he's a bit of a messy eater, but you don't mind much. (that is one difference you've managed to find between him and your boyfriend.)

you're sitting across from him and now that you've calmed down you take your time to look at his features. you really look at him.

"what's your name ?" you ask. he raises a brow at your sudden question, gulping down a last bite of fluffy pancake.

"you know my name." he answers simply.

"just—c'mon !" you whine, he rolls his eyes but relents anyway.

"bakugou, katsuki."

" okay..." you continue warily " how old are you ?"

"eighteen."

built like that ?! although your boyfriend's always had a pretty...impressive body—you quickly shake these thoughts away. okay, same age as your boyfriend.

"favorite food ?"

"don't care s'long as it's spicy."

"what's your favourite colour ?"

"fuckin'—who cares ?" he grumbles.

holy shit, this was your katsuki.

"i just don't get it, you're both so much alike !" you marveled, stretching out across the island table, dragon katsuki makes a displeased face at your words but doesn't comment, licking his fingers.

"you look so much like katsuki, too—well, my katsuki, other than the horns.." you look down behind the high chair he's sitting at, his now missing tail. he'd told you he could tuck it away, somehow. things could not get any weirder than this, you're sure. "...and the tail."

katsuki pops a maple syrup covered finger out of his mouth to stare at you. "i am your katsuki. and if you're talking about the usurper you shouldn't worry, i'll have dealt with 'im soon." he spits out, scowling down at his plate. then he looks around the room. "where is he, anyway ?"

you sweatdrop "you don't need to worry about him right now, yeah ? it's just us two here." and you fail to notice the way his eyes zero on you at your words "and please don't do anything to him, i'd rather not have my boyfriend try and kill...himself ?" you wonder, running a hand across your forehead. too focused to realise the dragon boy had made is way over to you.

you squeak when you feel a hard head of hair knock against the side of your skull, nudging at you like a cat. and instinctively, you turn around to meet eyes identical with the one's you love so much. his eyes are sharp and fiery red as they fix onto yours.

"you're too focused on that guy...stop thinkin' about him so much when your mate's right in front of you, dammit..." he mutters, cheeks slowly turning pink and the hard base of his horns dig against your scalp. your heart thrums faster inside your chest. this katsuki was so different and yet so similar to the one you were used to. it simply felt like you got to see another side to the boy you loved.

"don't start getting jealous of yourself now, suki." you tease. you put a bit more of your weight against him and he pushes back with a low growl, closing his eyes and nudging against your head and neck. you could've sworn you just heard a sort of purr sound coming from him ?

"that sham is everything except me, quit insulting me." he shoots, you can feel his jaw tighten from where he's nestled in your shoulder and it's literally instinctive how your hand reaches up to pet his hair and—oh, there it is again, that rumble that comes all the way from his chest that you feeling radiating through your bones. he seems very happy.

you snort at his words and decide to mess with him "my sincerest apologies, is there anything i can do to make you forgive me ?"

but then he's leaning up to look at you and the atmosphere is tense, so tense. you're tempted to hold your breath. he looks at you intensely, studying your next move like you were actual prey.

"i mean..." he starts quietly "there is something you could do..."

oh, oh it's coming. you know that look.

god, he really is your katsuki. you quickly squeeze your eyes shut and wait, but what you expect doesn't come. you peek at him when you feel his forehead connect to yours again. he speaks, still just as quiet but just as intensely.

"promise me. promise me you'll be mine. forever." he orders, breathing getting just a bit heavier, or maybe that was yours—had it always been this hot ?

"y-yeah, yeah of course i am..." and he leans in to lick at your cheek, gnawing at it like a dog.

you giggle "yes, i promise !" he seems happy with your answer, a softer smile forms on his face as he looks at you like you're treasure.

"right, i'll hold ya to it then."

and the instant you blink—he's gone.

you're left alone to think about what the hell just happened, left with the extra dishes you'd made for your mysterious guest.

about a few hours later, your boyfriend—the non dragon one—practically charges into your room, almost destroying your door in the process. you'd heard him stomping down the hallway so you weren't too phased.

"where is he ?! where is that fucking overgrown, horned, lizard fucker at ?!" katsuki charges in like a bull—hands popping and ready for action, he's looks like he's sweating a bit too and you wonder if he ran here.

"he's already gone, suki." you giggle, putting your phone down to properly look at him "he left a few hours beforehand. i guess there's a sort of time limit to this quirk, huh ? but then i wonder why it acts so late.." you think to yourself out loud. you've just noticed that your boyfriend has been way too quiet when you suddenly feel your bed dip and his big hands drop down onto your cheeks to turn you around as he sees fit, ignoring your squeals of protest.

"what happened while i was gone ? did he do anything—did he touch you ?!" your boyfriend rambles. you grab his wrists with both hands and smile with puffed out cheeks.

"welax, an' lemme go ! m'okay !" your muffled voice squeals out, your laughter makes your boyfriend shake his head with a huff, releasing you softly although he doesn't let you go fully yet, leaning down a bit more to get to look at you better, both of his knees dig into your matress where you're laying between him.

"honestly, he wasn't a big deal. we just had some food and chatted a bit. he was nice, real sweetheart." you explained, your boyfriend's face scrunched up more and more as you do. you snort and reach up to pinch he's cheeks "don't make that face, you'll get wrinkles, handsome."

katsuki shoo's your hands off, scoffing but feeling himself blush at your petname. he takes his turn to grip your wrists.

"shut up, don't talk about that weirdo like that. bastard was a damn shape shifter an' your treating him like the love of your life 'r something..." he groused, you giggle.

"well..." you tease. katsuki immediately cuts you off with a sharp "don't." his eyes squinted and sharp but he rubs so softly at your wrists and blushes even harder. when he backs off of you, he flops back on your bed with a harsh sigh, he's still holding onto one of your wrists.

you play with a short strand of his hair in your reach, twirling it around your finger with a silly smile "it was kinda cool, though. it was so freaky how alike you guys were." katsuki's nose pulls up at your ceiling while you speak "he was just as much of a brat as you were, it was cute."

your boyfriend looks at you incredulously, squeezing your wrist in reprimand "you're such a weirdo. don't go sympathizing with a clone."

"actually, i think he might be from an alternate dimension."

"durr, actually, durr—" katsuki mocks you with a nasally voice "doesn't matter and no one cares—clone's a clone. and i'm better."

"oh, yeah. totally." you joked, chuckling when he looks at you skeptically. then, he flips over to lay on top of you with his full weight "oof ! fuh—katsuki !" you wheeze out. your boyfriend only makes himself more comfortable, letting out an exaggerated sigh into your neck like he hadn't heard you.

"well, anyway...i'm glad things have gone back to normal. as much as i do love you, i think one katsuki is more than enough for everyone." you manage, reflexively carding your finger through his hair, to which a happy noise rumbles out from his chest, almost like the dragon boy you'd talked to just a few hours ago.

you think having two katsuki would be too much for your heart to handle, as irritating as he is.

"got that right." your boyfriend said groggily, letting out a small yawn into your warming skin. " i'm the only katsuki you need anyway."

you don't know if he misunderstood you on purpose, but you feel him smirk against your shoulder when you burst out into laughter, and you think that's just fine.

"mhm, dragon or not, you can't out do the doer, hm ?" you tease.

"damn right." your boyfriend shoots back and you both share a laugh.

this day had been rather crazy, but you couldn't find it in yourself to complain about it. you're happy to find out even another version of katsuki was as annoyingly endearing as ever, and that you loved him just as much.

and most importantly, that everything was back to normal now.

and especially your wall.

taglist ! ( if your name is in bold i couldnt tag u :(( ) :

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin

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grimmweepers · 3 days ago

Text

— ★ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after waiting for so long, alhaitham finally loses his virginity to you on his birthday

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: VIRGIN!alhaitham x FEM!reader, established relationship, there is some fluff sprinkled onto all this smut i promise, p0rn with plot, virginity loss (m), slightly more experienced reader, pet names ‘baby’ ‘love’, reader wears a skirt & dress, alcohol mention, handjob, masturbation (f), deepthroat, rough fucking, no protection, creampie, cowgirl, might be a little ooc. 5.7k wc (idk what happened) MDNI. 18+ only. | masterlist

𝐚/𝐧: a birthday piece! happy birthday alhaitham! 🎁

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your boyfriend was a virgin.

And for most people, virginity was often a touchy subject. Still, when you started dating Alhaitham, you weren’t surprised by his indifference towards the topic. He never danced around it or became flustered when the subject of sex came up. During your first conversation about it, he didn’t fidget, didn’t sugarcoat, he simply took a sip of his coffee and stated, “I’ve never had sex before.” Then after finishing his cup, he added, “Not for lack of opportunity. I just never prioritised it.”

There was no shame or awkwardness, just a fact laid bare between you. And, really, why would there be?

Sex wasn’t something he’d avoided out of fear or insecurity. To him, it was nothing but a passing thought.

At the time, you grazed over his humble boast because, of course, Alhaitham had opportunities. He was, by all objective measures, incredibly handsome and you told him this very often as his girlfriend.

The scribe might’ve been notorious for being difficult to converse with but people were still drawn to his appearance, whether he wanted them to be or not.

That conversation weighed more to you now. Not because of what he said but because of what it implied. Despite the passing interest others had in him and the potential experiences he could have had, he had waited. Not intentionally nor with some frivolous romantic ideal in mind, but simply because no one before you had ever made him want to.

As your relationship progressed, you discovered that contrary to popular belief, Alhaitham was still human (really, it’s a shock to some) and like any other human, he had needs that were managed with usual discretion (his hands). So while he had no qualms admitting he was a virgin, he also never pretended to be entirely unaffected by the curse of morning wood or the challenge of dating someone who was totally his type and much more vivacious than he.

But when you turned him on (which wasn’t difficult), no matter how heated things got, they never went past a certain point. It wasn’t hesitation on his part, nor was it uncertainty on yours.

It might’ve been because he’d never done it before, or maybe because it felt too significant to rush into. Either way, whenever things teetered on the edge of no return, one of you would always pull back. Every time it happened, it left you a little more restless than before.

It had started slow, as most things did.

Your first kiss with Alhaitham had been more curious than anything else. He always paid attention to detail so he was careful in how he studied you. The more he kissed you, the more he adjusted to the newness of it. You could even taste the hesitance on him but that had been months ago. Now, he’d memorise the way the shape of your lips fit against his, and kissing him felt as natural as breathing.

In the beginning, your make-out sessions had been tame. Nothing more than lazy, unhurried exchanges between reading breaks or in the fleeting moments before you parted from him. Uncaring for any responsibility he had prior, he would hold you close in his burly arms and take you in.

However, in time, those kisses evolved into something you had to be broken apart from.

His hands had also grown bolder. They would slide up your sides, paw at the curve of your spine, and settle on your hips to pull you closer. He noted the way you reacted to him—the way you tossed your head back when his fingers mapped your sensitive skin, the way your grip made home in his hair when his tongue delved deeper.

And you learned things about him, too.

You learned that even though the Alhaitham you first met had an air of mystery to him, there was something far more desperate laying dormant beneath that imaginary veil… lest his control slip. If you sucked on his lower lip, a groan would softly erupt from his mouth. If you allowed him to bury his face into the crook of your neck, the love bites he’d give you would feel much more erotic.

Then his touches became scandalous over time. Alhaitham seemed to explore you more.

He started to kiss—no, lick along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse just to hear your breath stuttering. His hands, no longer satisfied with resting at your waist, began to push under your shirt time and time again, ghosting over your ribs, tracing the dip of your back, just to gauge a reaction to his touch.

Your body continued to hum with need long after you had settled on opposite sides of the sofa, swollen lips and skin warm.

Each encounter left you both embarrassingly sticky by the end of it so you never bothered to admit you’d touched yourself to the thought of him long after he’d gone home. And neither did he.

An invisible string was about to snap, and the most recent time was the hardest to walk away from.

On that particular day, while you were nestled on his lap, Alhaitham had been kissing you with extra urgency—as if the taste of you wasn’t enough and every movement of your lips was drawing him into a slow-burning fire.

Each kiss was another spark, every touch a flicker of heat that spread and throbbed in the most wicked parts of you.

His hands traveled all over you, fingers that normally stayed at your ribs and waist started drifting lower so you sluggishly rolled your hips to match his rhythm, losing it at how hard he was growing beneath you.

Maybe it was because you’d worn a skirt that day but you felt closer to him than ever. Having your legs sprawled across his lap and feeling what you assumed was the head of his cock prod your sweet spot made your body scream even more for him. So it didn’t help your case at all when he suddenly stilled his fingers under your skirt and gingerly kneaded the back of your clothed pussy. The touch was petal soft but enough to make you whine without permission.

“Holy shit,” your words came out in plumes.

You half-expected it to escalate then but instead, he pulled away. A familiar pang settled in your chest. He didn’t do it out of regret—you knew that much, but all that racing intention now became idly slow.

“I’m sorry,” he said a little too quickly, it almost sounded awkward but you were too busy trying to figure out what he was apologising for. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong.

“For what exactly?” You asked.

Alhaitham took a moment to think.

“For not having more restraint,” his glossy eyes searched you, uncertain of what he wanted. “That felt impulsive.”

It was unintentional but you’d never seen him look so innocent. Or vulnerable.

Tilting your head, you said with a chuckle, “If I’m ever caught complaining about my boyfriend not being able to keep his hands off me, alert the authorities because that’s not me.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

None of this was your fault either, of course. Stopping was as much of a crime to him as it was to you, but he quietly returned your laughter, and timidly squeezed your hips as if to ground himself. “I just don’t want this to be something that happened because we couldn’t control ourselves.”

In other words, he wanted something planned. Maybe he had envisioned it unfolding differently.

Which was reasonable, you thought. It was his first time, not yours. And it wasn’t discouraging at all—that solid bulge pressing between your legs revealed enough about the effect you had on him. No part of him didn’t want to flip you over and fuck you senseless on that sofa but perhaps an impulsive make-out shouldn’t steer the wheel for something he held off for so long.

So despite how badly you wanted him, you stopped. You waited. You told yourself the anticipation was half the fun. “You’re right. You’re right. Must you always be right?”

“Just a gift bestowed from the Archon.” Sarcasm, even when all the blood that should’ve been in his head had rushed to his cock. He watched you sigh, “It seems you don’t agree?”

“Well if say I don’t, you could always ravish me until I do.” You smiled from ear to ear, satisfied when a pale shade of pink immediately dusted his cheeks.

“Stop that.”

Alhiatham was thankful when you rolled off his lap and collapsed beside him with a buoyant giggle.

Even then, he already missed the weight of you on his groin and the phantom tingle from when he allowed himself to touch you over your underwear was still fresh on his fingers. He didn’t dare look at you right away, afraid that one glance at your pretty face, kiss-swollen lips, and the tremble in your thighs would set his skin alight all over again.

— — —

Remnants of Alhaitham’s birthday were scattered around your home. Half-finished slices of cake on abandoned plates. Few too many empty glasses littering the coffee table. The lingering scent of candles recently blown out.

Looking at the mess, you felt a wave of gratitude that the last batch of your friends had already come and gone.

Honestly, it was a good thing he chose to celebrate at your place. If he’d done it at his, there would’ve been an inevitable crowd, and he and Kaveh would’ve probably found themselves locked in a debate over something trivial like the spelling of a single word. The only thing to break it up would be the arrival of dawn.

Here, it was just the two of you. While you’d both enjoyed the company earlier, ending the night like this felt right.

As the street lamps outside flickered on to welcome the evening, Alhaitham lounged beside you. This was the most relaxed he’d looked all day, with one arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa, and the other resting on his thigh with a new tome balanced loosely between his fingers. The dim light softened the sharp lines of his face, making him appear boyish as his sea-green eyes read the pages.

But he wasn’t really reading.

It was obvious by how his eyes were fixed on the same spot. His pupils were slightly dilated and maybe he had the wine to blame. Or something else altogether.

You finally broke the silence, leaning on the armrest to reach for your own glass. “It’s still your birthday, you know?”

Alhaitham returned his attention to you, closing the tome you bought for him without marking his place. “Is there a statute of limitations on celebrating?”

Huffing a laugh, “Not exactly,” you said, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip. “But I’ve been thinking about your birthday gift.”

“Hm?” He replied, slightly confused. He’d thought you’d already given him everything earlier in the day.

“Just wondering if there’s anything else you might want,” you set your glass down and watched the dark liquid ripple. This was the perfect opportunity to bring up what had been on both of your minds.

“Oh?” He blinked at you. “Well, this book you sought was quite a rare find, I’m aware there are only two other copies. For that alone, I needn’t ask for more.”

“And if I told you that was only the appetiser?”

Alhaitham adamantly shook his head, “I’m not following.”

But you both knew that was false. The entire conversation was laced with implications and this was a Haravatat genius you were speaking to. Nothing needed to be spelled out for him because you saw his throat bob with a subtle swallow. That alone told you he was already waging war with his thoughts.

Tonight felt different.

Aside from it being his literal birthday, ever since the morning you’d caught him eyeing your body on numerous counts.

One instance was when you conveniently sat across from him while your friends mingled, positioned so perfectly that he could see the triangle of underwear between your legs. It left little to the imagination and when images flashed of him running his sticky tongue over your panties—he bit the inside of his cheeks in shame.

Another time was not too long ago when you adjusted the strap of your dress—he was sitting where he was now and you had noticed his fixation on the exposed skin of your shoulder. When the flimsy strap irritatingly fell again, you pretended not to see him shifting his shorts by the crotch.

Something other than enticement was festering behind his gaze. It wasn’t out-right staring but you had an inkling you were being carefully watched.

Maybe assessed was the better word.

There was only so much pretend-reading he could do before it became obvious that your boyfriend was undressing you in his mind and using his tome as a silly cover. All of that told you he was ready.

He just needed a little nudge. A precious courtesy.

“Haitham, you’ve been thinking about it. Haven’t you?”

Alhaitham’s lips parted like he was about to deny it. But he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure he could. Between a sigh and a too-long pause, you were surprised when he admitted, “Of course I have. I’m not immune to… well, you.”

An intentional smile formed at the drop of that last word and your cheeks immediately grew hot. “You look beautiful,” he continued, but then his tone dipped into something far more audacious. “I might be convinced you were trying to steal my thunder today.”

The sincerity behind his delivery of it made your heart pound like a drumline beneath your ribs.

When you dared slip your hand to his knee, his muscles reflexively twitched. He didn’t try to stop you as you slowly traced the outline of his leg.

“That honesty is going to get you in a lot of trouble, birthday boy.”

“Trouble?” He said with a knowing smirk. “I think I’m already in enough trouble for tonight, don’t you?” You let him take your wrist to his mouth and he suckled above your pulse, soft and slow.

Goosebumps danced across your arm before you stood up.

Alhaitham tracked every step you made and his burning hands instinctively moved to your waist when you stopped between his legs. As you leaned down, he almost shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. “What do you mean? I’m terribly innocent.”

The heat of his touch seared through your dress and you didn’t falter when he started bunching up the fabric.

Alhaitham, he was different.

Unlike the temporary touches of almost-lovers, every place his hands explored left a trail of fire in their wake. He always held you like the space between you was something he could not tolerate. Everything had to be met. Tongue. Hands. Body. Mind.

Alhaitham loved you. Deeply. Utterly. In ways that contradicted his nature. It was neither measured nor composed, only barbaric and all-encompassing.

And credit must be due to you for being the most patient person in the world.

“So,” you said quietly, brushing away those unruly greys that tickled his forehead. “Do you feel like this time is rushed?”

His long fingers tightened around you, answering your question before he spoke. Whatever hesitation he felt had apparently already passed. “No, this is perfect.”

As he looked up at you through those curtain of long lashes, an indulgent question had accidentally slipped out of your mouth: “How often do you picture yourself having your way with me?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Clearly defeated by your feathery voice, he exhaled through his nose, almost jaded, “Constantly."

For some reason, you were still caught by surprise. Even if it lasted for a sliver of a second, when his admiration for you felt too good to be true, sometimes you thought it all a farce. But you were wrong.

"In fact, I’m thinking about it right now," he continued.

Without needing any more reassurance than that, you closed the distance. “Do you mind?” You asked over his lips.

“Not at all,” he said like he was granting you a wish.

One tender kiss bled into another, then another, until his tongue started rolling over yours, swallowing your gasps in between. Then it turned into something wet and visceral. Your body wilted each time they collided but when his teeth sunk into your bottom lip, a riot of sensations gathered between your thighs.

Fuck, you swore internally.

Alhaitham may be a virgin but he sure didn’t kiss like one.

Still standing, you snaked your arms around his neck and combed at the ends of his hair. No matter how often you’d done this, the sound of his grunts always drowned out the rest of the world.

Your lips broke apart for only a moment when you were forced to find air. There were too many annoying layers between the two of you so the cycle of kissing and never crossing that line was forever broken when you pulled on his shirt, “Take this off.”

Letting you go, even for a second, was unbearable so when he lifted his arms to rid himself of the barrier, he greedily chased another kiss. The fabric dragged over his torso, revealing inch by inch of warm, silky skin stretched taut over muscle, and as soon as the shirt was gone, you traced the broad plane of his chest.

From this view, you wonder if he was thinking about how many times he had imagined this moment. How many nights he had stared at the ceiling, picturing your hands on him just like this?

“Nervous?” You asked, following your palm over the firm ridges of his abdomen as you connected lips again, pecking them softly this time like a butterfly kissing the edge of a blooming flower.

“Impossible,” Alhaitham relaxed his shoulders and pulled blindly at your waist. You looked so pretty—if anything, he was excited to fuck you. “I’m in good hands.”

Your lips trailed downward, over his jaw, his throat, ghosting his uncharted collarbones before moving even lower. Cushions collapsed to the floor as he began to fray beneath you, his body keening toward your open-mouth kisses no matter how much he tried to hold himself together.

“Baby—” he rasped. Your knees wobbled at his sweet call. The quietest groan escaped his mouth and you felt it reverberate against your lips where they hovered just above his navel. His scent was richer here—clean but muskier, and engulfing your senses to the point of dizziness.

Sinking to your knees, your tongue followed the dark path of hair that disappeared beneath his shorts while your hands nimbly pushed at his growing tent, “—Fuck,” he sighed, screwing his eyes shut. It pulsed involuntarily against the restraint and already, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Your heart was racing, the size of it felt even bigger in your hand.

You toyed at the waistband, “Haitham, tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

He nodded, slumping back into the sofa. Sure, but he doesn’t think he will. His lack of words made you wonder if he’d actually heard you.

You palmed his bulge one last time before pulling everything down and immediately, his cock sprung against his stomach, giving it a good slapping sound while you ogled at the sheer size. And weight.

It was so much prettier than you’d imagine—not too veiny, plump and pink at the tip, slightly curved, and already glistening with precum under the hues of evening light. A handful of beauty marks dotted the underside of his shaft which would only help you out in the future when you had to decide which parts of him you wanted to kiss first. It might’ve been the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

Rubbing your thumb over the tip, you peered up at him, and as expected, “Oh…” he rolled his eyes back, lulling himself in the immediate pleasure. At that moment, he knew fucking his fist in the dead of night would never feel the same again. Not when they can be hugged by your soft, velvety hands.

Alhaitham’s body jittered under you with each small stroke along his length. Another fat ball of precum dribbled over your knuckles and made it extra slippery—he was so hard, he could barely look at you through his drowsy eyes.

“Do you like how this feels, baby?”

His feelings wavered between bucking for more friction or letting you dictate his ruin. “I- ah- love it. Keep going… Please…” Either way, by the time this was over, Alhaitham was going to walk away a new man.

His cock was so heavy, so wide in your hand that you briefly imagined it training your hole open. You desperately clenched around nothing—suddenly it was your turn to feel needy and as a result, your strokes became even faster as you thought about him stuffing you with it instead.

Each languid pump chipped away at his resolve but it was you who was beginning to lose control. Your free hand couldn’t hold still for any longer so they snaked to the throbbing heat that had been building between your legs for too long. The first roll of circles over your clit sent a sharp jolt up your spine. “Mmmm,” you were already so wet, your slick drenched your fingers within seconds.

Alhaitham's thighs twitched at the sound of you. That was a moan. A real fucking moan. A multitude of things could turn him on but watching his girlfriend play with herself and moaning above his cock made him spasm in his spot. He was begging for more, even if he couldn’t form the words.

“Ahh, Haitham…” you mewled his name softly as you slid two fingers inside your sopping entrance. Without waiting any longer, you spat on the leaking tip as a courtesy warning before taking the entire length in your mouth all at once.

“God…” Alhaitham groaned, drawn out like the sensation alone could tear him apart. He could’ve jumped out of his seat if not for the vice grip he had on the sofa, his knuckles white from holding onto it like a lifeline. The inside of your mouth was so warm, your tongue so blissfully foreign and you felt him stiffen up even more when you sloppily sucked and popped off with a messy slurp.

“This definitely... isn't your first time,” His voice was rough with lust.

Every tantalising lick was written off as proof of your experience.

The praise, while indirect, made your cunt clamp around your moving fingers. You hummed, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock before pulling back with another lewd pop, “No,” you casually admitted, licking a stray tear of precum from your lips. “But it’s my first time taking something so big.”

“No need to flatter me,” he murmured softly, lifting your dripping chin with a single finger, “You’re already doing enough.”

But damn, he thought. If that were true, he’d be the one to stretch you further than anyone else.

After returning your lips around him, he unexpectedly brought his hand to the back of your head.

This time, he didn’t want to sit back. “Slowly…” he sucked in a breath. “I… want to try something.”

Alhaitham apparently grew some confidence of his own which made your fingers work even faster inside yourself. Your lips sank lower and lower. Throat tightening as his thick cock tunneled its way through—

“Mmph—!!” Your sudden yelp was muffled when his mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat. The vibration of it made him buckle his knees beside you.

Oh, he was weak for you. And he knew it.

“Ugh— Look at you…” he groaned through gritted teeth. Still, despite the newfound confidence, he was losing the battle fast. He had buckled so hard, he was worried he’d already cum but he was relieved when you gagged and withdrew, leaving only strings of saliva connecting to his fat length.

That was enough to tell him he couldn’t hold it off anymore.

Alhaitham could barely think straight. His cock was twitching, aching, still glossy from your mouth, and somehow standing taller than when all of this started.

“Come here,” he pleaded and now his heart pounded because it was finally happening.

His eyes were hazy when he hoisted you up, catching you in his lap to taste himself on your tongue. The kiss was feral and teeth-clashing and the curl of your name kept being whispered again and again between breaths.

His hands wasted no time, sliding down your body, comfortably hiking up your dress while he met his cock with your entrance. Even with your underwear in the way, you felt just how girthy he was and squeezed around the head as much as your flimsy panties allowed.

“Haitham~” you whimpered, continuing to grind on him.

Between his own rolling of his hips, he eagerly helped you tug your dress over your head. Then you hurriedly removed your underwear and returned to his lap.

For a brief moment, he just stared.

His jaw went slack. His chest rose and fell slowly.

It was a showcase of your bare body, your soft tummy, your sweat-stricken tits, and your exposed pussy.

Suddenly, you felt shy, but he reached out with surprising gentleness, smoothing his palm over your waist, then up to your chest.

“I know I keep repeating myself but seriously,” he hushed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you shiver. “You’re beautiful.”

He looked at you like you were something divine and overcome, your lips crashed against his.

A guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with just as much hunger.

“I love you,” you whispered to him. Another twist of your tongue. I love you. Another hand tangled in his hair. I love you. Another peek at your loving boyfriend, eyes shut and kissing you so tenderly like it’s the only thing he knew. I love you.

His hand slipped between your legs, fingers parting the opening where you were dripping for him. If you hadn’t known him at all, you would’ve never guessed this was his first time. Perhaps preparing for this really paid off in the end.

Your legs trembled around his hand, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. The need clawed at you.

His hand gripped your putty thighs, forcing them open as he stared at the pretty mess.

Alhaitham flicked his gaze back to yours, “I love you, too,” his voice was hoarse. “And I need to be inside you.” It was then you understood why puppy eyes worked on people. No argument could ever shield him away when he pleaded for you like that. It would be like kicking a puppy in the most literal sense.

You gave him a nod of approval. It’s okay.

He exhaled as he positioned himself. The downright weight of it jerking against your clit made you whimper. You couldn’t help but rock into it, circling his shaft with your juices while he was on the cusp of shattering.

Finally, he lined the swollen head at your entrance and a sharp gasp left you as he slowly pushed in, stretching you apart like all those times you fantasised in the privacy of your bedroom but this was much, much better.

Inch by inch, your walls latched onto him and—

“Shit—” Alhaitham cursed under his breath.

Nothing has ever felt so warm or soft. Or all-consuming. His entire vision was a blur. There was no doubt he was already painting a clear, sticky mess on your walls.

Your nails sank into his meaty arms, his name tumbled from your lips as he gradually slotted himself completely inside you. His groan was so deep and wrecked, that it made you tremble around him even more.

Your legs tightened at his side, urging him deeper. “T-Thoughts?” You asked, barely. It remained a mystery how you stayed teasing even as pleasure threatened to steal your words away.

“You’re so… tight,” he managed to breathe, thrusting up experimentally. His head dropped to your shoulder as he relished in the wet heat of you wrapped around him. “Better than my hands."

"Better than I ever imagined, actually." A strained chuckle left him, “And I imagined a lot.”

Another slow thrust. His fingers embedded themselves around your waist, possessive, obsessive, and he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in.

You smiled even though you knew he couldn’t see, “You don’t have to hold back.”

Your cute encouragement made him snap.

He lifted you slightly before slamming you down on his hips, plunging as far as he could. Right as he did, you arched your back and struggled to find your bearings. The sound of your jutted cries echoed freely in the living room, only for it to be swallowed by his muttering against your skin—

“You’re perfect.”

A deep thrust, much harder this time.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.”

His teeth scraped against your neck.

And then he really started fucking you.

Every bounce punctured all the right spots and you could only whine while rivers of sweat glued your bodies together. You tried to keep up with him but he was so fervent with his hips, your mind went cloudy.

More often than not, you tend to forget how strong your boyfriend was but you’ll never need a reminder after this. Not with how easily his large hands guided you up and down his throbbing cock. You were helpless against the feverish way he moved you.

Plap. Plap. Plap. Each wet slap of your fleshy ass against his thighs sent a violent shudder through him, decorating his skin with flushed, red marks where you landed.

Who knew Alhaitham could be so obscene and filthy?

“I can see why—people—enjoy this,” was all he could muster you as deliciously gripped him. Every word punched out of him from the force of your tight cunt.

However, as good as it felt, most of his enjoyment came from looking at you.

“Mhm…!” you babbled, brain foggy and hands abandoning his shoulders to roll your sensitive nipples between your fingers, twisting and tugging and arching your back so your tits were right in his face. “But are you—?” You tried to ask between ragged moans but he cut you off with a snap of his hips.

He’d never seen you in such a messy state, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He was nearly offended at the implication that he wasn’t. How could he not be? He was buried to the hilt and drinking in every filthy little sound that spilled from your lips.

He wanted to engrave the image of this memory into his mind forever.

The creak of the sofa legs as they scraped back and forth on your floor; the squelch of your soaking pussy; your arousal smearing the base of his shaft, running down his legs with every feverish roll.

Even like this, even while he was losing every last shred of innocence, his mind was already latching onto something else—

“I’m already looking forward to doing this again…”

Alhaitham, who fucking loved you, was also going to love fucking you.

Oh, and the toe-curling sensation of his balls smacking the back of your pussy intensified.

For each erratic push, your battered clit rubbed even more against his pubic bone. Your eyes were starting to drop and your voice only came in erotic moans. “Baby, please…” You’ve adjusted to the stretch by now but you’ll never get used to how you can feel every curve or ridge mind-meltingly dragging inside you. “Don’t stop—”

He wishes he could just record the way you coo at him like that, because your honeyed tone damn near made him bust on the spot.

“F-Fuckk-Ngh… Love, I’m close,” he groaned, forehead falling against yours as his hips stuttered. His hungry, feral eyes—wild, desperate, blown back with lust, searched yours, now certain of what he wanted.

“Inside,” you panted, cradling the back of his head with your arms. “I bought a contraceptive tonic… You can cum inside.”

Alhaitham froze, for just a second.

But with your permission, he lost whatever fragile thread of control he had left. Using the last of his strength, he clumsily wrapped himself around your waist and attacked your g-spot over and over.

“Quickly,” you urged him, “Because I’m gonna—!” A feeling in your stomach coiled before you could finish your sentence. With his hips rolling at an angle, everything you were holding together finally broke apart. Your ears abruptly rang and your vision went entirely white, as if months’ worth of pent-up energy was gushing out of you.

You pushed through the untangling in your gut, feeling everything all at once as your orgasm obliterated your senses. The downpour left you mewling, writhing, and spasming around him like a tightening knot. You've cummed to the thought of him but you always felt like something was missing.

Nothing but desperate moaning and the crying of his name met his ears while you blissfully rode him out.

A harsh thrust later did it for him, too.

His merciless rhythm shattered as he rutted inside one last time, a guttural groan ripping from his throat like all the air was being punched from his lungs. “Hah—I’m cumming!” His cock pulsed violently as he came, hot ropes of ivory spilling deep inside you, with him losing focus after each shudder of his hips.

So much of it was already oozing out of you despite how tight you still were and you saw the ruin it brought on him. He was beautiful with his brows pinched tight and strands of damp silver sticking to his forehead. Every flex of his toned arms and chest showcased the primal strength beneath his elegance.

Alhaitham whimpered—it was barely audible as slumped against your chest. He clung to you, panting, hot breath fanning your shoulder as he pumped out the last tremors of his release. His balls tightened for the final time as they emptied inside you.

Neither of you moved. Just sticky heat, layers upon layers of sweat, and the aftershocks pulsing through your trembling bodies.

Then, slowly, his hands fell to his sides.

“…That was…” he started, feeling like his mind was still trying to piece itself together. His body practically surrendered against the sofa.

You swiped a thumb over his jaw, smiling. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

When Alhaitham lifted his head, blinking at you, completely softened by the afterglow, it hit you.

Your boyfriend wasn’t a virgin anymore.

divider: @/adornedwithlight

#☾ grimmweepers #genshin impact smut #alhaitham smut #al-haitham smut #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #genshin x reader #gi smut #alhaitham x you #al-haitham x you #genshin x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x female reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #genshin oneshots

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ybklix · 1 day ago

Text

unspoken storm

⭒˚‧♱ pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader ⁺‧₊˚ ♡ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: On an unfortunate night of heavy rain you find yourself stuck without being able to move forward, until a kind man sees you and offers to give you lodging until the rain stops but he turns out to be your teacher; once being alone leads you to get to know each other better in such a specific way, exploring dangerous territories and forbidden fantasies. ₊ ⊹⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: MDNI, smut, oral sex, fingering, pussy slaps, clit play, boob play, masturbation, pet names, hair pulling, chocking, light spanking, multiple orgasms, slight corruption kink, unprotected sex, creampie, adultery, teacher x student. word count: 19.6k

kinktober '24 ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 07: professor

wen’s note: hello😃 the kinktober is still on going (sadly) #yolo #girlythings #slay

“Okay, take care of yourself too, honey. I love you. Don’t go out until the rain is over,” he said, looking out the window.

It was about to get dark, but the dense dark clouds forming in the sky made Kim Seungmin shudder, he had a complicated relationship with rain, he loved it, but certain aspects of it simply sent shivers down his spine, like the predicted rain now, which is bound to be intense and leave a huge series of weather consequences and disasters in its wake, he was scared, it was an unexpected intense storm that took—or was about to take everyone by surprise, that the people were advised at the last minute not to leave their homes. Seungmin sighed, lost in the dark grey clouds looking out from his little son’s room on the second floor.

An awkward silence formed, so thick that Seungmin could feel it even with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Things had been getting heavy between him and his wife for a while now, and he hated being alone in such situations. He couldn’t even tell her I love you without her forming a tense atmosphere, poor Seungmin almost fell weak at the silence.

“Seungmin, it makes me nervous not to be there, talk to your sister to know that Geonwoo is okay” mentioned from the other end of the line his wife, worried and sighing, deflecting the topic.

Seungmin drew a half smile on his face, almost picturing his wife’s worried expression perfectly. Her hand on her forehead, running her hand through her hair, and her frown, he imagined her inside the hotel room wearing her Chanel attire, her short, dark, shiny hair perfectly straightened.

“I’m sorry I left Geonwoo with Sangmi and his cousins, sorry to worry you, I didn’t know a storm was coming.”

Gaeun sighed again. This time, Seungmin heard her heels hit the floor and the sound of a sheet being wrung out. She sat on the bed and removed her shoes, he thought.

“It’s okay, Seungmin, I can’t take the flight because of the same thing with the storm; it will only last all night and part of the morning, I’ll still be in touch to hear from Geonwoo.”

Now Seungmin sighed, turning his body to the side of the window, “Okay, well, Gaeun…”

“I have to go,” she interrupted him. “Text me when you’ve talked to Sangmi to hear from Geonwoo. Bye.”

And she hung up the call she initiated, which initially excited the poor jilted man. Seungmin turned his body to look out the window again and this time he observed his neighborhood, the other houses in the suburbs painted faintly in gray colors. Big houses with big gates giving them privacy. His life was gray now. He thought back to the monotonous conversation just a few minutes ago despite his very clear and risky attempts:

“Hello, Gaeun! How are you, how was the conference?”

Seungmin was happy, missing his son’s warm company so without thinking he went upstairs to his room, dark, without turning on the lights, illuminated by the uncovered curtain on his window.

She didn’t even bother to answer him that, causing him to be displeased.

“Seungmin, you took Geonwoo to his taekwondo practice? Gosh, I forgot to tell you, I got a little late with the lecture.”

“Sure, I also know exactly what our son does” he grumbled, in a passive-aggressive tone.

“Mmm… that’s nice. I hear there’ll be a storm and it may be light out, so you’ll be fine with Geonwoo. It will only rain heavily here for a few hours but my flight was cancelled.”

Seungmin cleared his throat, knowing exactly that his wife would not agree with what he was about to say.

“About that… I know—Now… I didn’t know and Geonwoo took a bath, got some rest, we ate and I took him to play with his cousins at my sister’s house…”

“So? Isn’t Geonwoo with you at home now?” her tone went up, ready to start a fight, but she didn’t have enough energy. “Good. Take care of yourself, I think the storm is about to start, it’s dangerous for both of you to drive and go to pick him up.”

Seungmin sighed despondently again, unhappy with the lack of communication was causing in his marriage. He loved Gaeun but every time he approached her she only seemed to block him, he felt he was closer to his divorce than he was to patch things up with the woman he loved. He looked down, staring at the shiny ring around his finger, thinking of the symbolism and meaning of eternity it was supposed to signify. He let out a disbelieving chuckle, playing with his ring and resigning himself to the fact that once again, as soon as Gaeun return from her trip, she wouldn’t be the same as she always was, the one he knew and loved.

He looked at his little Geonwoo’s room, empty and perfectly tidy as he was a pretty neat and tidy child like his father, but lately, Seungmin felt like everything was a mess and out of place. He couldn’t fix things, and he couldn’t tidy it up which drove him crazy, sometimes he questioned if he really loved her… or if was it to maintain the perfect image of a happily married family.

He didn’t let any more time pass and phoned his sister.

“Sangmi—”

“We’re fine, we’re all here, Hyunjin is already in the house. You’ll let Geonwoo sleep, here, right?” his sister quickly replied.

A sharp flash of lightning illuminated the gray suburban scene of his neighbors, making the answer more than obvious, Seungmin began to get nervous. The rain started.

He grimaced and began to walk down the stairs.

“Mmm, please. I didn’t prepare for the storm.”

“No one did, actually. You want to FaceTime with Geonwoo?.”

“Shit, it’s not the end of the world, but sure.”

“Seungmin, a storm can seem scary to a five-year-old,” his older sister scolded him.

“And I’m not with my little guy, dammit. Pass him to me.”

Seungmin plopped down on the couch and talked to his little boy for a while, gently explaining that he would sleep over there and early in the morning he would go get him. Seungmin had hung out with his sister for a while and had a last minute conference to attend, so he left his son there in the meantime, however on the way, about to arrive at his destination he got a message, that the meeting was canceled due to unexpected news of an approaching storm, so they wished him a safe stay at home. He disgruntled, parked his car and inquired a bit about the unexpected news, being taken by surprise by the sudden weather forecast, the day was cold and cloudy but he did not know that something that intense was coming. His sister texted him right away, sending him home since it would take time to get back to her house anyway and he would probably be caught off guard by the rain while driving. Seungmin, with some guilt at not being able to be with his son and with a disapproving grimace heeded his sister, as she was right, he was closer to his home than hers. As soon as he got home he received Gaeun’s call and his internal conflict began again and again… wondering what had suddenly gone wrong.

A rumbling thunder startled him a little and the heavy drops hitting the outside violently made their presence felt in his silent and lonely house. The rain sounded fast and aggressive, Seungmin got up from the sofa, unwilling to turn on the TV and resigned that the light could go at any moment and went to check his windows, uncertain whether to leave the curtains uncovered or to cover his windows and, as he was rambling at the front window of his house, then suddenly, almost in a automatic impulse, he sighed, heading upstairs, making sure the windows were closed... until it was time to check his wife’s office. Seungmin hesitated, his hand on the cold doorknob, and entered. A place full of warm elements, specifically colder than the rest of the house, more so than outside. It was as if there was no point in that brightly lit place filled with family photos when they had once been a happy married couple.

Seungmin had no idea what was going on. Had she gotten bored of him? Why did he feel like a stranger every time he talked to the love of his life?

He entered the place slowly, wary of every step he took. Somehow the place looked different from other times, different from the sweet memories he has of carrying his son to her office, asking Gaeun for help every time the little one cried and Seungmin didn’t know what to do, they were both first time parents, parenthood was so new to both of them and it still was. But one was enough, or so his wife demanded, she wouldn’t even entertain the idea of getting pregnant again.

Seungmin sketched a half smile as his long slender fingers finely touched the desk, oh, the sweet memories of passionate and wild lovemaking on that piece of furniture were just that, passing memories etched in his mind that came to attack him at his most vulnerable moment. Just like the unexpected rain, it was like his time alone in that weather was pushing him to the limit. He clenched his fist; should he leave his wife? Let her be happy? Gaeun stopped smiling. He missed her smile, he missed her. But it actually made her happy not to be with him anymore?

The windows were closed. Just like his wife’s heart. Seungmin stood behind one of them, giving the view of another angle of the street of his neighborhood. He wasn’t watching anything specific, nor did he expect to, until he saw a figure lost in the heavy rain, standing on the sidewalk, between in front of his home and his neighbor’s house. Seungmin watched the figure, craning his neck and leaning toward the window to distinguish the figure better, frightened, curious, and in disbelief. It was a poor girl, in the rain. Almost as if she were a ghost.

It was you, stuck and trapped in there, soaking wet and feeling useless. You had been in the town library until late because only that library had those old volumes of books you liked to dig into, to your luck, you had forgotten your laptop in your dorm, but to your bad luck, you found out about the rain later and naively believed you could make it to the university on time by following your same routine walking, speeding up your usual steps, without the storm catching you, but it did, and it did it in such an unfavorable spot, you were in a neighborhood, stranded. Your heart was pounding, and you felt at the end of the world, nervous, unable to take your cell phone out of your bag because it would obviously get wet, your only option was to take refuge under the roof of the front porch of a house, or seek shelter with one of the families inside them, but you were paralyzed, with fear, it was a wealthy area, all houses surrounded by big gates, no one could see you, and all for being too stubborn and follow your same route as always…

You were about to move, to look for that shelter, when a manly shout in the distance, blurring between the sound of the rain hitting the ground, practically saved you from everything. And a mischievous, innocent but amused smile formed on your face as you knew exactly who it was.

“Hey, you! Over here! Come here!”

You turned to see the familiar voice that seemed to be shouting at you and carefully ran, clutching your bag tightly to do your best to make your cell phone survive the rain, until you approached the slim, masculine figure.

Seungmin wandered for a few seconds, whether to help you or not, whether to leave you in the rain, he even wondered if you were real or if it was something he was imagining, causing him a tingle of a shiver down his back, he still questioned what kind of person and gentleman he would be if he simply decided to ignore you, worst case scenario was that you could be something paranormal or a serial killer, either option would at least start a flame in his boring life, he thought. However, as your sodden, grief-stricken complexion drew closer to the entrance of the gate, Seungmin could gradually recognize you, as could you. Finally, you were close, gently stealing each other’s breath; you raised your gaze, seeing his soft expression that you had so memorized, and in a faint whisper you could only ask, pretending to be surprised:

“Professor Kim?”

He didn’t stop to acknowledge you on the front of his house and just stretched out his arms, feeling the cold, damp October weather shiver his skin. He was effortlessly gorgeous holding an umbrella, inviting you to get underneath it too.

“Come in, please come in,” he said, leading you to the entrance of his house, closing his gate.

The limit of the umbrella’s protective space forced you to get closer, catching a glimpse of his masculine countenance, his smooth jaw, his sharp profile; the closest you’ve ever been to him. You almost breathed in his perfume, but the satisfying smell of earth and wet pavement was stronger.

You barely saw the entrance, a sweet nice garden tinted in grey and plants violently hit by the rain drops.

Your body slowly resented the change in weather, from harsh cold to the warmth of his house that slowly embraced your body, still, you shivered from the cold still having difficulty adjusting, all your skin, numb and bristling, your muscles stiff and standing unexpectedly in the foyer of your college music teacher—your favorite one, didn’t help matters. You fidgeted slightly as you let your eyes feast on his worried countenance and the sight of his cozy dwelling, enjoying the sweet scent of cinnamon and soft pine.

“God… you must be cold, you’re—”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry too, I’m soaking your floor….. Mr. Kim.”

He left the umbrella and put his hands on his hips, undaunted that you knew his name since he knew exactly who you were. His student. Y/n. What he didn’t know exactly… was what you were doing in that neighborhood, since it was away from the college area, going more towards the nearest city.

You examined him, noticing very small, shiny droplets in his dark hair and his slightly wet shoulders, making it visible on his shirt. He looked so good.

“Nothing’s wrong—” he murmured, staring at your wet body, lightly soaking his floor, your posture gently hunched over, your clothes tight to your body, your knees uncovered by your skirt, pulled together, “Wait, here.”

Seungmin hurried to the laundry area in his house, returning in short seconds with a towel, but he lost himself at the sight of your light beige sweater wet and pressed on your breast, revealing a little of your pale pink bra. You were still hunched in place, surprised by the suddenness of the situation, embarrassed to be standing in your teacher’s doorway dripping his floor. You looked at Seungmin, who handed you the towel, quickly and scared that you caught him looking at your body, with a soft expression of concern on his face, furrowing his straight eyebrows and friendly gaze. You noticed. He watched you, and he liked what he saw.

“Mmm… Miss, Y/ln, right? Y/n?” he mentioned as he handed you the towel abruptly, clearing his throat.

You nodded happily, immediately causing a warmth in your stomach knowing that he recognized you since you were just another student in his class, of the multiple he used to teach at different semesters. Just another woman from the multiple he saw at work everyday. He was also a sport commentator, more specifically for baseball in a national news channel, making him a micro-celebrity. How could you not know him, he was handsome and gain a lot of respect, but he was also a simple teacher, having so many facets in him. Does he loves music? Does he love baseball?

“Yes” you laughed softly, looking him in the eyes, “Thank you” you mumbled shyly.

And to think you don’t know shit about sports, but watched every time he was there.

You grabbed the towel, shyly drying the ends of your hair, arms, and legs, and then wrapped yourself in it….. You suddenly thought that the house was so quiet… and knew perfectly well that Professor Kim Seungmin had a wife and a young son. They are not at home? Why would his wife let him attend to a young girl in distress in the rain? You would be jealous if Kim Seungmin were your husband. He was all dream and charm.

Seungmin saw your act, the towel passing over your body, holding back a sigh as he thought… now what? He couldn’t send you out again, neither could anyone else pick you up right now. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, more than just giving you quick help. It was obvious, you had to stay, at least until the storm subsided. You watched Seungmin, his bright eyes with some uncertainty in them… he didn’t expect, that of all people, it had to be specifically one of his students that he had to give shelter to for the time being. In a way, he was relieved, at least you weren’t a complete stranger. He knew you, your work was impeccable and you were a smart and outstanding student, but you were still his student and he was still your teacher. The situation seemed strange to him… but he was doing it purely out of kindness. The rain was heavy. The decision was more than obvious, so he, quickly keeping order as in any of the situation, said, coming out of his trance:

“You need to take off your clothes” his sudden comment between the silence of his home and the noise of the rain outside gently and playfully raised the corner of your lips, retaining a smile, you watched him shyly but mischievously, he understood how the comment could have been interpreted that he even in a way got a little nervous. “You’re so wet…” he didn’t make it better, “and you might catch a cold, come on, come. Leave your shoes in the hall, grab some slippers, I’ll put your clothes in to dry and I can give you something to wear in the meantime.”

He held out his arm, gesturing with his it inviting you to follow him, but neither of you moved an inch. You watched each other, squinting your eyes softly, watching him closely. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt, loose fitting to his slim build, and soft beige pants, you wondered if this was how he always dressed, even at home. Professor Kim was handsome, smooth ivory skin, short black hair, and narrow brown almond-shaped eyes that always made him look so innocent and friendly, you found his usual very serious expression tender, he kept his youthful appearance, he was shy, quite a tender and cute husband, the kind of man you dream of having at home, he likes baseball, he knows his fatherly role and things around the house, but he also has his soft and artistic side, which is what he does for a living. You’d be lying… if you didn’t admit that you’ve had a crush on him for a long time, ever since the first course he taught you in college. But you kept it all that way, secret and innocent, you knew he was married and older than you, everyone knew he was married to the head of the business school, a former member of the most popular sorority at the university, where they met. You were curious to know… where she might be… or if you had been lucky enough to be alone, because to you that’s exactly what it looked like. Seungmin took a slow breath and blinked suddenly until he managed to snap out of his trance, wondering for a second what it was that consumed him in seconds, the sight of you, helpless, cold and wet, sharing glances.

“Oh… were you going somewhere? It’s obvious you can stay here until the rain calms down” he said suddenly, reproaching himself that in a situation like this, there wasn’t much to do.

You shook your head. “Thank you very much. Well, there’s not much I can do. I was stuck in the rain. I still have to check if my phone didn’t get wet. Thank you, Mr. Kim… just, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you or your wife, sorry.”

Seungmin smirked, almost snorting at the word wife. He raised his eyebrows for a second and ran his tongue along his cavity. He was annoyed. Annoyed that he couldn’t control something he held in his hands. Your comment was subtle, you just wanted to know one thing, besides the reason for getting such an expression as a response…

“Oh, no. We’re alone. I hope you don’t mind” he added, more respectful, taking a step back.

You shook your head again, the corners of your lips almost wanting to twitch again in a mischievous smile. You were about to have your alone time with him. It was as if the world was working wonderfully after the cardiac moment it had gotten you through under the storm.

“Not at all. Thank you very much. I’ll call someone to come get me as soon as the rain is over.”

You both knew that wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“I’ll give you a ride, don’t worry,” he replied as he tried to find a solution for you, “Go on, change in the guest room, I’ll go get you some clothes.”

“Agh, even my bag is wet, can I leave it here too?”

Seungmin nodded with a smile, you took out your cell phone, thankful that it didn’t get wet, and followed his pace behind him. You admired every detail of what you could of his house until he led you to the guest room.

You were cold, your wet clothes were heavy and clinging to your body, your hair was a mess.

“Wait here… let me get you some clothes” he told you.

As soon as he went into his closet… he asked himself what the fuck he was thinking, letting his student in. But he sighed, thinking that it would have been exactly the same situation but with an unknown woman, either way, it looked bad.

But he had to admit it. It was the most fun he’d had all week. Caught in the rain with a pretty girl. He snickered, thinking it was silly.

But it’s just kindness, kindness. He thought over and over again. He picked up a white sweater with thin blue horizontal stripes quickly, but stopped as he thought… what will you wear underneath. Seungmin rubbed his forehead nervously and the first thing that came to his mind was his wife’s exercise leggings. And then his mind won, betraying him and thinking of your body, soaking wet and his mind visualized if it was even possible… that even your underwear is wet too. He bit his lip, not wanting to give you a pair of his wife’s panties so as not to look like a pervert, so he just took the two garments and would feign ignorance and that’s all he could think to borrow you.

You were there, waiting for him, standing still in your place in front of the pretty white door that gave access to the guest room. You were still shivering from the cold, your skin bristled and your nipples were hard; still… you took the time to look around his house, you still couldn’t believe you were alone, it was a unique opportunity you hoped to enjoy, alone, together with your crush of years, Professor Kim, trapped under the same roof, deep down you hoped the rain would stay.

“There it is,” he said, appearing in the hallway.

You smiled shyly at him, brushing his hand subtly as he held you clothes and entered the room. Seungmin watched from head to toe your wet body backward enter the room, which he was going to offer you if the rain continued throughout the night, and as soon as you closed the door he turned, turning his back to it, puffing air into his cheeks, putting his hands on his hips and letting out the air he had been holding. He wondered if he should tell Gaeun, that he found his student lost in the rain and was going to spend the night at the house. But it sounded insane, he comforted himself by thinking that it wasn’t like Gaeun cared too much either, things were going so badly with her, but she was still his wife. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, about to tell her, but decided against it, chances were she would never even find out you were there, what was the point of telling her right now, besides he had no phone signal.

You on the other hand, looked at yourself in the mirror of the room and closed your eyes deeply in shame, thinking that you looked like a mess in the rain, wet, like a cat waiting to be rescued, it was obvious that Mr. Kim’s kindness was going to save you, because you were lucky that he noticed you. You went back to drying off and tidying up as much as you could. You took off your wet clothes and cursed because even your underwear was wet.

You put on the leggings, first looking at them closely and assuming exactly whose they were. At least they looked good on you. And then the soft sweater, this time the huge smile appeared on your face without shame, you knew it was Seungmin’s, something about it told you so besides the obvious manly cut of the garment. You grabbed your cell phone quickly, you couldn’t help but take as many pictures as you thought necessary at your teacher’s house wearing his sweater. But you saw something you didn’t like very much, no signal on your cell phone. You were hoping to at least distract yourself a little bit with it, acting like a typical, normal, disinterested young woman, using her phone, otherwise you would go crazy… since... you had to interact with Professor Kim.

You came out embarrassed, with your wet clothes in your hands and smiled as you saw him there waiting for you. His manly back wearing that white shirt that fit him well and made him look more attractive. Seungmin turned to see you, acting fast.

“Ah, yes, let’s go.”

Night had fallen on you without realizing it, so as you passed by he was lighting the way by turning on the switches in his home. By far, the interior design of his house was just like you imagined, dark furniture details, warm light, everything tidy; Seungmin directed you to his laundry room, but you shyly had your clothes wrapped up, because you had put your panties and bra in there, you were blushing, wanting Seungmin to turn around, but he was attentive, holding the washer lid for you.

“You can wash it and then dry it, I guess we’ll have time, apparently the rain will last for quite some time.”

You stared into his eyes, letting out a brief, nervous chuckle with a smile and as soon as he made eye contact with you, you took the opportunity to awkwardly shove your clothes into the machine.

“Really, thank you, Mr. Kim” you said genuinely, wanting to distract him.

He liked it when you called him by his name formally. He could’ve said you call me Seungmin, at least just for tonight, but he didn’t want to. Seungmin closed the lid of the washing machine and let it do its work after having previously prepared it while you were changing. He watched you for a moment, deciphering the kindness in your eyes but there was a certain glint of darkness in them that he didn’t know exactly what they meant, it intrigued him too much. Once again you felt some tension build, both of you were close, with nothing but each other’s breaths and gazes. He was about to move, to get out of there to want to cut and evade that strange feeling that was growing in him, when a loud thunder startled you and you took a step forward, brushing against your teacher’s body. Seungmin laughed softly, amused by your reaction. You closed your eyes, slightly frightened and whispered almost to yourself:

“God, storms make me nervous.”

Seungmin smiled, saying nothing, and didn’t notice your non-existent closeness until you opened your eyes and both of you stared at each other again, his smile slowly erasing, again going into a trance, seeing your eyes, your lips… god, it had been a long time since Seungmin had felt tension like this, it had been months since he had felt something so intimate, private and exciting. He couldn’t stop, he liked the sensation forming in him, his eyes traveled to your neck to your chest breathing deeply, your nipples became hard again, and your skin bristled at Seungmin’s intense gaze which you had never witnessed before, you could almost swear that his gentle and docile gaze would never change no matter what, that he was serious but you weren’t able to imagine him being angry or being rude… but now… it was just a game of piercing gazes. Seungmin smiled inwardly, looking cheekily at your chest, thinking maybe it was an attempt of yours to seduce him.

You half-opened your mouth, almost ready to speak, you didn’t know what exactly to say but you were both lost in each other, brushing bodies and clothes, unfortunately, the loud noise of the wind blowing and the tree branches hitting his windows distracted and scared both of you a little. Seungmin regained his posture, moving away from you. What at first was his heart beating vividly, passionately, and deeply, turned into a nervous and rapid beating; nothing could justify his actions, he didn’t know what he was doing, letting you come inches closer to him, allowing you to have intimate glances and breaths, he must have lost his mind, he felt dizzy, confused, a pervert for having a series of thoughts about you. Maybe the loneliness and abstinence were making him a little unhinged, he hadn’t had sex with his wife in long months.

But that didn’t justify wanting to fuck the first attractive woman who came across him and had a sexual tension.

“Mmm, it’s already night, are you hungry?” he spoke, nervously.

Seungmin wished to erase all thoughts, but being alone, trapped in the rain didn’t help him at all.

You licked your lips, looking at him and wondering if the situation would allow it… would you kiss your teacher? It was obvious he was nervous, you found it tender and warm the way he opened his eyes somewhat frightened, turning away from you, avoiding you.

“Mmm, no, thank you, were you… about to eat dinner, Mr. Kim?” you said a little flirtatiously, approaching him with slow steps.

Seungmin kept backing away nervously, as if he was someone else, as if he hadn’t seen your nipples harden brazenly a minute ago. He let out a chuckle, sighing in mock relief.

“Oh, no. That’s good, because I’m really not good in the kitchen” he joked, a big grin on his face.

You laughed softly.

“But” he continued, clearing his throat, “can I offer you… tea? You must be cold, let’s go get some hot tea.”

Seungmin turned quickly… thinking about what was supposed to entertain you for the night and remembered, of course, that you both shared a love of music. He gave you a small smile as he prepared the tea and you sat on the kitchen island chairs, leaving your useless cell phone with no signal on the counter.

The tea making was serious for him. You thought it was cute, he had it all, cups ready, plenty of options, it was tender, until you eyes got fixed in the way his long slender fingers worked.

Something about him today was making you restlessly excited, every move he made, he looked so elegant and attractive, putting the kettle on while dressed and looking like a handsome TV actor.

You had enjoyed your time with him, but it was hopelessly strained by the feeling of tangible tension in the room, maybe it was time to go home. Time to leave before you do something stupid.

“And… do you live around here?” he said suddenly.

The question surprised you. You didn’t think he would ask, but it was obvious, what were you doing in a kind of private wealthy neighborhood when you were supposed to live in a simple dorm at the university.

“No…” you mumbled nervously, “my aunt does, about 4 blocks from here” you lied. “I was at the local library for a paper and the closest option was this neighborhood.”

Lie after lie, you had a couple of secrets you’d never dare tell him, like the fact that you dated a guy long ago whose family lived in that same neighborhood and now, almost by fate, found out exactly where Seungmin lived.

Seungmin grimaced, leaning his body and elbows to the counter, a curious expression on his handsome face.

“Mmm, maybe I know her, maybe not, I don’t know everyone…”

“Yeah, I live in a dorm but, there’s something about the library in town that I like better than the one on campus” you interrupted him, trying to divert his attention.

He raised an eyebrow, “Your aunt was waiting for you at home?”

“No… I took the quickest way I could and still ended up wet” you replied to which Seungmin laughed, “And there’s no signal on my phone.”

“Ah, yeah, not on mine either. We’ll be out of communication for a while and then it’ll come back. This damn town and its problems. Is your phone charged at least? I heard there’ll be a blackout soon.”

You nodded quickly, stirring in your chair, sighing softly thinking about how to survive that night having him right in front of you, his arms exposed by his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his sure attractive appearance and complexion, staring at you. Until again, the squeaking of the teapot distracted you again. Seungmin prepared the tea very mainly and sat down next to you, passing you a plate with three biscuits, inviting you to take one with his gaze and a gentle waggle of his eyebrows, willing to at least enjoy someone’s company on that terrifying night of unstoppable rain.

You whispered a soft thank you, enjoying his company, admiring your closeness, blowing into your tea before taking a sip and feeling the immediate warmth in your body and the sweet taste. Cinnamon. You could smell since he was making it. So sweet and warm, just as you imagined the skin on his neck would be, with your nose brushing against it, delicately.

You both watched each other in silence for a moment, sipping from your drinks and taking a bite of the biscuit, until you decided to say more relaxed:

“Were you going somewhere dressing like that?”

He smirked immediately.

“Like what?” he asked, lowering his gaze to his attire. “Is it too much? It’s casual.”

“No. It looks good on you but…” Seungmin blushed slightly, his eyes widening in surprise at the soft compliment, cup in his hand “I don’t know why I thought you’d wear something more comfortable than… those beige pants.”

Your gaze unconsciously went to his thighs, his long thighs trapped in those jeans, you really hadn’t the slightest intention of seeing him like that, but you noticed Seungmin’s throat clearing and his hands rubbing on his thighs nervously. You raised your gaze, to meet his face close to yours, avoiding looking at you, with his lips pressed together. A wicked smile came across your face, still not understanding how he went from confident to shy in seconds. You lowered your gaze to his thighs, now really inspecting them the way he believed from the first time.

It was driving you crazy, you liked him too much.

“Oh yeah, and what did you think I’d wear?” he commented, using a playful tone.

You looked at him. There wasn’t so much need for more words to feel the ineffable. But you both wondered, who would be the one to make the very risky and forbidden move?

Again, his piercing gaze on you and his few inches of very little help.

“Mm, maybe-”

“Do you often think about what I’m wearing?” he chuckled, sipping from his tea.

Now he was slightly nervous. It was like a game, passing the anxious feeling among the tension.

He cleared his throat again. Stopping himself. Repeating to himself that you were his student and he had to treat you with respect.

“I was about to go to a meeting but it was canceled because of the storm” he added before without even letting you think of a quick answer.

“And why are you alone?” you words slipped from your mouth, in a soft sincere tone.

You saw his side in profile. You honestly just wanted to see him talk and talk. You threw the question out without thinking and earned a slightly dirty look from him, raising an eyebrow. Seungmin watched you for a few seconds before answering, then averted his gaze to the front.

“My wife is at a conference in another city,” he replied, almost reluctantly.

You played a bit with the cup, not taking your eyes off him. Why would he talk about his wife like that?

You nodded slightly and looked straight ahead too, at nothing specific. You pressed your lips together, thinking that you were no one to ask about his son and it was strange to mention the topic since he never did in the first place, and you... you just knew.

You felt the conversation was ending. Words were missing and there was only the haunting sound of heavy rain between you.

Your heart began to pound, you watched his exposed arms lean back against the kitchen island and suddenly you felt more of a doom approaching. You had to leave. You had never planned such a thing, never thought of him more than your little crush, never fantasized about him with uncontrollable passion as you did just now. You could control yourself, but you found it too difficult. That ring on his finger seemed to be staring at you, but something about the rest of him looked so inviting.

“Do you think... the rain will stop soon?”

You spoke. Seungmin reacted, delighting in your soft voice close to him after having had that series of thoughts where he questioned absolutely everything about him... what he could have done wrong for his wife to have stopped loving him? Almost forgetting that he had such a sweet company by his side.

“What?” he turned to look at you slightly concerned, “No. Why?”

You were embarrassed now, to have his attention and to say something that wouldn’t make sense now, let alone in the situation you were both in right now, trapped.

“To... not to bother you and go home,” you said, embarrassed, looking down and almost in an uncertain whisper.

“What?” he repeated. “You’re not bothering me, on the contrary... we can keep each other company, for now.”

You blushed and smiled. Your lips glossy and appetizing from the steady sips of tea. Seungmin wished for a second to be that cup to be between your hands and feel the brush of your lips.

Seungmin swallowed dryly. Nervous and overthinking suddenly.

“This... is making you uncomfortable, do you want to go home?”

You quickly denied, cowering at the thought of whether you wanted to flirt with him. It was just you two drinking tea.

“No, no. It’s not that... it’s just... kind of hard to be without a cell phone signal.”

He chuckled softly, gently raising the right side of the corner of his lips.

“You can’t live without your phone?”

“Oh! It’s not that either it’s just... I’m just thinking I hope my roommate thinks I'm okay."

He nodded softly and took another drink of his tea. You’ll be fine. Safe. He thought. That he had to calm down, he’ll never put you at risk, nor touch you. Why would he?

“But you are. I don’t think she’s going to come out looking for you in this situation, is she?”

You smiled amusedly in denial.

Silence formed between you. Your body relaxed at his presence, your heart was beating normally, it was just a soft, slight nervousness that wouldn’t leave you at ease. You never thought that such a moment would come, so you never thought what to talk about with your beloved crush, Professor Kim.

He sighed. You couldn’t watch a movie together, there was no wifi. But he could invite you over, make you feel more comfortable, like a guest or a visitor, show you his house, his music room, play some boring board game.

You felt yourself becoming shy beside him, after thinking it was cute when he got shy and you liked to playfully be slightly daring.

But his sincerity suddenly came out, giving insight into the reason for your silence, why there wasn’t much to say when he said:

“I guess... we don’t have much in common, huh? I’m just a teacher and you’re a student. I don’t want to ruin the moment by asking you about college, I know for many of you it’s a difficult or tiring topic that you’d rather not say.”

You smiled warmly at him, “I’m fine with talking about college. I like what I do. It’s not that tiring for me... and… you’re one of the professors who make studying worthwhile.”

Seungmin blinked, unprepared to receive a gentle compliment, coming from your soft lips covered in cinnamon tea.

“Well... Ah...” his eyes wouldn’t leave your figure for a second, tracing every feature of your face with his gaze, causing a slight warmth on your cheeks that he gradually noticed. “I guess we haven’t introduced ourselves either, we just assumed to know each other. I’m Kim Seungmin, a music teacher and... baseball commentator in my spare time.”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from smiling and trying to hide such a gesture all the time. It was like a dream filled with a dark palette of colors and the only bright thing was the two of you sitting next to each other. A beautiful scene, where you both decide to get to know each other.

“Y/n. Music student and... Taking journalism courses.”

You were afraid of sounding uninteresting to him, after all, your lives were opposite, but you connected in a way. He was an adult with his life figured out, you were a simple young woman whose life revolved around working or studying hard for your future.

Seungmin could have asked your age, but he didn’t want to. It was not relevant. He didn’t want to know the obvious age difference between you. You were young, pretty, sitting daintily next to his slim build of a man, older than you.

“Journalism? You want to end up on a news channel too?” he commented amused, taking a gentle sip of his tea again and setting it down on his plate afterwards, causing the distinct and first sound between you, glasses coming together.

You let out your smile again, laughing softly, “No, no, I really don’t see myself doing that.”

“And how do you see yourself in the future then?”

Hopefully by his side, his arms, in the nearest future. You thought. But it was harder than expected it.

“I don’t know yet... maybe, writing about music. Mm, that’s why I was at the library, only there are old newspaper archives saved on their computers.”

Finally, a truth spoken.

“Oh, so you’re a smart girl.”

As if Seungmin couldn’t like you more at that very moment, you come to mess with one of the qualities he likes so much in a woman.

You turned slightly red again.

“I wouldn’t say that as such...”

“Come on, be honest,” he spoke, more relaxed, turning his body slightly towards yours “what college student does their homework... goes to the library, on a Friday afternoon?”

You smiled incredulously.

“A lot of them actually, Mr. Kim” you replied evidently, turning your body towards him as well. “I think you slightly misconcept students” you joked.

Seungmin wanted for a second to change the tea for a beer, to make it more homely, more relaxed and joking, making it the perfect excuse to squeeze your shoulder ‘friendly’, the perfect excuse to talk to you like a cute and kind woman he met by chance, make it the perfect excuse to touch you and get close to you. But he had to stop all those thoughts and attempts.

Seungmin smiled, showing off his perfect, cute teeth, with a more relaxed countenance.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Then you’re just a good girl.”

In your mind you responded to that. You could have. It didn’t cost anything. More than a slightly awkward smile that showed your nervousness, making you look tender, as you nodded softly. But you didn’t. It was the way he said it, that caught you and surprised you, making you stare into his eyes, lost. It seemed like he said it in a soft, subtle tone... like he was flirting with you.

You didn’t want to delude yourself. But him staying with his body also turned towards you, not taking his gaze off you and allowing the tension to build told you otherwise, it was the worst thing, he was allowing it.

Seungmin achieved his goal. You got so worked up just with a subtle tone of his words. Right where he wanted you.

Your smile gradually faded and more like a reaction of disappointment, it was quite the opposite. Surprise. Uncertainty. Fear that the worst was about to happen.

At this point your knees were colliding and Seungmin opened his long thighs letting yours have a better fit between his. The breathing of both of you increased, there was no reason for both of you to be so tense, watching each other with an insightful desire. He is married and he is your teacher.

Seungmin wandered in his thoughts, if that’s what you wanted... or if he approached you he would look like a perverted, unfaithful idiot. He was transfixed, lost, enchanted and mesmerized in you but one false move and it could all be ruined. It was forbidden, risky. You both lost too much... or won.

And before you could even decide... the loud enough sound of his washing machine indicating that your clothes were ready to go into the dryer was sufficient to distract you both. Seungmin closed his eyes deeply, coming back to his senses, realizing the cruelty and stupidity that was about to happen if neither of you stopped, if only one of you had leaned a few inches closer to the other... Seungmin would have caught your lips without a second thought, would enjoy every second of the velvet feel of you on him, would hold your face and revel in your fine jaw movements traced on his fingers.

He shook his head gently and in one swift movement, stood up from the chair.

“You… your clothes are ready...” he stammered, nervous, agitated and dizzy.

But you on the other hand, did exactly the same, awkwardly, without thinking, whispering a useless:

“I... I can go.”

You thought of your underwear immediately, you felt embarrassed that he had to be the one to go look at your clothes, it felt like an invasion of your privacy... but that didn’t matter now, it decayed and destroyed in seconds the moment you both stood up from your chairs awkwardly, pushing them back slightly and leaving you both facing each other, bodies completely joined.

It took you a short second to raise your gaze and convey again with your eyes what your minds were trying to hide. He could pull away from you, he should have, but he chose not to.

You could feel his body rubbing against yours, giving you goosebumps. Stiffening your nipples and your muscles, which Seungmin noticed and without even thinking whispered:

“Are you... cold?”

It wasn’t cold. But more like a mechanism for surviving his closeness, you could feel him so close, this time it didn’t take anything... just leaning closer to his lips. The shame left your body, that shame you felt for a second that he would see your underwear if he went to that beeping call in his laundry room, that moment between you was intimate enough, you wanted to be completely vulnerable before him if possible... but would you do it? Would you risk it? To your married professor?

You shook your head softly. Throwing it all to hell. Maybe just for tonight. You were alone, and if it’s just a kiss... you didn’t want to think about the consequences, you didn’t want to think about the highly possibility that he might throw and shove your body in annoyance that you made such a nefarious move, or that after a kiss you both didn’t know what to do... but his bright, dark eyes said something else.

Your eyes sparkled too. Your countenance relaxed and you half-opened your mouth. Seungmin knew exactly your next move as soon as he detected every single signal. But he stood there.

That lonely man let himself be carried away. He let him revel in your sweet face, your blushing cheeks and your eyelids closing, moving closer and closer to him to join your lips. Seungmin didn’t let it be awkward for a second, he also closed his eyes and let himself be carried away by the new world of sensations you brought him to. From the first second your lips collided, you both knew that this was where you were both meant to be.

Explosions of emotions growing in you both, he first enjoyed the soft and pillowy impact of your lips and suddenly... warm, silky jasmine bloom petals, cinnamon flavored, a subtle and intoxicating sensation, driving him insane, hypnotizing him, velvet lips against his dry and lonely ones, it was so delicate and beautiful, leaving his heart pounding, leaving him with a lingering, unforgettable impression.

Both of you finally relaxed, leaving just than your racing hearts, strength and attraction to be with each other, but kissing deeply and passionately, sharing and creating a secret in the heavy rain that night.

It was leading to doom for both of you. The storm had unleashed more than one disastrous problem. Infidelity, lust, desire, passion. Revealing every little secret, your infatuation for a married man, your less than innocent intentions, your willingness to commit the perfect adultery; his lonely life, his abstinence, his sadness and rage and above all, the carnal desires of both of you. It was as if the two were kissing for the first time. It felt incredibly intimate and vulnerable. Your chest brushing against his, while both of your hands still dared not touch... it was purely wicked.

Seungmin clenched his fists tightly until he couldn’t feel his hand. He must push you away, he must stop kissing you, stop not reciprocating, but he couldn’t give in. It had been a long time since he had felt like this, with the level of adrenaline and excitement as he did now. He was enjoying and rejoicing in every damn second, forgetting who he is for a moment.

And then, just as a fleeting flash of lightning struck, followed within seconds by its thunderous sound, you dared to do it, to touch him... to put your hands on his chest as soon as you knew he was reciprocating just the way you had dreamed.

But that only unleashed almost a trigger in Seungmin. What were warm hands doing on him, wanting to wrap around his neck...? From another woman, a woman who wasn’t his wife... and what were his lips doing on yours?

He stopped it abruptly, pulling away from you, leaving you confused, your lips red, sucked and glossy, begging for more. But he watched you in fear, his tender eyes wide in terror, his flat chest rising and falling heavily as he stood three feet away from you.

He couldn’t believe it.

He began to get nervous. What had he done? Why, and with whom... with someone he barely knew? You had never exchanged so many words, more than the necessary ones shared in his class. But now... he was absolutely screwed, worst of all, he was liking it. Everything in him wanted to get close to you again and kiss you even deeper, to drown in you.

You smiled. Finding it ridiculous to stop just when things were about to get more real, you weren’t going to accept it. You had to have him, at least today, you both wanted this, you knew that.

You took steps towards him, but he kept backing away.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, it was a mistake.”

He tried to explain. Remedy himself. But it was in vain, you were so possessed by having him, now.

“Was it?”

You tilted your head and looked at him, your emotions running high. Your heart pounding hard in your chest like raindrops on the ground. Please don’t act shy, Mr. Kim, you wanted to say, but your intense gaze spoke for itself. The mistake had already been made and it was obvious that he reciprocated with an inexplicable passion because you both desired each other, but he was simply in denial for a moment, stunned, accelerated and frightened. Never, in his 13 years of relationship with his wife, had he ever...

Seungmin stood still, letting you approach him again. You thought he looked so cute. You didn’t know his wife and you didn’t want to.

And he thought... you were alone anyway. He thought about Gaeun; what will keep her so distant from him?

Having you like this, in front of him, with a bright, lustful gaze, willing to risk everything to this night... it made him think... that if it was possible that his wife’s lack of interest was because she also found someone else.

“The lights will go out any minute, we should get ready and look for flashlights and lamps and things from the.... garage...”

Seungmin swallowed dryly as soon as you got back in front of him. He didn’t even know what he was saying, he was spouting any nonsense... trying to distract himself from the obvious fact of his desire for you.

You nodded, playfully, pressing your lips together in a sizzling pout.

“You’re right, Mr. Kim. We should get ready... should we.... stay together?”

You brushed your nose against his. Sharp and strangely cold. Your bodies were coming together again and you tilted your head again, gently, this time in a more confident motion, not hesitating for a second whether he wanted it or not. You knew. Because he was slowly preparing his lips, because his whole body was yielding and surrendered in front of you. You kissed, slowly, knowing absolutely nothing about each other, but seeming to know every part of you, you were in such synchronicity. You were making the same movements, enjoying the same thing... or maybe Seungmin was enjoying it maybe a little more than you.

It was inevitable, that your soft lips, tantalizing and provocative, did not provoke in him a tingle in his very vulnerable organ, right in his crotch. He felt pathetic, feeling himself getting firmer and firmer and his erection pumping slowly up and down his length... all from the simple act of soft, short kisses, teasing him, from the simplicity and intimacy of the moment, of your lips touching his, then leaving them... leaving light, sonorous kisses that left him wanting more and more... until finally taking it hard and not letting go.

Seungmin held your face in his hands, a warm and cool sensation at the same time, he did it just as he had fantasized too, his fingers memorizing every soft stroke of your cheeks and jaw, of the feel of your lower face, moving, synchronizing in his movements, colliding face to face, his straight nose tenderly brushing your skin at first, then in seconds pressing hard, deepening each movement, each kiss, sharing breath, or lack thereof, absolutely mesmerized with each other.

Sweetly you placed your hands on his ribs and held on to that shirt that was too big for him. You let yourself go and moved as close as you could to his body, pulling him completely together, instantly surprised at the firm, hard sensation protruding from his pants.

It was obvious that by being kissed in such a sweetly wild and passionate way, in such an inexplicable way as you both were, you were also slowly building excitement, satisfaction and some sexual pleasure... but knowing that he was already fully aroused was something you didn’t expect. As you kept kissing... you wondered for a moment... if it was just that, a sizzling make out? Nothing more? Or if you should really be ready for anything and start with something more. Something truer, dirtier and more intimate, take action by discovering how this had Seungmin.

You began, opening your mouth tentatively, letting him taste the inside of your mouth, let your tongue play with his, let the act escalate and become even more erotic. Seungmin in disbelief took it all in and sucked your lips hard as this time he delighted in your warm, restless muscle. It was becoming real, but his intentions were still unclear.

The constant thought of whether something sexual was really happening... you had to be prepared. You never believed it. You didn’t even think you were capable of approaching your teacher beyond a simple question related to some project. What would have him so aroused? Besides the incredible fact of your sizzling kisses. But the thought that he was fantasizing about you made you gasp. But there you were, both of you, devoted. Your arousal was growing, having his warm body against yours, his mouth fighting against yours as well and his lean, tall build surrendered to what the night had in store for you was getting to you enough, making your body desperately ask for more and more of Seungmin. So you took a bold step in haste, an important action to finally be the two of you under that storm. If he’d already been fucked one part then you’d make sure he’d get fucked all of it and make it worth it.

With your sensitive area tingling and your lips tenderly moistened, right down there, while the ones on top were still being devoured by a man with his libido at its peak, one of your hands slowly slid down to caress his erection and squeeze it right under those pants. That took Seungmin by complete surprise, who at first gasped softly between your lips but your continuous caresses disoriented him even more, causing him to pull away from you for the second time. He took a step back again with his breathing heavy.

You bit your lip, confused and excited at the same time, you were agitated and fearful that you had done something wrong, besides the cruel game of adultery you were getting into, in the same house where he lived with his wife every day. Seungmin didn’t rethink the idea of infidelity, in the end he had already committed the stupidity... but he thought if...

“Darling... are you sure… of doing it?”

Seungmin’s ears were red and while your cheeks tinted the same color. His tone of voice was more serious and insecure. Inside, he was dying for you to say yes.

Seungmin... was never the most sexual man, he loved his wife and could live his life without having so much sex, and he was aware that devoting his life to his young son would gradually decrease their sexual encounters, he was fine with that, sex two or once a month, fine, he hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t do it that often... but no sex for four months, constant cold treatment from his wife towards him... it was driving him crazy, he needed more than discharge his energy, he needed to solve the problem from the root, get help by being a real man, but that night he was going to forget about that completely. He was going to have you all to himself if...

“Yes...”

You moved closer to him, tangling your fingers in the loops of his pants and pulling his body towards you.

“Isn’t this what you want too, Professor Kim?”

You used the most seductive tone you could find in you, making Seungmin’s cock throb just from the gentleness of your words. The thought went to his head and pumped centered in his crotch... you were both going to be corrupted.

He nodded, embarrassed. If you had known... that this would be happening... maybe you would have worn your best perfume so the scent would still linger on you, better make-up that would last over everything... but all those little details seemed to matter little to Seungmin. He wanted you, just now, you could tell in the hungrier way he kissed you, desperate but in nimble movements, without being messy for a second. You kept shyly rubbing his erection as Seungmin’s hands caressed you this time. His big hand on your face while the other cupped your neck, feeling the fineness of your hair getting in the way, your warm skin and throbbing body, Seungmin could feel it. His hand traced your breasts over the fabric of his sweater and down to your hip, you knew what awaited you, still you moaned between his tongue buried in your mouth as you felt his skin brush against yours, his hand moving up your abdomen under that sweater. Seungmin played with every inch of your skin, squeezing it tightly, stroking your skin and feeling every fine hair on your stomach and tracing his long fingers down your lower back, still not quite reaching your breasts.

You were panting, holding back subtle moans between his mouth pressed to yours. Those other people’s leggings began to bother you, to feel so suffocating on your legs. You were making a mess in his wife’s leggings, moistening them, leaving every trace of your throbbing sex from all the desire built up by Seungmin.

He wanted to take his time, enjoy your mouth a while longer and rejoice in the feel of your skin and then enjoy your breasts in his hands.

His swollen lips went down to the bare, sensitive skin of your neck, his hand removed some of your hair and let it rest on the back of your neck while the other finally dared to come up and touch your very aroused breasts, you heard him moan softly into your neck as he touched them, his fingers playing with your nipples, his big hand squeezing them.

“Why aren’t you wearing anything, huh?” he whispered in a babble, as aroused as he had ever been, every part of his manly body desperate for sex, his member rigid and needy, his heart almost pounding through his chest.

“M-my underwear got wet too...” you replied, causing you to shiver through the sounds of voices.

He scoffed at your neck. “And I thought you were such a good girl...”

You were beginning to despair, to sweat slightly even. Your cute, needy area hadn’t received any attention so far, unlike his, you kept rubbing his growing, large bulge.

“Come here” he whispered.

He pulled away from you slightly, placing your hands on your waist as he left fleeting kisses on you, pulling your body and to guide you following his slightly awkward step to the one of the edges of the kitchen island. Seungmin lifted your body with ease, leaving you sitting on the cold marble. You were grateful, every second you spent standing in front of him you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker, useless with incomparable sexual energy.

You had the opportunity to observe him completely, his agitated countenance and his sex infused with eroticism. You licked your lips, almost thirsty to see, touch, and feel what was visible under his pants, to visualize that bulge released... but his gentle caresses diverted your gaze and made you stare into his dark, lust-filled eyes.

A smile curled on his thin lips.

“Then I guess you’re not wearing your panties either.”

You shook your head at his comment and saw his hands lustfully lose themselves under that sweater, caressing your abdomen and breasts, making you bite your lips hard. In one swift movement, Seungmin pulled your body by your hips, leaving you close to him, your legs spread wide, positioning himself in between them and stealing a few kisses as his hands tugged at the leggings that were the only garment blocking his view of your needy sex covered deliciously in the lubrication released by your worked up glands.

You sighed half-heartedly and helped him up a bit, leaving those slippers on the floor and jerked your body, finally allowing the garment to slip off of you, his knuckles grazing your thighs, down your legs until you were vulnerably exposed. You bit your lip, unsure of being in such a position with him, but you were already highly aroused, just longing for him to finally touch you and make you his over and over again.

Seungmin scoffed, joyful, excited and finding it unreal everything that crossed his mind and he was dying to do to you. He almost sighed as he got a small glimpse of your pussy. You pressed your legs together, without thinking about it, preventing him from seeing the full view of you.

You moaned softly, your pussy exposed, feeling the ambient climate, wet and throbbing. Seungmin looked into your eyes as you saw every part of him, his face, his shiny black hair illuminated in warm light, his countenance, his hands on your legs, his large and appetizing erection... he watched you, seeking approval to which you nodded once and spread your legs, showing him sin disguised as pure paradise. His eyes sparkled as he realized that he would be pleasuring a beautiful woman, that he would have her vulnerable and aroused, moaning, touching and enjoying what was most forbidden to both of you. A beautiful and pretty woman, who on Monday morning had to treat her as just another student.

The corner of his lips forming a half smile and his cock trembled at the same time, he was dying for this feeling from you, for you to give his erect member a warm, frantic and cozy place to be in, he had yearned for it for a long time and now he had it all with you. Seungmin watched your face, slightly red, your body still wearing his sweater, leaning gently against the marble and your pussy exposed... your sweet delicacy of femininity gently rubbed by the fabric of those leggings, ready to be touched.

He teased you a little, superficially running his hands over your mons pubis, giving you a hot shiver and depriving you of an audible moan, thinking he was about to touch you, but he didn’t, his hands went up your abdomen and waist, lifting the sweater in his wake and leaving you with your breasts exposed, to knead and play with them, squeeze them, pinch your nipple, making every part of his hand remember the feel of them; then he leaned to you, you looked at him expectantly and excitedly and Seungmin dared to give you the sweetest kiss so far, slow, full of passion and secrets, as if you were a real pair of lovers.

His hands were still on your breasts and his lips came down in time with them, by the time Seungmin was kissing your jaw, his hand cupped your pussy in its entirety and his long middle finger slowly and gently caressed your wet pussy lips, causing you to moan. Seungmin pulled away from you, looking at you expectantly and fascinated at the result of your sweet red face beginning to moan; he continued with hot wet kisses on your neck, squeezing your breasts with one hand and with the other finally working on your needy sex.

He almost raised an eyebrow, slightly taken by surprise at how warm and very wet your pussy was, it was unexpectedly satisfying, his hand sliding on your velvety vulva.

You watched him, your brow furrowed at the constant concentration and stimulation your body was receiving, your eyebrows down, your eyelids drooping in heavy ecstasy each time his hot breath hit your skin and his hand began to touch you. You wanted to see it, you wanted to see the dirty act of his long fingers that you always fantasized about touching, tracing and memorizing your womanhood with, his hand getting lost in your wet center, desecrating your sweet forbidden place for a married man like him; but his body was all over you, his face wandering your skin, his nose and lips kissing all the way down your body until he reached your breasts while his skillful fingers pressed just the right spot on your intimate part, causing you to gasp and arch your back gently.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, you always wanted this, don’t you? Did you fantasize about you teacher fucking you?” he mumbled, breathy and aroused against your sensitive skin.

Every word made your skin crawl. It was true. You fantasized about him all the time, in every possible scenario.

“Y-ye… Mm, I like you, Mr. Kim…” you struggled to say between moans, held grunts and intense lip bites.

“It’s like you’ve been waiting for me to touch you… feel that little soaked pussy.”

The idea got him harder, the sweet, nice and smart girl of his class, nonchalant but charismatic… somehow finding a way to seduce the old man of her—your professor, to make him misbehave in an irrevocably lust and him to have you, blissful and naked, with an arouse stirring body every time he touched your cunt wrapped in an exquisite sloshing sound.

Somehow you got shy at how wet you were feeling, making a mess for him.

His mouth found your breasts and lingered on them, devouring them with insatiable lust, from your angle you saw perfectly his naughty tongue circle your nipple, gently biting and sucking it, but the pleasure didn’t end there visually, you were exploding in sensations, being stimulated from the root that had you panting, Seungmin played with your clit in delicious movements, also knowing exactly which parts of your vaginal lips to explore, delighting the wetter they got.

“Are you okay, are you enjoying it?”

He questioned you sizzlingly, his innocent gaze riveted on yours with his face close to abdomen. Seungmin had left your breasts sore and stimulated and was doing the same with your pussy, using and stimulating it with his hand.

“Mmm, yes yes yes... fuck” you could only beg needily, stretching out your words.

He smiled again, kissing your abdomen and slipping a finger into you with ease at such you lubricated pussy you now had. His lips caressed lower and lower until they stopped at the skin of your pubis, finally he raised his gaze and stood straight, watching your pelvis move slightly at his stimulation. As he pulled away you could see it, his thumb pressing and caressing your clit, his middle finger driving you crazy at the soft, wet effect of being inside you moving constantly while the rest of his fingers struggled with playing a little more with your labia.

His left hand continued to caress you with no set rhythm, moving up your abdomen, breasts and neck; this was becoming a pleasurable torture for Seungmin, as the dirty act of keeping his hands busy on you was taking him more than just into forbidden territory, but into the new sensations of a sexual desperation, he was feeling the agonizing pain of his firm unstimulated cock, his pants were squeezing, his manhood was screaming for attention but he found it more important to pleasure you first, in delighting himself at the touch of a woman. Seungmin missed it too much, the power he felt in having control of a woman’s pleasure, of the sweet, soft moans coming out of their mouths, of the wild, messy sex, of his hands getting dirty in their pleasure... and he had you, you weren’t bad, on the contrary, you were all a dream come true, your pussy smooth, young, juicy, ready to be treated wonderfully as you deserved.

Seungmin enjoyed reacting to the pleasure you were having, your hands leaning on the marble and bending your fingers in sign of wanting to scratch the table, your sweet babbling moaning and your cute sucking air between your teeth while you brought two of your fingers with slight desperation to your labia majora, one finger on each side, rubbing your skin because you really didn’t know exactly where to put your hands, you were acting agitated, the sex and foreplay was clouding your sight and mind.

He slipped his second finger in with ease, digging into you as deep as he could touch, but it was enough, his long fingers were scratching a delicious spot on you. You wouldn’t take your eyes off him, he looked so good giving pleasure and to him you looked so good at that angle, being a little mess on his kitchen table, wearing his sweater, pulled up to your chest, exposing your breasts, legs sweetly spread, letting him use your pussy.

His third finger, making you squeal, a third finger was already opening your entrance and might as well be the perfect thickness of a penis in you, you bit your lip, watching his left hand settle his crotch, squeezing it as he mumbled a “Fuck” then using that hand on you, playing with your clit and wrapping his digits around your stimulated labia. You thought about how hard it must be for him, being so incredibly stiff and aroused, with his cock still trapped under those khaki pants, but at the same time you fantasized about the image of his cock and the idea of him filling you completely, fucking you non-stop.

Seungmin looked you up and down, from your flushed face to the nakedness of your body and your wet pussy being pleasured and he licked his lips.

“You’re enjoying it, huh? Tell me you’re enjoying it.”

You nodded, resenting the change of rhythm of his fingers on you, from a slow and teasing one to a faster and more violent one, setting you to moan throatily, “Yes-yes” revealing your needy naturalness.

“You fucking like that, huh?”

Seungmin who was well known for being neat and tidy, was getting fascinated by the way in the mess you were leaving on his fingers and his table; he was so excited that your pussy received heavy but slightly gentle slaps from his hand, making you aroused and moan; he did so, biting his lower lip, just to remark how you were for him and swell and redden even more your stimulated vulva for what was awaiting you.

Everything was so hot in itself and when you didn’t think it could get any better, when you thought he was going to let you bring you to orgasm with his fingers penetrating you, caressing your pussy with the room already filled with moans and your wet cunt sounds; his thin mouth made its presence tasting the skin of your pubis all the way down and sucked on your clit. You couldn’t believe it, it was unreal every move that man made in you and you let him make.

“I want you to cum in my mouth, princess, I want to taste you... all of you.”

He said, sending vibrations into your core at every hot breathy word, making you shudder.

Seungmin sucked your clit, almost giving it a loud, dirty, slow but lovely kiss, putting dedication to that key spot in you as his fingers filled your insides. His tongue was warm and the strength of it was impressive, the tip of his tongue exquisitely pushed the right places, he licked your length with no problem and went about eating you completely, making you collapse between your pelvis and roll your eyes as you babbled how good it felt.

His licks kept an exquisite rhythm that brought you to the perfect stimulation that made your entire body shudder and you could almost be sure for certain an intense orgasm was approaching in you, putting every feeling on the edge in every inch of you. His movements of his hot tongue were so perfectly performed that Seungmin seemed to have already studied your anatomy before and made you just the way he was driving you crazy, his fingers never leaving your entrance and his tongue getting lost in your wet center. You felt him so close and it put you into an agonizing, shuddering rush of emotions, you stroked his hair, his straight shiny dark hair. He looked at you, his kind and tender eyes thirsty for sex as his mouth was buried in your pussy, while it felt every particle of his lips, tongue and the soft bite of his teeth.

Seungmin caressed your body, your breasts, your thighs and just when he felt your body trembling indicating your approaching orgasm, he pulled his fingers away from you, sucked your cunt and squeezed your thighs tightly, provoked your entrance with his muscle and closed his eyes with intensity as he felt the desperate tingling in his crotch, but enjoyed and savored every subtle movement of your body, your gasps and all your intense orgasm, spilled into him.

You felt embarrassed for a second, your breath hitching as you tried to take in what just happened... your handsome teacher you were always in love with, as soon as you saw him, had just given you oral sex and gifted you with the best experience and orgasm... suddenly nothing seemed real, you were unaware of everything around you, but the only familiar thing was him, reveling in you, humming ‘mmmm’ as he made sure to taste everything from you.

Seungmin adored that, adored you now. Seungmin stood up, his elegant countenance looked glisteningly dirty, his chin glistening in your fluids. He smiled, his cheeks softly flushed, squeezed your thighs and said:

“Mmm, you’re such a good girl, did I make you cum, baby?”

You bit your lip. He was still hard. So not content with your thrilling and stirring orgasm, you sat up slightly, seeing him in the same position he had already been in for some time to which, breathlessly you commented:

“Can I help you, Mr. Kim?”

Your hand went once more to the stiffness of his erection, rubbing your hand on it and you noticed his almond-shaped eyes close, his jaw tightening as he cursed softly. You sighed, taking his reaction as blunt approval without the need for words and with your pussy well stimulated and sticky, you did your best not to slide messily on that table, as if you hadn’t made enough of a mess already. Seungmin watched your every move carefully and as soon as a naughty smile formed on your face and you got down on your knees in front of his notorious cock erection, he let out hot, deep and loud sigh closing his eyes.

“Let me return the favor, Professor Kim.”

You looked up, watching him innocently. You knew what he was playing at. The reason why he never allowed you to call him Seungmin or correct you... was it that he was playing the dirty game of corrupting one of his young students? Either way, you thought it was fucking hot, calling him and treating him with a certain authority.

Your mouth began to salivate at the thought of his stiff shaft on your tongue and his particular taste. You tried not to shudder at the undoing of his belt but you were getting horny again and you were recovering from an orgasm at the same time so the task was somewhat complicated, but you wasted no time and as soon as you could, you unbuttoned and pulled down his pants and underwear, leaving in front of you his swollen, virile sex, its tip pink and covered in white by the little mess made of his own precum. Your heart skipped a beat, you looked at him who was looking down at you from above and then you looked at his sleek cock, as nice as he was, you couldn't believe it. Its size was ideal and holding it in your hand made you sigh, just like all the small, or big, things he provoked in you.

You smiled broadly without containing the enormous happiness you felt holding the swollen and vibrating sex of that married man in your hand. You knew you were doing too much wrong, that karma could come back to you in the worst way, but you couldn’t stop, it was an addictive activity that put your morals aside. Your heart beat madly again; Seungmin stroked your hair at once and watched every action in detail, your hand holding his length, feeling and delighting in every inch of his texture. You had never felt yourself with an insatiable sexual appetite as you did now, every intense pulsation of his throbbing cock in your hands as you moved up and down; you didn’t resist your mouth getting the same, or even a better experience, so you stuck out your tongue and made sure to taste every part of Seungmin, starting with his silky smooth tip, wrapping it around your tongue and moistening it as you shyly licked the rest of his length and dared to slowly and carefully take it into your mouth, almost in an innocent and shy way, but as soon as you felt his throbbing, needy cock in a sufficient quantity to fill your cavity, the corners of your lips lifted into a smile of genuine happiness, it felt so good, to make him feel good, it felt so good to have the man of your dreams whimpering as he clenched at your hair and you watched him throw his head back, exasperated and aroused. Seungmin had a smooth texture, an exquisite way of filling your mouth with his cock, and you happily began to suck him in gentle motions, taking your time and savoring every part of his rigid shaft. He for his part, trembled, whimpering from deep within his chest, wanting to shed tears of happiness at feeling fully filled, at being satisfied and cared for in the vulnerability of his solitude.

“Ohh yeahh, ff-fuck” he grunted, his voice thick, lost in sex.

He tried to be tough and not so loud, but he was, his pleasure noises were slowly becoming consistently more agonizing. Every gasping moan came from deep inside him, he was enjoying it, too much, experiencing sex like he never had before.

His eyes blinked constantly, trying not to water at the sensation of his cock being perfectly pumped and, a couple more grunts, he saw downward, your submissive body on your knees and your sweet lips wrapping around his broad penis as your head kept in constant motion, his cock losing itself in your cavity, the inside of your cheeks wrapping around his detonating veins and skin, his glans going deep enough to tease your throat and graze your uvula and palate, your hands playing with his balls from time to time and caressing his pubic area going up to his smooth V line of his pelvis; and when your jaw ached, you pulled his wet, hot sex out of you and whimpered for air, licked your lips and stroked his erection again. It was a dream, a dirty, pornographic dream come true, it was raw, and real; your mascara running subtly, being waterproof and enduring the heavy drops of the storm hitting your face, but not your teacher’s stiff cock leaving you breathless.

Seungmin moaned loudly, thinking he could cum right there, feasting you with every drop of his cum while leaving your pretty face smeared on it too. But he wanted and wished for something better than filling your mouth, he wanted to unload all that rush of cum and fill your little pussy. Oh your pussy... Seungmin would start having you in his dirtiest fantasies from today on, he would dream about you, he would fill his underwear with cum just thinking about you, he would masturbate thinking about you and your heaving body and used cunt... he had no words to describe how amazed he was with you now.

And you, watching him stroking your hair and being needy, panting and surrendered to you did not compare to any of your previous experiences. This was Seungmin, that handsome man you spent time watching in videos, on TV, in your classroom, you didn't want anyone else, ever.

He saw you fidgeting, your legs moving more than usual as you became aroused again and your mouth struggling with his cock as a glistening dribble of saliva combined with his precum came out in the messy act. He was ready to replace the softness of your lips wrapped around his cock with your luscious cunt.

“Come here, ahhh, let me put you back on the table.”

He was doing his best to keep himself on edge. You were sucking and licking him every stress and night he mindlessly slept sadly without the slightest show of affection.

Your eyes sparkled and grew innocently bigger at his breathy, husky, almost stifled moan of request, but you heeded him. He grabbed you by the waist and put you back on the table in your old place. He hurriedly removed your sweater leaving you completely naked, you were surprised for short seconds but understood as soon as you realized he had a lustful look on his face and his big hand was stroking his wet cock. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Seungmin moved closer to you and you trembled with nervousness and excitement as your mind and body recognized what was about to happen, but he bit his lip, wavering between actually doing it or not... it was what he wanted most, to fill you completely, to pierce your warm and soft inside.... but the fleeting thought of looking for a condom also crossed his mind, it was the ideal thing to do, it was the right thing to do, you had already both screwed everything up... he couldn’t risk the constant feeling of danger for a few exquisite moments of pleasure, could he?

You began to get desperate and spread your legs slowly giving him the view of your exposed pussy and also the beautiful sight of your naked body, yielding to him. You leaned towards him, touching the collar of his shirt and whispered in his ear.

“Come on, Mr. Kim. Do it... no problem, please fuck me” you asked him moaning hotly every word, wanting him not to hesitate and do what you had dreamed of so much.

What you had dreamed of so much... you still remembered the first time you thought how much you wanted Professor Kim Seungmin to fuck you hard. It must have been a simple Thursday, years ago, when you were even younger, when something about him looked different... his forehead was slightly uncovered, he had combed his hair differently and a few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, he looked so tender and carefree, but for some reason you began to fantasize that behind that sweet and innocent appearance was a real man. He started playing the guitar and that drove you to perdition, you couldn’t stop thinking about his hands, touching and squeezing your skin, filling and moving skillfully and subtly in your pussy as he did with those strings.

A smile you hadn’t seen on his face until now was plastered on it, it was arrogant, cocky and showed a certain happiness in it. You wanted to say a little more, to provoke him by hinting that he wouldn't dare to do such a thing... but his hand taking his throbbing cock distracted you completely and your sight was diverted to the act.

Your heart picked up steam again and each heavy breath became more intense each time you watched as he and his erect manhood moved closer to your core. It was about to happen, and he warned you with a thick, raspy in your ear:

“I will make you mine...”

He whispered, almost internally more to himself than for you, as if his whole body was preparing for the big moment of the night, the perfect moment to culminate the disaster of an egregious infidelity, one of the worst things that could have happened in his house, the sexual act with a quasi-stranger. And you felt it. His wet, fleshy tip rubbing, pressed from your clit going down into your slippery labia and finally teasing your entrance until pushing himself slowly inside you, into your so empty pussy, now being slowly filled by his length sliding deep into you. You both sighed in exasperation and bit your lip watching his cock finely pierce your insides as Seungmin was still close to you. You watched that explicit part of both of your bodies come together and then admired his smooth features, reveling in the sensation of the most forbidden sex.

A bright, eerie lightning strike came through that window in his kitchen, followed by his outrageous thunder, again, but nothing could frighten you or impress you this time, finally, being completely consumed by desire and sin. You moaned ragged and needy, clinging to his shirt and back to every inch his hard cock pierced and advanced deep in you, you were on the edge of that table where he usually lived day after day, taking hold of his desire and body at every single little thrust of your pussy consuming his cock. Seungmin moaned too, victorious and relieved like never before in his life, closing his eyes deeply and enjoying his sex joining yours.

Your thighs squeezed and encircled his hips as you let out a squeal at the feel of his manhood scratching your cervix, being deeply buried in you and feeling his length throbbing between your walls. Seungmin let out a growl, breathless, reflecting his arousal that was setting him on edge with his emotions running high. Your devotion was afloat, it was so tangible and pure that the rain could witness the big lie, that it was two lovers making love to each other that night. His thumb caught your chin still wet in the combination of his fluids and your saliva from the dirty act performed by your pretty mouth moments ago, he ran his finger across your lips, across your erotically open mouth begging for sex and his face moved closer to you, giving you a sizzling, passionate kiss as he finally started the real end game, the disastrous final act where the married man engulfed and let himself be carried away by temptation and sin, moving his intimacy into yours, leaving you breathless, easily sliding his cock into your tight core that burned like the sweetest inferno.

You let yourself be penetrated, moaning between his lips each time his swollen, throbbing cock slid into you, your sounds beginning to be questionable, between pleasurable pain, your body throbbing and aroused and your hands firmly clutching his back. Seungmin continued to kiss you, harder and harder as he set an agonizing rhythm inside your pussy. He was in glory, touching heaven every time his cock moved inside your tight insides and was smothered by your spongy walls. Every function of your body seemed to change and only work on his constant movement against your body and your pleasure.

He let you breathe, ramming into you as he intimately pressed your foreheads together and admired your exhausted face and energetic body being pounded over and over again. The sound of your wet pussy being used took over the place in conjunction with the gasps of both of you; somewhat awkwardly you searched for a way to unbutton his shirt, in haste as your whole body trembled and struggled to get used to his exquisite pace, finally leaving him with his bare chest and abdomen.

“Fuck, fuuuck...” he gasped with his hot breath hitting your face.

It was frantic, but slow, deep and precise, each thrust moved something in you and blurred your vision, you were being purely filled with joy. You caressed his abdomen and luridly lowered your gaze to your entrance being fucked over and over again. Seungmin brought his hands up, the right one gripped on your waist while the left one desperately caressed your breasts, he controlled your body with ease, making you settle and you let out a soft cry as you felt his cock sweetly hit a spot on you, managing to arch your back. He reached for your neck, taking it between his hand. You stared at him, his sweet gaze was gone and he was just watching you... differently, taking out every frustration on your body.

Seungmin began to ram you faster and deeper, colliding skin against skin, leaving you immobile but excitedly restless. He began to use your body more as an object of desire, taking absolute control of you. His threatening, sensual grip on your neck began to take on meaning as he squeezed it tighter and tighter each time. For a moment he stopped being that tender teacher with that soft image you used to remember and had become simply Kim Seungmin, an older man with whom you were gaining experience, giving you the most intense sex and next orgasm. You could feel him, depriving your breath, squeezing your neck tightly until he left you struggling, just at the hottest and sweetest moment of the sex act, when you were being fucked hard, his pelvis thrusting hard into your body every time his cock slid into you, just when you were exasperatedly agitated, struggling with your breathing, he simply choked you erotically, making sure to make each of his thrusts so intense that your torso resented every stroke.

Your body was easy to control, you were becoming a doll with which he could deposit all his semen and fulfill even his dirtiest fantasy. Slowly you let yourself enjoy, slowly lying back on the cold marble, allowing yourself to be used by him. You touched his arms, his hand around your neck. You were so close, to your exasperation at not feeling air and to the most intense point of your sexual climax. Seungmin could tell, your strong lip bite and arched back were easy signs, but he had no plans to leave you tired from just the first big round of your long night of fun. Your breasts began to jiggle violently between each hard thrust, your blood began to pump rapidly with force, struggling to keep your body’s composure functioning, pushing you to orgasm and desperation to get your proper oxygenation. Still, you were in heaven itself, being touched by his sex over and over again with your fingers brushing the soft skin of his arms on your neck.

A deep growl escaped Seungmin’s lips between excited sighs as he felt the sizzling kiss of your walls on his cock, squeezing it and indicating your intense orgasm.

He slowly released you, leaving your neck slightly red, you breathed deep and fast, trembling and feeling the crazy rhythm of your heart pounding in every inch of you. Seungmin teased you by filling deeper into you, he smiled at the sight of you, your body losing control and giving in to each pounding thrust that hit your pussy hard. He stroked your lips with his thumb, your mouth half open, feeling dry at the exasperated moans coming from you from such frantic activity.

“Are you about to cum, little one?”

Seungmin questioned you, lowering his hand delicately to your naked body, caressing it with his knuckles and making you shudder all over. You were still struggling slightly for air, but you nodded desperately and as he bit his lip gently, raising his eyebrows motivating you, authorizing and urging you on, you were already collapsing under his intense act. You touched his arms, holding your trembling body and sobbed moaning in pure joy, culminating intensely with his rigid member thrusting into you. You looked at his handsome face during the process and he moaned echoing your orgasm in him.

As soon as you were done and your abdomen was rising and falling with heaviness and agitation, Seungmin pulled his limb out of you, making you feel for seconds incomplete and you saw his cock touch the bare skin of your pubis. You had finished, but from that angle his sex looked so swollen, wet, his tip looked so inviting and you noticed that he was still erect. Your whole body suddenly reignited, wanting the idea that deep down, one of the things you wanted was to see him come to orgasm, to see him unload his cum so messily and enticingly, to see him moan out such an act; so you sat up straight, he was enjoying watching your exhausted, heaving body satisfied that he put his agonizing arousal aside for a second, but suddenly you appeared in front of him, saying seductively breathlessly:

“Let me make you cum, please Mr. Kim, I can help you. I want your-you to cum.”

He almost released a chuckle. Your bright eyes wrapped in a light coat of happy tears, your sweet face begging for sex, your eager body wanting for more... you didn’t even have to suggest it. He was there, to possess you and use your young body just the way you were so eager for.

“Come here” he replied grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you down from the table. “What an interesting choice of words, miss Y/ln...”

Seungmin said in your ear, in quick seconds he had you pinned against the edge of the table as he turned your body and pressed his against yours, your ass felt his throbbing erection brush against your skin, your back felt his chest and finely the fabric of his open shirt, as his hands squeezed the back of your forearms.

“...for someone you should have respect for.”

His next move was something you would never have expected or seen coming. A hard spank on your ass, making you squeal with shock. You liked it.

“You use that little mouth to talk to your elders like that?”

Spank after spank, hard enough to leave your ass red and make you squeal with pain and excitement. Seungmin squeezed your buttocks, managing to maximize and perpetuate the burning and pain in your skin, as he bit his lip, then caressed your buttocks skin and kept spanking you. Unconsciously you let your back arch, resting your hands on the edge of the furniture and let yourself be hit and touched with the back of his fingers caressing your visible juicy labia, teasing you with his digits pushing and stirring your organ. It was the perfect excuse, Seungmin wanted to do with the pleasure of your body whatever, to explore every inch on that forbidden night, he wanted to fuck you for hours until he saw the light of day.

“But what can I expect if with that mouth you sucked your teacher’s cock with pleasure.”

His words worked magic, the undertone and his pitch full of pure sexual connotation raised your sex drive again. You moaned as soon as you felt his cock thrust into you again, sinking deep with ease as you were already so wet. Seungmin let out an exasperated whimper as he felt you, your throbbing pussy beginning to slowly create desire and arousal for your whole body. You arched your back more, your elbows and arms lying on the table clinging to the intensity of movements that awaited you and Seungmin began to ram into you hard, his cock already deep inside you stirring your insides and kissing your cervix. He saw the act of his pelvis and pubic area rubbing against your ass and bumping your body with agility, he caressed your bare back and licked his lips, suddenly thinking that he craved the closeness of your body, of your tired and quivering body on his, so he gently pulled on your hair for a few moments without missing his rhythm, you didn’t understand his signals, until he took hold of your shoulder and said:

“Come here, come closer, pretty one.”

He pulled your naked body close to his abruptly, you stood on tiptoe raising your ass without thinking and closed your eyes sighing at the feel of him so close, his pelvis squeezing your ass and his bare chest on your back, Seungmin pushed your hair aside, leaving the right side of your neck exposed and attractively positioning his face there, his right hand was firmly holding your neck loosely and the other played touching your breasts and abdomen, but he delighted and found himself by pressing the sweet spot of your clit while he kept penetrating you in a wild and exquisite pace. You gasped filling you with emotions and threw your head back closing your eyes in pleasure enjoying every violent movement in you, his hand working rapidly on your clit and labia, his wedding ring criminally dirty in your fluids, his cock penetrating you furiously. Suddenly between gasps everything became so primal, you could think of nothing else but the wonderful sexual world you were living in, both of you cursing in exasperation, creating an ephemeral, sickeningly intimate connection.

You began to tremble, to lose strength and feel strangely desperate, whimpering and rejoicing on the verge of climaxing again, Seungmin was so exact and precise, exquisitely fucking you until he blurred your vision; he as well as you, with his moans in your ear, the constant pounding of skins colliding and his cock quivering inside you, he was so close to his orgasm, both of you could feel each other at such intense and genuine levels. You turned your face to catch a glimpse of his pleasurable, agonized expression as he whimpered your name followed by the comforting, warm sensation of his semen completely filling your entire vaginal cavity. Holding on to his arms touching your body, you cum intensely as well, collapsing breathlessly with his body pressed to yours. As he cummed in you, Seungmin smoothed his movements, until he pulled out of you, drained and leaving a pornographically falling mess staining his perfectly clean floor.

And there was the most perfect heinous and sinful act, your naked body, panting and flushed in sex with your pussy quivering spilling his glistening white semen. Seungmin tried to catch his breath with his face wrapped in sorrow and satisfaction, hidden in your neck. Whatever happened... you had a wonderful time, you had never had such a mind-boggling, frenetic and beautiful sexual experience as you had now. So intimate, long lasting and intense. You relaxed your feet and still agitated you turned your body to see the handsome face of your favorite teacher, his red cheeks and shiny hairline wanting to sweat, you smiled, genuinely happy, so glad that things had turned out this way, that you both had wanted each other so badly, that you could finally have the man of your dreams that you had been pining for so long; you were going to be the one to approach him, but Seungmin stepped forward, placing his warm right hand on your blushing cheek gently, saying softly,

“My sweet Y/n... That was beautiful.”

You enjoyed his fine touch, looking into his eyes and from an impulse, almost childish and pure, like that of an innocent girl rushing at her first love, you took a quick step towards him and caught his lips, he joined his body to yours, pushing you with his left hand and letting it rest on your lower back, while the other was still touching your face. You rose up on tiptoe and wrapped your arms around his neck, stroking his hair and gently pushing the back of his neck, at first it was messy, desperate and passionate involving the bold touch and sound of your tongues colliding, revealing your first intentions with each other; but the more time passed, the rhythm softened, ending in a long, sweet and intimate kiss, colliding your agitated heartbeats.

When you separated, breathless, vibrant with emotion and with your heart fluttering, but in a purer and sweeter way, you looked at each other for a few seconds and did not hesitate to lean your head on his shoulder, still embracing him, with your tired face close to his neck. You closed your eyes and you couldn’t say anything else, because you couldn’t find the right words to say after living an unique experience for you. You took a deep breath and let yourself be hypnotized by the closeness of his body. However, within seconds you heard him say:

“Oh... the light went out, already” he mentioned more calmly.

Both of you were slowly regulating your breathing still. Seungmin hugged your body without thinking, the damage was already done, but at least it would be a little secret you both shared, he had no idea what would happen tomorrow, and he didn’t have the slightest interest to know, for the first time in his life, he didn’t have something under control or planned, as soon as he had you and was holding you, just a little bit more... he felt calm.

You opened your eyes in surprise and found nothing, other than your vision in pitch black, a somewhat shadowy darkness. You still felt Seungmin, but seeing absolutely nothing made you uneasy.

You gently turned away from him, still touching his hands.

“Are you afraid of the dark...?” you heard him say right in front of you, still in his place.

“Mmm, not as such, but not seeing anything and it being all dark does get a little scary.”

You heard Seungmin let out a giggle and let go of your grip, you guided yourself based on sounds, the sound of his belt buckle moving and clothes sliding on, you assumed he put his underwear and pants back on as you followed with an eerie fear, eyes wide open, listening to his breathing plus complete darkness in front of your eyes.

You were thankful that the electricity lasted throughout your slow, sizzling sex act.

Seungmin patted his counter blindly, having roughly the calculation of his own kitchen, he managed to touch the tea cups and then felt a cell phone being palmed.

“I think it’s your cell phone,” he commented, lighting up slightly as it turned on automatic and displayed your lock screen, he handed it to you, whispering, “You can turn on the flashlight... if you want.”

You scoffed, heeding him and noticing that indeed Seungmin was already in his pants. You didn’t shine a direct flashlight on his face, but just enough of an angle to see him.

“I have to go to the garage to get out a few flashlights and...”

“No need for that” you added subtly on impulse, “Seungmin,” you called his name for the first time, feeling even closer to him poetically, he remained still, facing you, his face slightly illuminated, “I’m tired... and it’s night, I can just go to sleep, though I’m a bit scared, can you stay with me?”

He smiled, letting out a light breath, it felt like lucid dreaming since he couldn’t see you and was only guided by your voice.

“You want that?” you nodded happily biting your lower lip even though you were sure he couldn't see you, “Sure, I have some lamps that don’t take up electric light in my room. You can get cleaned up and I’ll borrow something to sleep in. Take my hand. You’ll light the way, okay?”

You laughed softly, seeing his expression, raising his eyebrows followed by a gentle smile. You took his hand and amidst the complete darkness you both walked up the stairs until you reached the master bedroom. His room. Where he slept every night, you thought and... in a way, the one he always shared with his wife, yet you felt Seungmin’s manly and clean scent predominate in the room.

“I’ll turn on the lights” he warned you, letting go of your hand.

You lightened his figure, going to each side of his bed on the night stands, turning on two warm light lamps, one on each side. Then you saw him open the curtains of his large windows, letting in a little of the moonlight, moon almost full, romantically and subtly illuminating the room. It seemed to you for a moment... stupidly tender every little thing he did... and in a way, romantic. The tense darkness, the solitude and intimacy that surrounded you, the non-stop rain outside, the moonlight...

The lamps didn’t illuminate much, other than the area around the bed. Seungmin was standing in front of his window, his expression and body nervous and tense, despite having lost all reins with you a few moments ago downstairs. You put the flashlight of your phone right on him, he was somewhat far away from you and watched his tender countenance. You smiled, thinking how much you needed him again, not having him around felt like the real crime and sin. So, you turned off the light of your phone, leaving it on the nightstand near you and walked slowly and sensually towards him. Seungmin remained still, watching your naked figure emerge from the darkness and the dim light like some kind of a beautiful demon, or a deity of the night, ready to bless and curse him at the same time.

You stood in front of his already agitated body and trapped his neck between your arms, putting them over his shoulders and touching his hair. You leaned in for a kiss, under the moonlight and the violent rain lashing every part of the small town, a kiss, soft, slow, erotic and delicate, that turned into a series of hot and breathtaking actions. His hands took your waist and slowly went up and down caressing your body, something in you that night could not leave you alone, it was such a fatal attraction that you could not separate from each other, let alone get complete satisfaction from each other, you wanted more and more, reflecting it in your desperate kisses and excited bodies.

You started by sliding down his shoulders his already open shirt, caressing his skin in the process and Seungmin let the garment fall to the floor. Without detaching from each other, you both walked to your large bed, perfectly made, about to witness another disaster, another room in his home about to worship another disastrous and sizzling hot act of infidelity and carnal desire. Your legs collided with the edge of the bed, Seungmin’s passionate lips trailed down your neck as his hands explored and kneaded your body with desperation. Both of your sexes again braced themselves, quivering and moistening, impatient and hungry to have each other.

“Seung-Seungmin” you sighed, before you fell surrendered to his bed or lay down on it, you caught his attention by saying, “Get undressed too, please.”

Seungmin smiled, parted from your skin and quickly complied with your orders, pulling down his pants and underwear quickly and stripping them off; he returned to you, laying you gently on the bed, kissing your body again. You moaned, at the sensation of his genitals colliding and rubbing as he made you his with his lips on your body.

“You couldn’t wait, huh? I was going to take my clothes off anyway, princess” he growled into your skin, his breath burning into you.

You wanted it to happen again. His throbbing, big sex piercing you unprotected, his raw texture between your walls, controlling your body, being under the effects of him, being intimately under his body... but the thought of having him, under you, made your pussy throbbingly restless, which made you moan softly:

“Let me-let me be on top.”

Seungmin seemed to ignore your request for sizzling seconds and continued with his lips tasting your breasts, abdomen, and when he reached your pussy, you moaned half-heartedly as you felt his breath, you clung to his sheets and he kissed the inside of your thighs, making you believe he had every intention of servicing you down there again, but he stopped. He leaned his body in and saw your aroused body illuminated in the dim warm light.

“Do you want to ride me, little girl? Is that it?”

You nodded and followed his lead as soon as you saw him settle into his own bed. You approached him desperately, crawling a few steps to his naked body waiting to be attended to. His cock was so inciting, waiting for you, every fiber of Seungmin’s body crying out for you. You positioned yourself finally, your thighs to the side of his, grasped the base of his rigid penis and bit your lip as you teased his soft glans at your entrance, until finally letting yourself fall on his cock, taking it all in completely, crushing his testicles and subtly painting them in your wetness.

“Ohh, yesss, baby, that’s it, so fucking good for me fuck, I love filling you all the way up” Seungmin whimpered, your walls exquisitely squeezing his cock.

You hugged his neck, squealed and started to move to your rhythm, enjoying his length in you. Seungmin delivered short, loud spanks on your ass, squeezed it with desire and massaged your body, your waist, your breasts, each sex act with you surpassing the last, he was in fucking heaven and hell, gleefully rejoicing in your pussy kissing his testicles each time you agonizingly slid your cunt deep into him, reveling in the sensation of your pussy devouring his cock, but mostly of your yielding, young body on his.

This time you were in complete control of him and your pleasure, you chose what movement and rhythm to do while his little comments encouraging you and his moans hardened your nipples and made your ears red, it felt so good to have him under you, filling you up.

You rode Seungmin not looking for perfection in the strokes, but an inevitable pleasure for both of you, driving him crazy, your squats were imperfectly perfect and that had him wild, you were young, seizing and learning to take the cock of his lonely, excited self. Seungmin raved at your tits bouncing up and down on his face, taking them between his mouth and tasting your nipples, taking you to the limit; when he felt you were struggling leaping on his cock and out of breath he would support you by grabbing your waist, helping you bounce exquisitely on his sex.

Your vision began to blur. You were so close. The sex was being delicious, you grunted every time your clit rubbed finely against his skin and your chests collided; you kissed Seungmin passionately one last time, before collapsing completely. He was so close too, he took advantage of your body and moved it with slight abruptness, his length in and out quickly; you hugged yourself tighter to him, hiding your red face on the side of his neck and whimpering in his ear, you felt his cock throbbing inside you shortly followed by a hot shot filling your pussy, Seungmin hugged your body tightly, whimpering and staying still shuddering in his intense orgasm. His cum began to slide down his length, you continued, sloppy but strong movements over his cock, your pussy consuming and sinking into him until you shivered in your climax, falling surrendered and joined your heaving, tense torsos together. You remained in each other’s embrace for a moment, the golden light kissing your exhausted bodies yielding in pleasure.

Seungmin slowly lay back, letting his body and head fall back on his pillow, your body fell back on top of him and he began to caress your spine still with his warm cock inside you.

You were so tired, what you remembered was him coming out of you, both of you going to the bathroom to wash up after such unbridled and passionate acts. Seungmin put on new underwear, sleeping shorts and a white t-shirt, you hoped to sleep next to his warm and naked body, feeling his skin, but you said nothing, you agreed to sleep only in one of his t-shirts and, at least you slept in his arms that night, he hugged you while he tried to have a conversation with you... but you fell entranced in his scent, your eyelids heavy until they closed completely.

The next morning was the real hell.

It was the next day, the day that neither of you wanted to come, that neither of you wanted to face, you had to think about your actions. Your filthy, heinous deeds...

Seungmin woke up early, as common as his adult body was already used to. He woke up carefully, letting you sleep peacefully. He set himself the task of meticulously cleaning and disinfecting every part of his house, of removing every trace of the rampant, dirty, sinful sex that occurred the night before between a husband and his mistress, whose gasps, screams and bursting orgasms were silenced by the storm. He cleaned the kitchen island, the floor stained in droplets of his semen, he dry your clothes, folding them and putting them on the bed near you, he took a shower and waited for you to wake up... not late enough, as you only had two hours until his wife came home.

The only trace of sex that inhabited his house was you and the lustful ghosts of the night before. But Seungmin didn’t particularly want to get rid of you, his intense, passionate lover. There was something about you that he adored, beyond sex. He sat beside your body resting, sleeping peacefully and watched you tenderly, your face slightly puffy, your hair tousled and your cheek squashed into his pillow as you breathed deeply, he wished to live that every day, to have you always. He slowly leaned his body back, leaning on his elbow and watching you closely, thinking with a slight ache in his chest, that in the daylight you were even more beautiful, you shone brighter, that you deserved all that and not what he could scarcely and almost humiliatingly offer you—an affair, a forbidden romance, a fleeting love filled with passion and clandestine encounters, of hiding and living with a huge burden of guilt, of simply becoming the other woman, a full-time mistress.

You deserved to be treated with everything nice in the world, with delicacy, you deserved to be taken out on dates, to wear a beautiful dress and be taken out in the daylight without any fear of being seen, to be showered with flowers, gifts and sweet kisses. You deserved someone who would make loving love to you, not someone who just used your body. You were young, smart and sweet; you were everything he could dream of... but deep down he felt it should only remain a dream and a whim.

His life would go upside down if he ever chose you...

And between the anguish and his time of admiration for you, Seungmin lost track of time and fell asleep, sleeping next to you, his arm on the sheet that covered your body.

The morning light spilled through the rain-kissed window, painting the room in fragile gold and shades of blue. Seungmin lay beside you, his breath slow, his wedding band glinting like a quiet wound against the sheets. The storm had passed, but inside you, a tempest lingered—guilt, longing, the ghost of his touch still warm on your skin.

You breathed in his perfume and smelled the expensive scent of the sheets in which your half-naked body was wrapped. You lay there, dead ashamed. Like a whore wrapped in someone else’s sheets... you were satisfied, happy, guilty, a whirlwind of emotions with your tired body in sex.

You rose, careful not to wake him, and sat on the edge of the bed, thinking.

It had been a mistake, hadn’t it? A fleeting, fevered thing, born of thunder and hushed confessions.

But seeing Seungmin, didn’t make you feel guilty, but gave you a pang of feeling, of uncontrollable envy at wanting to be the real woman he woke up with that sight every day.

It was unfair.

Something in you was grateful that it was just sex, otherwise you would have fallen more in love and deluded than you were. He was a good man, interesting, you knew it, you loved him, but he wasn’t yours. It was just vulnerability that sparked that storm and a lot of luck. Maybe.

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @isabel-018 @paborachaslvt @tirena1

⚠️ I think this is the updated taglist :0 this fic is part of my kinktober section which is still incomplete, it’s been a while since I haven’t posted, so i completely understand if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, let me know any changes hehe :3 ty for understanding, sending love! <3 ⚠️

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kashverse · 20 hours ago

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I need a mamakuna chapter where shes teaching babykuna how to bake.

(very messy kitchen I imagine)

Love your writing.

some pre-valentine's day posts :)

valentine’s day in the sukuna household meant big ideas, big love, and big messes. and this year, babykuna had declared, very loudly and with an unnecessary amount of fist-shaking, that she was going to be a baker.

so, there you were. in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, damage control mode fully activated.

"okay, baby, we have to be careful with the—"

CRASH.

you turned just in time to see babykuna staring down at a bag of flour that had somehow exploded onto the counter, the white powder dusting her from head to toe like a ghost of poor life choices.

"...oops."

you inhaled through your nose. peace. patience. love.

mr. pickles, your chunky maine coon and professional problem-maker, sat on the counter, his massive tail flicking dangerously close to a bowl of frosting. he was very much interested in the sprinkles—so much so that his paw was already halfway into the container. "don’t even think about it." you pointed at him with a whisk. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered king, stared at you like you were an insignificant speck in his universe.

meanwhile, baby—the ever-curious orange tabby—was notably more productive. by which, of course, you meant he was kneading his paws in the cupcake dough like it was his life’s purpose.

"baby, NO."

you lunged. babykuna shrieked in laughter as you wrestled a very smug cat away from contaminating your baked goods.

but in the end, somehow, some way, the cupcakes were baked. were they slightly burnt? yes. was the kitchen a war zone? absolutely. but when sukuna walked through the door after his long day at work, looking like he was ready to kill the next person who even breathed in his direction, babykuna came sprinting up to him with a cupcake in hand, eyes wide and expectant.

"papa! happy balentine’s day!"

sukuna blinked. and then, before he could react, babykuna shoved the entire cupcake into his face.

"EUGH—"

you snorted so hard you nearly collapsed. mr. pickles let out a noise that was suspiciously close to a laugh. baby looked proud. and sukuna, his face absolutely covered in slightly burnt cupcake and a ridiculous amount of frosting, just stood there for a long moment. then, slowly, he licked some off his lips, chewing.

“…not bad.”

babykuna beamed. mission: successful.

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wuddshipp · 2 days ago

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"Good sirs, I'm called Trimp the Rover." "Marm, I'm called Ferdy an' that fat 'un's my brother Coggs, both of Redwall Abbey." Coggs snorted, pointing at Ferdy's ample stomach. "I ain't as fat as ole Ferdy, am I, miz Trimp?" She giggled. "You're as tubby as one another."

#wuddart #legend of luke #anthro #redwall #ferdy and coggs #trimp the rover #i forgot her ash stave #i knew i was forgetting something and then i was like naw i got it #yeesh #i'm very happy with how it turned out tho #love my boys #big fan of Trimp #i've said it before but i'll say it again i've always envisioned her in a yellow and orange dress #she's more viking inspired in dress bc she's from the north like Martin #i'm way better at drawing hedgehogs now #scroll down in this blog to see my first attempt at drawing her #it wasn't great

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beardedjoel · 3 days ago

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i cannot stress enough that prompt #15 on the first list is SOOOO smother coded, imagine on a hot summer night joel and blossom are up late and just yapping and looking up at the stars (blossom would def make a joke about how one of the constellations reminds her of joel) and then one thing after another he's fucking her raw and deep into the ground, when they're done blossom has grass stains on her dress or something (ALSO JULIE CONGRATS ON 5K YOU FUCKING DESERVE ILY)

thank you so much for sending this in and the kind words bby! beyond appreciate your patience from sending this in months ago 🤧 sorry for the delay! i had so so much fun writing this one though hehe because it really was very smother coded and it felt so natural for them. stargazing really does feel like something they'd do together often, especially after the way it goes for them here!

sea of stars — joel x f!reader

request: "stargazing that turns into sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! could be read as a standalone daddy joel if you really wanted to but it is rather smother-y and written with them in mind 😋

wc: 2.9k

warnings: dry (wet?) humping, piv, dirty talk, ddlg / daddy dom!joel + sub!reader

Sticky, thick air clings close to your skin, your hopes of beating the late night heat of summer by opening all the windows dashed as the house remains a stuffy, sweltering prison. You wished for air flow more than anything, a fan, and Joel promised he would do his best to find a working one for the two of you someday. You knew it was unlikely to ever materialize, but Joel would do his damndest to never give up on something that you’d so sweetly asked for.

“Can’t sleep, daddy,” you murmur, rubbing your burning, tired eyes and rolling over to face him. Despite the heat, your naked body gravitates towards him, your longing for him unable to be quelled by it and the layer of sweat that seems to permanently live on your skin. His arms find you, bringing you close, clammy limbs tangling together but neither of you caring, lethargic in your movements.

“I know, sweetheart. ‘M sorry,” he replies, stroking your hair soothingly. “It’s jus’ a heatwave, darlin’, these usually only last a few days. Should be out of it soon.”

You nod, still feeling pitiful, sighing and rolling onto your back as Joel’s arms retract, the both of you trying to cool off again. After a few silent beats, Joel sits up in bed, watching you blink listlessly at the ceiling.

“Alright, up. I’ve got an idea,” he says.

You clamber off the mattress half in a daze and he hands you a ball of thin fabric - your nightgown that had been discarded before you got in bed. Sheer and lovely and see through, you pull it over your head, the material thankfully feather light on your skin. Joel feels better knowing you’re covered up for what he has planned. It’s odd, how deep the possession runs, knowing that nobody else is within miles of this place, but still feeling that pull to keep you as only his to see. It didn’t hurt that you always looked almost too alluring in the clothing he picked out for you.

After tugging on a pair of briefs, Joel leads you outside, snatching a throw from the back of the couch as you pass. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you step past the threshold, the cooler air sweeter than anything as it caresses your skin.

“Few degrees makes all the difference, don’t it?” Joel says, and you quickly agree with a happy little hum. His hand on the small of your back, he guides you away from the cabin, stopping where a clearing of trees reveals the night sky to you, the moon only a tiny sliver shimmering in the distance, hardly providing any light. You strain your eyes slightly, comforted by the warmth radiating off of Joel reminding you he’s right there.

“Lay down,” he tells you, and you pause, wondering if he can see your face scrunched up in confusion as both of your eyes still adjust to the darkness. “Jus’ trust me,” he adds on at your hesitation, kissing the side of your head.

You lay down on your back, the cool grass beneath you making you smile as goosebumps briefly prickle your skin. You’d started to lose hope that it was possible to find relief in heat like this. Folding your hands over your stomach, you see Joel kneeling down next to you, hear him groan quietly as his knees crack on the way.

“Now tell me what you see, honey,” Joel says, settling next to you.

The obvious answer is right above you, twinkling dots littering the black sky. Their serene beauty transfixes you as you simply mutter, “Stars.”

“Mhm,” Joel confirms, propped up on his elbow to face you. “Pretty, ain’t they?” His fingers tease along your scalp, brushing backwards in rhythmic, soothing strokes. Lulled by his touch, you simply nod, letting the sea of stars swim in front of your eyes.

“You know any constellations?” he asks, laying onto his back to gaze at the sky with you.

“Mm, not really. Can you teach me?”

“Don’t know very many myself.” He pauses, scanning the sky for a few quiet moments. “Well I know that one there. ‘S the big dipper, but everyone knows it. Y’see the handle? An’ the big spoon part too?”

Joel’s hand envelops yours, guiding it to point towards the constellation. You squint, focusing your eyes to try and see it, but shake your head, making a contemplative little noise. “Kind of,” you say, twisting your lips to the side. “Wait… yeah, I see it, daddy! Right there…” You move your hand with his in a line, showing that you see the handle.

“You got it, princess.”

Both of your hands fall to the side, staying interlinked as you quietly observe the beauty floating above you, suspended in the clear sky. You’ve completely forgotten about the heat, the restlessness that had plagued you these last few hours. The air stays cool enough to take the edge off, your skin finally free from that grimy layer of sweat it seemed to carry at all hours during this heat wave.

“What’s that one?” you ask, finger pointing high into the night sky.

“I- I don’t know if that is one, darlin’,” Joel replies amusedly, trying to follow your eyeline. “We’ll get you a book on it, maybe, you’ll be a pro in no time.”

You give a bright smile at his offer while trying to make out more shapes in the twinkling expanse above. “What about that one?” you ask impatiently, pointing again. “It kind of looks like a face, maybe. Maybe it’s you,” you turn your head, giving him a cheeky grin as you laugh.

“Silly girl,” Joel chides you with a chuckle, reaching over to pinch your cheek for the teasing. “You know that daddy doesn’t know everything, right? Despite what it may seem.”

You giggle quietly, shaking your head. “You do know everything, daddy. Isn’t that one of the rules?”

“Knowin’ best f’you and knowin’ everything are very different, blossom,” he says playfully. “An’ especially when it comes to this… constellation stuff, I ain’t ever thought to learn them before, really. Sometimes it’s nice to just… look at ‘em. Thas’ been my philosophy, at least.”

“It is nice…” you mutter dazedly, feeling lulled by the serenity of the sky, the quiet noises of the forest surrounding you, the rustle of a soft but gladly received breeze blowing by.

“Feelin’ better?” Joel asks, rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Mhm. Much better,” you reply, sounding more subdued. The heat had made it harder to keep your composure throughout the last few days, leaving you on edge and worried you would inadvertently snap at Joel, resulting in a punishment. It had been a while since he’d had to dole one out, but the memories of them alone makes your body feel flush with need.

You did hate getting them, yet craved the heated attention from him that came with it. You curl a little closer to him at the thought, rubbing your thighs together.

“I can cuddle you again, daddy,” you tell him, making Joel’s chest vibrate with a tiny chuckle.

“You didn’t want to cuddle your old man before?” You can practically hear the daring raise of his brows in his voice.

“Too hot,” you insist innocently, tucking your face near Joel’s armpit and poking him in the side. He makes a noise of agreement as he playfully swats you away. You’d noticed the same from him during this heatwave - the way his body wanted to gravitate towards yours as usual, but even your insatiable Joel had found it too stiflingly hot to give you what you both desired as often as normal.

Now, however…

His energy shifts, hand slithering down your back, making goosebumps crop up as you shiver. Even less than a few days without his touch has your nerves frazzled the second his hands are on you again, greedily making their way down to your ass, squeezing hard at the plush skin there.

A needy growl pulls up from Joel’s throat, leaning forward to press his lips to your ear, wrapping them around your ear lobe and suckling. Another wave of goosebumps trails over your entire body, a helpless cry whimpered out.

“Ain’t had enough of you these last few days…” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, raspy and heated. Your breath catches and you clench between your legs, your core moving towards his without thought, throwing a leg over his. His hand tightens on your ass, yanking you closer until you can feel the hard shape of his cock press into you. The thin fabric of both of your clothing does little to hinder either of you, and you start rolling your hips against him, whining.

“Poor baby is needy without her daddy filling her up constantly, isn’t she?” Joel taunts, his other arm slipping underneath you to grab your other ass cheek, now starting a steady, faster rhythm against him.

“Daddy…” you manage to whine breathlessly, your mind only focused on the feeling between the two of you, brain going fuzzy with need. He seems to grow harder, his cock desperate to break the confines of his clothing, to wear down the fabric of your dress with the way he’s moving you in earnest now. You gush between your legs, built up tension from the last few days that hadn’t been sated well enough coming back in full force.

The fabric of your dress pressed further between your legs starts to grow damp, catching on your poor clit and sending little waves of pleasure buzzing through you. You moan quietly, only forlorn little breaths that Joel eats up, fueling him to keep forcing you to rut into him.

“I w-want -” you try to speak, but the bulge in Joel’s briefs reaches deeper between your thighs, your entire body twitching.

His lips find your earlobe again, biting gently before turning to your neck and nibbling there. “What does my blossom need, hm? Use your words…”

You whine in response, thrusting inward at the same time Joel urges your hips forward, moaning louder. You pant, angling yourself to get off even easier on him, feeling an obscene amount of moisture seeping onto your dress, soft squelches filling the air as it leaks onto Joel’s briefs, too.

“Christ, baby, my little girl is a needy fuckin’ thing isn’t she,” Joel punches out in disbelief, losing control, his hips twitching harder into yours, chasing his pleasure.

“I-Inside…” you manage to choke out.

Joel tsks. “Not ‘till you give me one,” he demands. You immediately double down on the rocking of your hips, letting yourself get lost in it until your body is burning, so close to reaching that bliss. His cock leaks for you, adding to the wetness sticking to the clothing between you, sweat forming on your brow and neck and everywhere else now, too.

The climax hits you in a hurried burst, leaving just as quickly, not the release you’d been hoping for. You groan in frustration as you come down, clinging to Joel’s sweaty chest.

“Pl-please, daddy. I’ll do anything…” You beg him, your skin prickling and hot with frustration, the heat slowly making you irritable again.

“Anythin’? Ain’t no different from any other day, princess.” He teases, mocking you with that drip of condescension he does so well. It only riles you up further, and you move to untangle yourself from him to move into the position you know will give you the relief you need from him. Before you can get on your hands and knees, Joel grabs you by the waist, pulling you into where he still lays, your body fumbling into his solid chest as it clunks back to the ground. His lips press to your ear, your body tight to his as one arm holds you by the torso, the other near your neck. “Nuh-uh. You know you don’t get to decide how I take you. That ain’t how this works,” he grits out, ruthless.

Whimpering, that odd mixture of excitement and fear coursing through your veins, you smirk, struggling slightly in his hold to egg him on, your ass wriggling into his crotch. Joel clocks it immediately, moving to reach between you and tug down his briefs and tear your dress off where it already barely covers your ass.

“Gonna make me crazy, bein’ a little brat like that, baby. We both know that ain’t you. She’s a good girl. Right?” He presses his cock between your thighs, forcing it through to your entrance, teasing you when you remain silent. “Right?! Say it, sweetheart. Tell daddy you aren’t a brat.”

“I-I’m not…” Just the tip of his cock presses inward and you grit your teeth, holding back the pathetic, desperate begging you really want to spit out. “I’m not a brat, daddy, I promise. I just -”

“You need daddy’s cock, I know.” He interrupts you with a press inward of his hips at his words, sinking the thick length of himself inside of you. You squeal, the noise turning to a moan of relief as he slides in easily, your slickness already coating everything, including the way it’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“What are you then, if you ain’t a brat?” Joel sits perfectly still, his well practiced restraint palpable between the two of you. You want him to move, you need him to move, to fill that void you’d been missing for the last few days.

“I’m a g-good girl. I am… I am… I-I’m good, see?” You keep perfectly still with Joel for a long beat, letting him make the final call on whether or not you’ve been good enough. One of your hands grasps tightly into the grass to pour out your pent up frustration, nails digging into the earth.

Joel cranes his neck to kiss the side of your head. “That’s right. Thank you, blossom. Good girls get a reward from their daddy, too.”

You nod eagerly, and in a flash Joel’s body is on top of yours, forcing his cock to plunge deeper inside of you as you lay belly down. He yanks on your hips, bringing them upwards and begins to thrust steadily and surely into you. Your g-spot immediately feels the change in angle as he starts to press on it, your pussy pulsing around him, still sensitive from the last climax.

“Y-yes, yes…” you groan out, the top half of your torso still pressed into the ground going deeper into the grass with each bounce of your body on Joel’s thrusts. He smacks your ass and you yelp happily, heat radiating from there into pleasure at your core when he does it again.

“S-shit… baby, come for me. Want to hear you, want to feel you. Daddy a-ain’t gonna last…”

Something about his desperation pulls your insides taut, makes you clench harder around him. His hand reaches to your clit, rubbing urgently as he pounds into you. “Come, f-fuck, come, blossom. Now.”

His command, always your bidding, follows that same pattern now, sending you toppling over the edge. You come hard, your legs trembling, sinking lower to the ground so that you’re almost flat, your knees unable to hold you up. The pure abyss of pleasure rocks through you for those few, perfect moments as Joel pants above you as he pistons his hips faster. He suddenly yanks himself out of you, leaving you empty and trembling. You hear the squelch of your slickness in his hand, pumping his cock a few times before the hot splattering of his cum hits your back, soaking through your dress.

Joel sighs, collapsing next to you on his back, tucking himself back inside his briefs. “S-sorry, baby. I needed that too, I guess,” he says, sounding more sheepish than usual.

“I liked it,” you tease him, genuine in your words. You roll to your side, sitting up slightly and glancing down at your dress with a frown. Through the dark, your eyes more well adjusted now, you can see the stain smeared across the front of it. It isn’t the first time that grass stains have invaded your wardrobe from a passionate moment like this, but you like your dresses pristine for Joel, always worried about him getting it out for you. “My dress…” you lament.

Joel’s lips pull up into a smirk. “Afraid the back ain’t any better.”

You giggle, flustered and still shy after all this time at the thought of what you and Joel do together after the moment passes. “You made a mess this time, daddy.”

His lips find yours, pressing a deep kiss to them. “Can’t help that it looks good on you. You want to go change?”

“Too tired now. Want to sleep.” You shake your head, blinking at the night sky again, studying the stars with heavier lids now. The cooler outside air, despite your recent activities making you sweat all over again, starts to dry it quickly, leaving you pleasantly comfortable and sated. Joel’s plan seemed to work wonders, this setup much better than it had been trying to fight for sleep inside the stuffy house. Your limbs feel lazy and heavy, body still humming from your climax, every part of you comforted when Joel moves to hold you.

He smiles softly, placated to see you so at ease now. Joel reaches for the throw blanket, unraveling it and setting it at the ready for when you inevitably start to get chilly in your sleep.

“You sleep then, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”

#julie's 5k celebration #julie's 5k celebration fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader #fic: smother

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theminecraftbee · 3 days ago

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"You let me think you were dead, you know."

Jimmy winces, but he doesn't turn around to look at Grian, or Cuteguy, or whatever he's going by right now. He considers just walking away. He considers a lot of things, but he doesn't expect he'll be able to, because--

"Don't walk away from me, Jimmy."

When Jimmy turns around, Grian's only half-dressed as Cuteguy, wearing no goggles, the paints he uses to disguise his wings slowly bleeding out, streaks of bold pink and black dripping down otherwise dull brown patterns. Jimmy takes a moment to stare. He's not quite sure which name he's supposed to be calling the man in front of him. On the one hand, he's not wearing the goggles, his dark eyes fully visible to the world. On the other hand, he's still wearing most of the clothes, and there's escrima sticks still hanging from his belt, and while the paint is fading it's still right there, hiding the patterns that make the wings identifiable as Grian.

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. "I did," he says, finally.

"You let me think you were shot in the head in front of me," Cuteguy says.

"That, uh, did happen," Jimmy says. Cuteguy gestures at Jimmy. Jimmy swallows. "Look, uh, it's not like it was super fun for me to wake up in the morgue either."

"You could have said something!" Cuteguy says. "You could have--you could have just, just rung me up and, and said--"

"Sorry man, it turns out that you getting me killed got undone?" Jimmy says, equally quietly, and Grian reels back in the same way that Jimmy imagines he must have when he was shot, too.

"Timmy," Grian says.

"I mean, I don't actually really blame you that much at this point," Jimmy says. "I don't really--it's not exactly your fault someone else shot us. I'm--I mean, I'm not happy with--you call him Forgery. Not so happy he didn't know that--yeah. But it's still a little... I did die, you know."

"You should have said something," Cuteguy says.

"I'm still kinda dead," Jimmy says.

"Timmy, I--I thought you were dead. I thought I wasn't ever--I'm sorry," Grian says.

"Oh," Jimmy says, because he's not sure what else to say. He both did and didn't expect an apology. It is, after all, Grian; it is, after all, Grian.

"I'm sorry, I'm--I was just, just yelling at you again because I was scared, because, because you're one of my best friends, and, and you were dead, Timmy. You were dead."

Jimmy's not sure what to say, or which of the person in front of him said that. He's fairly certain it's Grian. He's also fairly certain the world is grey and blurry again, and he has to take deep breaths, digging his fingers into his palms and trying very hard to remember that it's not really Cuteguy's fault, or even really Forgery's; until then, neither of them had understood how dangerous it was, either.

But it's not them that faced the consequences, is it?

Joel says it's fair to be angry. It's fair to blame them. Jimmy doesn't know that it is.

"I was dead," agrees Jimmy.

"Not going to say anything else?" Grian asks.

"No," Jimmy says.

Grian stares, and then it is most certainly Cuteguy who pulls himself together, shakes his wings until his feathers are straighter, and puts on a face that betrays nothing of the heartbreak or confusion or hurt he's feeling. Jimmy does, absolutely, hate it.

"Actually, I just wish... I don't know, man. Never mind," Jimmy says.

(He hates the way he doesn't recognize his own best friend some days nearly as much as he hates the way he doesn't recognize himself.)

Cuteguy stares for a long moment.

"Yeah, me too," he says. "Do... do you wanna come get sushi at that one weird place you like? Where you have the weird rivalry with that one server?"

"He insists salmon is the best sushi fish, and is absolutely wrong," Jimmy says primly, and then he nods, and even Cuteguy can't help but betray his relief.

They walk side-by-side, together. It doesn't really matter who they are now.

#hotguy comics zine #hgcz #a bee fic #grian #jimmy solidarity #for Undisclosed Reasons i've been having hgcz jimmy thoughts so here #a conversation i imagine they must have at some point after the finale. you know. given everything.

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dalishbarmitzvah · 3 days ago

Text

(moving right on past the obvious and very bleak "lots of people will flat out never be persuaded to care about jews and the best you can hope for is that they are not actively happy about jewish suffering"...)

to sum up what follows (mostly, honestly, me wandering through my own work to understand), tldr:

people genuinely do not know. they do not seek out our stories, are not given them by sources they , being truly informed about current events is very complicated, and most people have poor critical reading skills, have not learned how to consume varied sources, and do not know how to synthesise from varied sources before coming to conclusions or forming strong opinions, nor do they feel that is a requirement

the 24 hour news cycle, digital news outlets, and social media have created a media news climate in which people are more likely to believe they know things than they are to actually be informed on things, and is more likely to both create and maintain echo chambers (now filled with people who believe that it would be impossible for them to be in an echo chamber)

goys are generally not incentivized to do the work to seek out or stay up to date on things involving jews, israel, or antisemitism, and are less likely to encounter them, less likely to engage with them deeply or deliberately or often, and are less likely to be able to recognize propaganda, falsehoods, stereotypes, and fearmongering present in any reporting they do encounter.

centrist news outlets are doing the world a major disservice by being largely silent about jewish issues or israel beyond the most bombastic headlines, and neither right-wing nor leftist outlets are picking up the slack in any honest way, as both peddle very narrow, very biased perspectives when and if they bother sharing them at all.

in regard to mainstream journalism at large: they are failing to do their actual jobs (thourough, nuanced, non-biased news coverage) largely because of the broken way that people get their news (see #2) and the ways in which that has deincentivized journalism from coverage of anything less likely to get clicks and views. people don't click on stuff they think is too confusing, not relevant to their lives, too boring, etc. 24 hour news becoming the norm means doing away with the kind of informed person who would read their daily or weekly paper(s) cover to cover (or at least all the actual news parts). that same person, faced with an endless barrage of articles to click on, can never finish reading, and is, therefore, less likely to start reading things that challenge them or their perspective than they might have been if they had encountered them in print. for the increasingly rare news-reading goy, this means less clicks on articles related to jewish or israeli issues, which in turn means that the sites they're clicking on are less likely to pay anyone to write those articles

many people get their news almost exclusively from their social media feeds, which are curated to show them more of what they've already engaged with, and less of anything else. video content condensing articles skimmed from sources trouble by everything i already mentioned is in no way a balanced news diet, but for a lot of people, that is all they get - alongside a chillingly common pressure to form and hold strong stances on basically every single issue you can possibly imagine, with negative social consequences for admitting you don't know or don't have an opinion on something.

in this context: people facing a constant barrage of overexposure to news and perspectives from all over the world are lead to believe that everything that is happening is something they're aware of, and, as a logical inverse, that if they haven't seen anything about something, that it may as well not exist, not be happening, and not be real. (again, see #2).

compassion fatigue. just like we can't know about everything, we also cannot care about everything. and, let's face it: not caring about jews comes very naturally to most goys. this is the part where i say that i understand your outrage, but on a very real, practical level, you must understand that we are a minority many people know next to nothing about (though they often think they know about us, which is another problem), and that goyim who do not share their lives or communities directly with jews who remind them of their jewishness fairly regularly are unlikely to be very aware of us or what we're facing.

so this is the one thing you can do something about: you can be unavoidably jewish in the lives of non-jews, and it will remind them that jews exist, that we are real and complex beings who are worthy of attention and love. you can discuss these issues, publicly or personally, and it will prompt them to learn more, and to see more in places they may not have seen it before otherwise. you can remain steadfast and informed, and you can share what you know, believe, and feel, with people who would otherwise never have a glimpse of it. you can succeed where major news outlets are failing: you can be the reason why at least a few people do know and do care. it will take patience, it will take work. it will not be easy, or painless, or short... but it will also not be thankless. be jewish. live jewishly. share your jewish perspective with people you are in community with. show them that you have it to offer, and encourage them to seek it. this, too, is tikkun olam.

aaand under the cut is the Long, Somewhat Meandering Version that i came back around and synthesized down into that still-too-long-still-didn't-read up there. in other words, that up there is the Post, and what follows is rough draft. it's worth keeping there enough for me, for my own notes, but it's a lot of words and they're not all in the best order, so.

OK. SO.

first off, it would probably help if sources that aren't israeli or jewish reported any of it. it's become very obvious to me that very few people, for reasons both more and less valid, trust israeli news sources, or seek them out. even people who read multiple american newspapers to get perspective on issues don't bother with reading outlets that are actually involved in events discussed directly. maybe if some more western journos would sprout some fucking integrity for once and source back or platform voices on the ground there, it would help a bit.

i mean, sure, plenty of people will never give a shit, either because they've got deep-seated antisemitic tendencies, or because they're just blindly apolitical (or, charitably, some perhaps because they're focused on their direct communities. i know some people really are that way, and honestly good for them). but i think, perhaps because jews are culturally raised to be critical readers who are deeply informed about the world around them, and trained from a very young age to see patterns and connections in things, that it doesn't occur to us that a lot of people are just profoundly not like that. as a result, it's easy to see antisemitism in places where it's actually genuine ignorance - and a lot of that is very difficult to combat.

it takes real, significant effort to seek out varied sources for your news, and it takes real, significant effort - not to mention learned, practiced skill! - to sift out a more holistic image of the truth by reading between the lines and seeing what is reported where and by whom and in what ways... and also what isn't. and what i keep seeing in my own critical news reading (which is far from fully comprehensive!) is that you have to go pretty far from the sources most people are most familiar with to see beyond a few very curated images of what's happening in israel, what's going on with the hostages, what's going on globally or domestically in america or in various places in europe with jews there, etc. we see the jewish story all the time, because we live it, and we look for it, and we know how to.

but the reality is that the average goy doesn't even know enough about jews, or israel, to know that not all jews are israeli or zionist, not all zionists believe the same things, not all israelis support everything the israeli government is doing all the time, and not all israelis are jewish. they frankly barely know what jews are, except that they are Other. so how could they possibly know enough to see patterns rippling throughout the entire world beyond in varied and nuanced and horrifying ways. they will never, ever see the patterns we see. they have not been trained to do so, and they are, by and large, not going to take the genuinely immense time and effort it takes to get to that point.

so, maybe they don't know because they

people only see what they see in the sources they do see (obviously) - and those sources are very, very narrow in what they report on. the only western sources that are talking about it are far right or so-"left"-we're-accidentally-reinventing-fascism-here-too type sources, and they paint the issue in the strokes that aids their preexisting perspective (which is never truly a human one for jews, nor for israelis). most people aren't going to be picking up the jerusalem post anytime soon, but they might read the new york times or the washington post or a local paper (or, more likely, watch cnn or msnbc. or fox. or whatever.). so they're only getting what those outlets report on - and they just really don't report much on the human details of things like this. so that's one thing that could be done - centrist sources could report more, could print journalism that's closer to the source more often. but people might skip those articles. i've read studies that indicate that's exactly what people do - that digital newspapers specifcally make it so much easier for people to simply never encounter or engage with stuff outside their bubble, because you choose what to click on, and you choose when to stop, and so few people read "the whole paper" anymore (or even could, considering how many things are just published scattershot, random articles dropping all throughout the day!) so it would help some if that reporting was better, but honestly, with the kind of shape that news media is in right now... that's far from straightforward.

but of course, that's only applicable to people who even consume primary news sources to begin with... and increasingly, i encounter more and more people who are willing to freely admit that they have opinions and thoughts and believe they know things about stuff they haven't even done the basic research or reading on. and frankly, i don't know how we deal with that! the news-opinions zeitgeist we're in right now is frankly weird as fuck: people are less educated, from less diverse sources, on average, while also feeling pressure to have strong opinions and thoughts that they cannot (and should not) possibly form on their own. the way so, so many people consume news increasingly from algorithmic social media streams has done immense damage - people intrinsically believe that shit they saw on tiktok is Reporting (there have been studies showing that people tend to view news/opinions coming from people they percieve as familiar to them as being more likely to be truthful, and that that translates to, y'know... people in your phone who absolutely you do not know in real life and should not be trusting that way!). carrying on from that: if they DON'T see something "reported on" within in their circle/on their feed, then that means it's not happening. not even just that they don't know about it, but literally that it's not real. because we all know everything about everything. all the time. it's right there. the algorithm feeds it to us constantly. people think that if something was happening, surely someone would have mentioned it to them by now. i don't think people are mostly aware of this, at all, either... and that makes it all the more insidious.

used to be, people knew that there was plenty they didn't know about, because they knew how hard it was to learn about things that happened far away.... but now, with anyone in the world* being able to hop on their smart phone and say 'hey i'm from the other side of the planet and here's what's happening here*' (*at least, allegedly)? i think people genuinely don't consider that things might be happening that they haven't heard about. we hear about everything, all the time. 24 hour news cycle. digital newspapers. tiktok influencers sharing bite-sized news stories distilled from articles you haven't read to know if they actually read them either, from sources you're not familiar enough with to discern how much trust to put in them. videos of people in the worst parts of war zones staring directly at you and begging you for help you cannot possibly give them. but most people don't see images of released hostages. they don't see headlines from israeli journalists - not the deep propaganda, and not the honest ones. they don't see images of israeli activists or protestors who are fighting alongside and for their palestinian neighbours. if they see anyone on the ground in the area at all, they see desperate begging, and they see hamas propaganda - and it never occurs to them that parts of this story are missing... because we all see everything all the time. if it were happening, if it were real, then we would know. surely, we would have seen it already.

it makes it all the more funny when you hear people spout off about how jews are controlling the media or israel is controlling america or whatever nonsense... like surely, if any of us, the israeli state included, actually were controlling any of that, they would make it a little bit harder for people to avoid ever knowing anything firsthand about any of it.

so what can we do?

we can help them see us, hear us, know us, and love us. not everyone, not the ones who refuse, not the ones who hate us and won't budge. but we can be present in our communities and visible to our colleages and friends.

people are not going to notice and not going to care about things they have no reason to notice or care about. they're not going to form a nuanced perspective on israeli politics or modern pogroms or whether or not ben shapiro has ever heard of pikuach nefesh or not. they're not going to understand what jews are and aren't, what we can be, what we have been, what's happening to us. they're not going to see news that isn't being reported where they get their news... unless they see YOU.

it can be maddening, to have such a tiny little impact, but also incredibly gratifying. i am one of the only visible jews in the small town where i live, and i am very visible, and i never, ever shut the fuck up about it. people who know me at all know that i am jewish, and by talking to me, i can help them understand, and learn, and pay attention, and be vigilant on our behalf. i have seen it work. i have heard people tell me that they started noticing antisemitism in news sources they used to read - and that they stopped trusting them because of it. i have had people ask me for where to look for more information on issues they had heard only whispers about and didn't trust their ability to google on their own (which i really, really appreciate). i have had people tell me how grateful they are to know me and to learn from me. without me, they would likely have either never been prompted to have those thoughts, or they would have never pursued them very far, because they would have lacked a trusted sounding board. i know, for a fact, that people on (mostly) all sides of the political spectrum around me have come closer to seeing jews, and to seeing jews as human, because of me.

i have helped leftists gain perspective on israel, showed them how to see through propaganda (israeli, hamas, and evangelical), how to notice antisemitic slogans and rhetoric, taught them about the realities of israeli mandatory service, shared about my mom's experience living on a kibbutz, taught them some of the history of zionism and of the state of israel. because of me, people i know are telling people i don't know that "from the river to the sea" derives from a sentiment of violent antisemitism, and because of me, people i know are aware that israeli activists and objectors who share their concerns about the israeli government exist and fight alongside their palestinian neighbours to make their country a better place, and they know that palestinians generally do not support hamas. and i have helped people more to the center and right learn more about all of that and more. i have taught people what judaism is, what it is to me, and what it is to people who are very different to me. i've taught them how someone can be secular, atheist, and still very much jewish. i've taught them about where those guys in funny hats fit into the continuum between the ba'al shem tov and me, how we are alike and how we are different - how we have been forced to change in different ways, to adapt. i've taught them about the history of zionist movements, about jewish anarchists and socialists, about pogroms, about talmud, about tu b'shvat. people who believed, before me, that eretz yisrael was an empty wasteland before the first zionist settlers arrived to bring it to life, and people who believed that it was a thriving arab community that faced a military invasion before the state of israel was established, both have a bit more perspective on a very complicated history, because of me. because i exist, because i will not touch money on shabbos, because i will not shut my mouth, because i wear my beard and my payos and i cover my head, because i am not ashamed of who i am, because i have taken the time to be educated and to unapologetically assist in the education of others, people in my small town in the pacific northwest know about israel as a real place, and jews as a real people - whether or not we live there, and in all our many, many complex and nuanced perspectives on it.

i don't mean to tokenize yourself or reduce yourself to being a public service. but i do mean to push back when you hear someone discussing an even they've clearly only heard on very limited perspective on. i do mean that people who know they have at least one jewish friend (or acquaintance/community member/coworker/whatever) are more likely to notice, more likely to think critically, when things involving jews, or involving israel, are brought up. and to be clear: if you do this, you have to get really good at not telling people they're wrong or stupid, because people will shut down if you do that. you have to learn how to show people that their perspective is lacking without just telling them that they're ignorant. no one wants to listen to someone who's just telling them that they're a dumber, worse version of themselves than they realised. get really comfortable with asking people where they learned something or what they've been taught in the past, and then with how to break down and reconstruct from there, if necessary. honestly, once people feel safe to not know things around you, it gets much easier for you both to simply fill in the gaps.

and i guess, what i mean is that every single day that a goy learns what tikkun olam is and what it means to jews, that that does a very real bit of the work of tikkun olam, because you have helped create a goy who knows something about jews, and what they know now is that our culture teaches us that the world is beautiful and it is broken and it is our sacred duty to help mend it.

so, to answer your question: that's what it takes. it takes remembering that the world is made up of so many little pieces, so many souls, so many fractured little shards that were once contained within spheres that once emanated from the same great oneness - and it takes reminding other individual little shards that they are also a part of the same thing as you, that you come from the same place they do... and that your paths to and from that great oneness are different, and none of them less beautiful than any other.

you can try and fail forever to mend the whole world in one day, and never make any real progress, and it will crush your soul into an even finer powder as you do.

there will always be some people do not care about us because they hate us, or at least, they believe that they do because they have been taught to, but i do not believe they will ever be the majority. most goyim do not care so much about us, simply because they haven't realised that they could love us, because they haven't gotten to know us, because they don't even know how much they would like to. if we are going to reach those goyim before the hateful ones do, we just have to keep at it.

and so long as we do not, in fact, control the media, i'd say we have a lot more chance of changing things, changing how and if people see us, by simply refusing to get out of their line of sight. it is much, much easier to hate or to hurt someone you can't see and don't know. stay where they can see us. become a welcome sight. teach them how to see what we see. the world is not illuminated by guarding of the flame, but rather by the kindling of others from it.

be light. share light. don't ever buy into the isolating darkness and its insistence that we are alone in a silent and unfeeling world, because we are not, and that only benefits those who would seek to destroy us. we are not alone, and we do not have to be alone. the universe is not doomed to a shattered eternity.

(and as for your grief and your anger? direct that at the people who benefit from all of us little people remaining ignorant of each other, remaining divided. goodness knows, there are certainly plenty of them. and i, for my own little part, do not intend to give them the satisfaction.)

Jewish hostages emerge from 16 months of underground captivity emaciated, broken and bewildered, looking for all the world like concentration camp survivors, and the world is silent.

Returned female hostages give graphic and horrifying accounts of sexual assault and torture, and the world is silent.

Antisemitic abuse and hate crime has skyrocketed, Jews are traumatised and terrified and in deep pain, that is celebrated and laughed at, and the world is silent.

THE WORLD IS SILENT.

WHAT WILL IT ACTUALLY TAKE FOR PEOPLE TO GIVE A SHIT??

I just don’t understand. I never will.

#genuinely i am sorry if this is a total hijacking. right post right time to get me Thinking and Feeling. anyway.#i understand your post was probably just venting and i do not intend to take that from you in any way

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harrywavycurly · 2 days ago

Text

Worth the Fight: It’s Just Cake

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, small-ish argument, pregnancy symptoms, one moment of slight jealousy and one tiny injury that sends Harry spiraling.

A/N: I spent a sold 36 hours debating on the outcome of this update and this just seemed to make the most sense so enjoy and sorry for any tears, hopefully they are happy ones?👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees

Summary: You see Harry three days in a row and you get a cake delivered ✨

“This one’s soft.” Harry just nods as he places a hand in on his hip while you give the pillow in front of you a good squeeze. “And very squishy.” You add and Harry doesn’t bother even responding because you’ve said the exact same thing about all the pregnancy pillows you’ve touched during the fifteen minutes the two of you have been in the store. So instead he just leans his back against the shelf and runs his hand through his hair while you move on to the next pillow that he’s sure will also be soft and squishy.

You look at the pillow in front of you and let out a sigh because you don’t really want one and you don’t think you need one right now but Harry swears your lack of support on your back and bump is why you’ve been having issues sleeping. Resulting in the two of you standing on the aisle that has all the pillows that help with sleep and breastfeeding in the boutique down the street from your work on your day off, the same one he saw you and Ethan in a few weeks ago. But instead of offering you his opinion on which pillow to get he’s been oddly quiet, keeping a safe distance from you and you wonder if he’s the one having issues sleeping due to his late nights with the girl Ethan told you he was seen with just last week.

“I read that one’s good.” You turn your head at the sound of his voice, it’s quiet and lower than normal as he points to the pillow currently in your hand. “Gives you back and belly support and it’s not massive like the others are and you already said it’s soft-”

“And squishy.”

“Yeah. So I say give that one a try and see how you like it? And if you hate it we return it and get another one.” He offers before he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

You just look back at the cream colored pillow in your hand and give it one more squeeze before deciding it’ll do and you’ll give it a try. When go to pull the pillow off the shelf you don’t even give it one tug before Harry’s ring clad hands are grabbing it for you and pulling it off the shelf in one quick movement. You can’t help but notice how effortlessly he tosses it into the cart you have next to you and you have to remind yourself it’s just a pillow not a heavy sack of potatoes when a small blush begins creeping onto your cheeks. You want to smack a hand over your face when you catch yourself staring at his arms that are being shown off by his tank top, something you’re extremely used to seeing him in since he normally stops by your apartment in the mornings after a run of before he’s due at the gym. But for some reason you feel like his black tank top and questionably short maroon running shorts are a bit more distracting today than usual.

“Did you hear me?” You jump slightly as Harry’s voice snaps you out of your daze making your eyes instantly connect with his instead of where they were just fixated on the muscles in his arm flexing as he grips the handle of the cart so he can push it for you.

“Sorry what-what did you say?” Harry looks at you with concern etched on his face as he gives you a quick once over. Your cheeks are red and your eyes have this glazed over appearance to them and you have a hand clutching at the pendant at the end of the chain you wear everyday while the other one is resting on your bump.

“Are you feeling okay?” He questions with a furrow in his brows as he notices the way you swallow thickly while briefly letting your eyes dart to his hand that’s wrapped around the handle of the cart.

“Uhm yes I’m totally fine why do you ask?” You ask as you do your best to appear as normal as possible, running a hand through your hair after you clear your throat and blink a few times before meeting his eyes once more so you can offer him a small smile. Acting as if he didn’t just catch you staring at his hand that has his signature initial rings snuggly tucked up against the knuckles of his pinky and ring finger.

“You just look a bit out of sorts that’s all.” He says making you let out a very forced laugh as you give him a shrug.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Harry raises a brow as you motion to his outfit causing him to look down to check himself out but when he doesn’t see anything out of place he looks back over at you just to find you’ve turned away from him and have begun walking down the aisle a few steps ahead of him.

“You’re sort of worrying-”

“I’m fine Harry really just got a bit of a hot flash that’s all.”

“A hot flash?” He doesn’t remember you telling him about hot flashes before so he feels a little confused as he pushes the cart a safe distance behind you so he doesn’t accidentally hit your ankles when you suddenly stop to look at something.

“Yeah a hot flash. I’ve had a few randomly but-oh look at these.” You try your best to distract him from your flustered state with a pair of tiny newborn sized socks. You grab them off the shelf and hold them in your hand as you turn to face him. “Look how small they are.” You mumble as you look down at them and run your thumb over the soft material.

“Do they need socks right out of the womb?” Harry asks as out of pure curiosity since he’s only seen babies in socks when they out of the house or in posed photos on people’s social media accounts.

“I think so because it’s nice and warm in here.” You tell him as you place a hand on your bump while the other holds the tiny socks out to him so he can get a better look at them. “So you want to try to make them all warm and cozy once they are out.” Harry just nods as he looks at the tiny pair of socks that fit in the palm of his hand and when you take a glance at him you can’t help but smile as he takes a moment to try to imagine one of the twins being big enough to wear the socks while also being tiny enough to fit both their feet in his hand.

“How can something be so small but also big at the same time?” It’s a thought he doesn’t mean to voice out loud but then again he doesn’t mind letting you hear his inner thoughts because you just take a step towards him so you can look at his hand that looks even larger than it normally does as it easily fits both socks in it.

“Considering right now they are only the size of bananas everything kinda seems big.” You begin to explain while Harry just stares at the socks. “But then when they actually get to wear the socks their feet will look so tiny in them.”

“Bananas? So you’re about-”

“Twenty weeks.”

“Which means we can-”

“Yup.” You finish for him since you already know what he’s going to ask. Harry stares at you as your hands fall to your bump while you rub your lips together as the two of you silently take a moment to sit with the knowledge that at your appointment with Dr. Andrews tomorrow you’ll be able to find out the genders of the babies you’re carrying.

“So did you-”

“Are you seeing someone?” Harry feels his body go stiff at your question that you all but shout at him as you begin to rub your bump, something you tend to do when trying to calm yourself down. You watch as the pair of socks fall out of Harry’s hand as he blinks at you a few times while opening and shutting his mouth as if he doesn’t know what to say and his mind and body are at odds with one another making him look like he’s struggling to make sense of what’s happening around him.

“I uhm don’t-what what exactly do you-uh I’m not no-no no I’m uhm not see-seeing anyone.” The way he fumbles through his answer makes you raise an eyebrow at him while he quickly bends down to pick up the dropped pair of socks so he can just toss them into the cart and worry about if you actually wanted to buy them later at the checkout since he’ll already have to argue with you about letting him pay for everything anyway.

“So the girl you were seen with in the green dress isn’t anyone?” You have no clue why you’re asking him these questions in the middle of a baby boutique but you’ve spent the past few nights wondering about it so you figure you might as well get it over with and see what he has to say for himself.

You continue to rub soothing circles over your bump as Harry stands there trying to figure out who exactly you’re referring to because his mind has all of a sudden become void of anyone he’s hung out with recently that wasn’t you or his mother. But when for the life of him he can’t recall anyone wearing a green dress he just lifts a shoulder up in a casual shrug and shakes his head.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about?” You let out a sigh as you roll your eyes, not at all shocked his memory is messing with him because that seems to happen anytime he meets a girl and has a decent time with them on a night out.

“Figures you can’t remember the girl you walked out of a club with the night you told me you had plans with your mom and that’s why you couldn’t come help me hang the curtains in the nursery.” Harry grips the handle of the cart with both hands as if it’s the only thing capable of keeping him steady as he’s hit the with memory of the night you’re referring to. “Must’ve been quite a night then.” It’s the casual tone of your voice that has Harry worried because it doesn’t at all match the look you’re giving him.

You’re eyes are slightly narrowed in a glare but there’s something hidden behind the glare that he can’t quite put a finger on, but he has a feeling it’s something along the lines of hurt or jealousy but he doesn’t see why’d you be jealous so he leans more towards you being hurt over the fact you think he lied to you.

“I did have plans with my mom we had dinner together.” He explains as you look away from him and towards the pregnancy pillow sitting in the cart. “And that girl she’s just a friend who needed a ride home-”

“And she couldn’t call an uber? She had to call you?” You know you sound like an untrusting girlfriend but you just blame your hormones making you feel as if he’s still keeping something from you.

“I was just trying to be a good friend. She doesn’t know a lot of people here she’s from New York and-”

“It honestly doesn’t matter I just don’t like feeling like I’ve been lied to that’s all.” You state deciding you don’t really want to hear anything else about the girl in the green dress. Harry gives you a small nod when you finally look back up at him, he doesn’t know why the idea of you thinking he lied to you makes his heart drop a bit.

“I understand and I’m sorry.” He doesn’t really know what he’s apologizing for but it just seems like something he needs to do in the moment, and honestly it’s something he’s becoming an expert at doing considering how many times he’s said those exact words since meeting you. “I hope you know I’d never lie to you. I may be an asshole but I’m not a liar.” You playfully roll your eyes as you look at him with a quirked brow.

“You don’t lie? Harry you told me I looked good in black and red polka dots last week.”

“And you did? You looked like a lady bug with your black leggings and polka dotted cardigan.”

“I looked like a bug? Bugs aren’t cute.”

“Lady bugs are cute.” You try to ignore the way your heart flutters at his roundabout way of calling you cute so you just let out a chuckle before turning around and heading down the aisle. “Besides there’s a clear difference between lying and just telling you something so you don’t get your feelings hurt.”

“So you’re saying I didn’t look good you just didn’t want to make me upset?” Harry wishes Niall was here to give him a smack upside the head as you pause and look at him over your shoulder. He rushes to shake his head no and push the cart further down the aisle towards where you’re standing near the end of it.

“No of course you looked cute-I mean good you looked good.” You place a hand over your mouth to stop your laugh from being heard throughout the store while Harry just glares at you as he realizes the trap he just walked into. “You’re in a mood today Cranky. Let’s hurry up and get this pillow so you can go take a nap.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself but a nap isn’t going to fix it but you know what might?” Harry doesn’t even have to think before he’s answering your question.

“A green juice with no carrots and extra apples?” The smile you give him makes his insides feel all warm and he has to stop himself from laughing at how you’re already licking your lips at the thought of your current favorite juice recipe.

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask who uh told you about me being out the other night?” He asks as you turn to go down another aisle, he has a strong feeling he knows who gave you the information but he just wants to hear it from your lips.

“Ethan.” Your voice sounds like you’re distracted and when Harry looks up he sees why, you’re standing there wrapped up in a fuzzy robe that’s about two sizes too big for you with a grin on your face as you let out a sigh of content. “I’d be able to snuggle both of them at the same time in this.” Harry watches in amusement as you grab two stuffed animals off the shelf in front of you next to the hanging robes and act out what it would be like holding two babies at the same time cuddled in the robe.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Oh you’re just mad I don’t want to snuggle you in this thing.” You snap making Harry have to look away when your eyes meet his, his cheeks and the back of his neck getting hot as he struggles to keep a stupid smile off his face.

“Didn’t you just have a hot flash? Should you even be wearing that right now?” He asks with a hint of worry in his voice making you roll your eyes as you put the stuffed animals in the cart so you can shrug off the fuzzy robe.

“Next time someone tells me how fun you are I’m going to tell them to have a baby or two with you and they’ll really see just how fun you can be.”

“Forgive me for caring about your wellbeing.”

“I don’t think I can because I really liked that robe.” Your eyes are a little big and your bottom lip is poked out a bit as your head tilts to the side giving the robe one last look as you hang it back up. Harry just lets out an annoyed sigh as you make your way down the aisle, an obvious stomp in your steps making him roll his eyes at your dramatics.

“Yeah you need a nap.” Is all he says as he grabs the hanger with the robe on it and tosses it in the cart on his way down the aisle where you’ve stopped to look at a set of onesies.

You can feel the anticipation building in the room as you and Harry stare at the white envelope sitting on your kitchen table. Having picked you up for your appointment before work he also took it upon himself to walk you back to your apartment where you informed him Dr. Andrews had given you the results of the gender scan you had done during the appointment since at the time neither of you felt ready to know quite yet or more so you just didn’t feel like crying in front of your doctor, again. But suddenly the idea of knowing if you’re carrying two boys or two girls or maybe one of each feels like something you desperately need and want to know so you asked Harry to stay a bit before running off to do whatever it is he does during the day.

“Will you open it?” You ask as you still stare at the envelope with the name Styles written on it while rubbing your hands over the soft material of the t shirt that’s currently covering your bump.

“Me?”

“No Harry the ghost standing behind you.”

“But this is a big deal I’m-I’m not properly dressed for-”

“Properly dressed? Harry you’re not opening the envelope that tells someone they just won a Grammy.”

“Well yeah this is way more important.” He states as he runs a hand through his hair before he turns his attention to you and he almost jumps back a bit when he sees how intensely you’re already staring at him. You don’t give him time to ask if you’re okay before you’re turning and heading into your kitchen for your water bottle you accidentally left on the counter due to rushing down to meet Harry in the parking lot so he wouldn’t be able to tell you that you were going to make the two of you late for your appointment when he helped you get into his passenger seat.

“You’ve done gender reveals before so just act like this is one of the times a fan asked you to read it on stage or something.” Harry rolls his eyes as his hands land on his hips while turning to look at you as you take a sip of water.

“This is different than opening a fan’s envelope this one is for my- sorry our babies so it’s a bit more intense.” You let out a sigh as you place your water bottle back on the counter and if Harry wasn’t on the verge of an anxiety attack he’d probably take a moment to appreciate how adorable you look when you’re throwing a tiny fit about not getting your way.

It’s something he’s witnessed a few times during his morning juice visits, the long exasperated sighs that come with a hand on the hip and a glare to whatever view of his head you have at the time. But what really gets him is when you sometimes rub your bump and lean down so you can whisper to it things about how he’s being a big meanie or something equally as silly and untrue. He imagines this is something you’ve always done, throw tiny fits when things aren’t going your way or you feel out of control and he can only assume your pregnancy hormones are just exasperating those emotions making you have at least one tiny tantrum a day.

“Would you open it if you weren’t in jeans and a t shirt?” Harry’s glare answers your question. “I mean you’re the one who said you aren’t properly dressed so I’m just asking if you’d open it dressed in a Gucci suit or is it just you don’t want to open it?”

“I mean of course I want to open it but I’m-I’m nervous. And I don’t even know why? It’s just a bloody envelope.” He mumbles and you get it, you understand how he’s feeling because it’s exactly why you can’t bring yourself to open it.

“Maybe someone else should open it for us?” You suggest making Harry rub his lips together as his eyes dart back to the envelope that’s now just mocking him as it sits there unbothered and unopened on your table. “Oh what about your mom? She could open it for us!” Harry looks over at you as you take a few steps so you’re back to standing next to him, your eyes glued on the envelope.

“You’d be okay with her knowing before us?” He feels the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile when you just shrug and nod your head.

“Of course and she’ll probably figure out a way to tell us that’s super cute and not just some words stuffed inside an envelope.” He can’t argue with you about that since he knows that exactly what his mother will do. He watches you reach over and grab the envelope and hold it out for him. “So just give it to her and let her do the rest. Only if she wants to though don’t make her feel forced to do this Harry or I’ll be very upset.” Your voice lets him know you’re not kidding about not forcing his mom into anything and he just has to laugh at you trying to be threatening while twenty weeks pregnant.

“Trust me she’ll be thrilled to be the one to tell us.” He informs you making you feel a little better about the whole thing once he gently takes the envelope from you so he can carefully place it in his back pocket. “Do you need anything before I go?” You just shake your head with a smile before he begins to turn and head towards your front door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Harry pauses as he reaches your front door and slowly turns around and raises a brow while looking down at the floor as he tries to think of his plans for tomorrow.

“I can come over if you need me-”

“You still haven’t hung up the curtains in the their nursery.”

“Oh shit that’s right.” He feels his face get hot as he realizes how long it’s been since he told you he’d do that for you. “Then yeah I’ll uhm see you tomorrow.” You give him a smile as he turns back towards the door so he can reach for the doorknob.

“Have a good day.” You half shout over your shoulder as you turn to head down the hallway to your room so you can start getting ready for work. Harry quickly lets go of the doorknob and lets out a sigh as he looks over his shoulder, of course you forgot he can’t lock the door when he leaves because he doesn’t have a key.

“You have to come-” He stops talking when he hears you muttering what sounds like some sort of curse word from the hallway making him chuckle and shake his head as he waits for you to reappear.

“Lock the door.” You finish for him with a groan as you walk back into the living room towards the front door where Harry is standing with a playful smirk on his face. “Sorry one day I’ll remember.” You reassure him but it doesn’t do much as he just rolls his eyes before opening your door and stepping out into the hallway.

“Have a good day at work and let me know how the pillow works tonight because if you still hate it we can return it tomorrow.” You just nod as Harry stands in your hallway just outside your door, the place you thought he’d be staying the whole duration of your pregnancy but to your surprise, his knowledge of how to make green juice and actively trying to do better has earned him access to the inside of your apartment.

“Have a good day Harry.” You say with a smile that he returns before he watches you close your door, waiting a few moments to make sure he hears the locking sound before he turns to head towards the elevator.

“Nice to see you’ve been promoted from hallway dad to inside the apartment dad.” Harry instantly feels a strong bubbling of annoyance in the pit of his chest as Ethan steps out of his front door just as Harry walks by.

“What’s your problem?” Harry asks as he stops heading towards the end of the hall and turns around so he can face your neighbor who also happens to be one of your bestfriends.

“What’s my problem? I think the real question is what’s your problem Harry?”

“I don’t have one but you seem to have this weird thing with me that makes you unable to stop yourself from being an asshole.”

“I mean you’d know all about being an asshole wouldn’t you?” Harry wants to wipe the smug looking smirk off his face but he knows that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do because you’d hear it and come out and be upset and he also is very aware of who he is and can only image the issues he’d face if the press found out he hit someone in a random apartment complex’s hallway. So instead Harry goes for the jugular in a different way, one he knows will pack more of a punch than if he used his fists.

“You know Ethan for someone who claims to be such a good friend to her,” Harry motions towards your front door making Ethan quirk a brow at him as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You sure did cause some damage with the information you chose to share with her about me being seen with someone last week.” Ethan’s jaw clenches as he takes a step forward, his eyes set in a harsh glare aimed directly at Harry.

“You wanna know why I told her about you and the tacky green dress girl?” Harry ignores the comment about his friend’s dress and just shrugs as Ethan takes another step towards him, his hands now at his sides and his eyes still set in a glare. “Because she shouldn’t have to find out that sort of thing from a magazine cover or someone texting her the photos. I wanted her to find out from someone who cares about her who would be there to help her deal with the emotions that the knowledge of you going out and living your pretty boy pop star life while she feels unable to go out and do things because she’s pregnant would stir up.” Ethan’s voice is harsh as he stands right in front of Harry, staring right into his eyes.

“And guess what the only question is that she asked me after she told me some bullshit about how you’re allowed to be seen with whoever you want because you’re single.” Harry swallows as Ethan rolls his eyes when he talks about the excuse you gave him prior to asking him about the girl Harry was seen with.

“What did she ask you?” He has a feeling whatever Ethan is about to tell him is going to make him upset he just isn’t sure which type, anger or sadness.

“Was she pretty.” The harshness of Ethan’s voice is gone and Harry swears he almost sounds as if he’s holding back his emotions as he lets out a dark chuckle and shakes his head. “She wanted to know if the fucking girl you were seen with was pretty. What does that tell you Harry? Huh? What does that mean to you?”

“I don’t-I don’t know what it means.” There’s a thousand thoughts swirling around Harry’s head as Ethan looks at the floor and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down before looking at Harry again.

“Let me fill you in on something pretty boy.” Ethan reaches over and places a hand on top of Harry’s shoulder only making him slightly nervous. “Just because you can’t remember the night you met doesn’t mean she can’t. She remembers meeting someone she thought liked her enough to give her his number and a promise of a call the next day. She remembers that same person telling her how much he liked her and couldn’t wait to see her again. And she also remembers the feeling of being ghosted by that same fucking guy but as fate would have it she has to end up being the one to text him to tell him she’s pregnant and here’s the real kick in the ass Harry you’re going to love this part.” Harry knows for a fact he isn’t going to like the next part because he knows what’s coming, he knows exactly what Ethan is going to say and he feels his heart drop to his feet.

“She remembers the feeling of him telling her he doesn’t remember meeting her. The guy she thought was so amazing and everything she’s looking for in someone she’d like to be with doesn’t fucking remember meeting her. So now she’s stuck feeling all these weird emotions because she really liked you Harry like really liked you and now you’re her baby daddy who sometimes is an asshole and is sometimes a nice guy that just doesn’t remember anything about her.” Ethan ends his rant with a not so soft pat to Harry’s shoulder before he takes a step to the side so he can go around Harry and head to the elevator.

“So next time you think I’m the asshole who doesn’t care about her remember I’m the one who’s been here for her since she came home drunk and on cloud nine the night you two met.” He adds from a few steps behind Harry, who can’t seem to get his feet to work as he stays standing in the exact same spot. Ethan takes his silence as a sign that maybe Harry is doing some deep thinking into how he hasn’t really thought about how you must feel dealing with him during all of this, and that’s just what Ethan wants, he wants Harry to realize how deeply effected you are by not only his words but his actions as well.

“Fuck.” Harry says with a groan as he runs both hands through his hair giving it a slight tug as he closes his eyes and does his best to get ahold of himself. When he opens his eyes he runs a hand over his face and turns to head towards the stairwell, deciding he doesn’t want to risk having to share an extremely awkward elevator ride with Ethan down to the lobby.

The only thing keeping Harry together is the envelope securely tucked into his back pocket and the fact he’s on his way to see his mom who although she can be meddlesome always has an open ear to listen to his problems and offer whatever advice she can. And in this case he knows what she’s going to say because it’s what she’s been saying to him since she found out he’s been going to your house every other day, he likes you and needs to just acknowledge it and either act upon it or move on. But for some reason he just never thinks he’s ready for either option so Harry just keeps doing what he’s doing, helping you with whatever you’ll allow him to and visiting you in the mornings so he can make your juice and get caught up on how you’re feeling. As he walks towards his car once he makes it down to the lobby and into the parking lot something inside of him switches letting him know he can’t keep going on like this, he needs to sit and think about his feelings towards you because clearly he’s hurting you and that’s the last thing he wants to do since he’s promised himself he’s done being an asshole.

“That’s not level.”

“What? Yes it is I have a level in my hand and it’s saying it’s perfect.”

“Then the level is lying to you because that rod is very much not level.”

“It’s lying to me? Really?” You cross your arms over your chest as you stand next to one of the cribs while Harry takes a few steps back so he can look at the curtain rod he just finished hanging above the window. He furrows his brows as he bites down on his bottom lip while his hands rest on his hips as he realizes the rod is hanging down a bit lower on the left side. “It’s not level.” He states followed by an annoyed sigh as he steps up on the step stool so he can undo the left side.

“Tell me when it’s level then will you?” He asks over his shoulder making you just nod as you take a small step backwards. He raises the rod up a tiny bit and when you don’t say anything he raises it up just a bit more causing you to squint your eyes as you try your hardest to tell if it’s level or not.

“I think that’s good.”

“You think?”

“It’s perfect. Totally level.” You correct yourself making him let out a huff before he secures the rod to the wall. Harry is stepping down off the step stool when he hears it, the faint sound of you saying “ouch” followed by a painful type of hissing noise.

Before you can even register what’s happening you feel Harry’s hands on you, turning you around from where you’re leaning over one of the cribs to grab the curtains for him to place on the rod he just put up. His hands are soft but his hold on your arms is firm but not too firm that you feel like he’s squeezing you as his wide panic stricken eyes quickly roam all over your face before he steps back only enough so he can look for any obvious source of pain or an injury of any kind. Once you realize what’s happening you decide to end his search and hold out your hand that has a few very small cuts on the knuckles of your index and middle finger where they somehow got caught between the crib and the zipper of your zip up hoodie when bending over resulting in the zipper scratching up your knuckles the tiniest bit.

“Does this happen a lot?” You can tell by his voice that Harry is panicking as he takes your hand in both of his so he can examine the damage done to your knuckles.

“Does what happen a lot?”

“Getting hurt on things like cribs and zippers?” He asks with furrowed brows as he ever so gently runs a thumb over your knuckles, just above the scrapes so he can see if they need anything other than just a bandaid.

“I mean I’m a little clumsy sometimes but no-”

“Clumsy? As in you fall a lot and run into things?”

“First off that’s not the definition of clumsy it actually means awkward in movement or in handling things or to do something without skill or elegance and difficult to handle.” Harry has to fight the urge to roll his eyes but instead he just focuses on how small your hand looks in his while he looks at the cuts on your knuckles that are already starting to form little bruises around them. “So when I tell you I’m clumsy it doesn’t mean I fall a lot it means I drop things every now and then.” You explain with a huff as you look down at your hand that Harry is examining as if it’s a priceless jewel that’s not to be handled with anything other than feather light touches and the occasional gentle rub of his thumb.

“So you don’t fall a lot then?” He asks while dropping one of his hands from yours so he can turn around and lead you out of the nursery. You don’t bother trying to fight him so you let out a sigh as you just let him lead you by the hand out of the room and down the hallway.

“Not really no.” You answer once the two of you are in the kitchen. Harry just nods as he pulls out a chair for you to sit in at the kitchen table, to his surprise you sit down without a word or a huff and he silently thanks you for letting him fuss over you with a small smile before he turns to head towards your small medicine cabinet you have next to your fridge.

“But what if you do fall one day and no one is here?”

“Uhm then I just get up and go on with my day? What kind of fall are-”

“I don’t like you being here alone when something could happen at anytime and I’m fifteen-twenty minutes away.” You feel your eyes go wide as Harry finally finds the box of Disney themed bandaids, pulling out one with Belle on it and finding it very fitting since you have a deep love of books as well.

“Harry I’ve lived alone for a very long time and been just fine.”

“Okay well that was before-”

“Before what?”

“You got pregnant with my twins.” His words make you sit back in the chair and blink a few times as he runs the hand that’s not holding your princess bandaid over his face. “I think I’m allowed to worry about you being alone a lot when you’re walking around with-with my whole world inside of your belly. Because what if next time something happens it’s not just a little cut on your hand? What if it’s serious and I can’t get here in time to help you?” Out of instinct you place your hands on top of your bump as he tells you exactly why this little scrape on your knuckles has caused such an intense reaction.

“I worry about you and just want to know you’re safe that’s all.” You feel a lump start to form in your throat as he lets out a shaky breath before he turns to look at you.

“I understand.” Your voice is strained as you try to swallow down the emotions that want so desperately to start bubbling over. “I just don’t know how to help you not be so worried.” You tell him truthfully, because at the moment you have no clue how to help ease his anxiety about you being alone if something happens.

“I take it you don’t fancy the idea of just moving-” A sudden knock makes both of your heads turn towards the front door. Harry takes the interruption to really think about what he was about to say to you, asking how you felt about moving in with him, even if he didn’t quite mean it as seriously as you might’ve taken it he was still only a few seconds away from letting the words fall from his mouth and that takes him by more of a surprise than the knock that stopped it from happening.

“Are you expecting someone?” Your voice takes him out of his brief moment of deep thought as you look away from the door and towards him with a raised brow.

“Me? This isn’t my house why would I be expecting someone?” You just shrug as you make a move to get up but are quickly stopped by Harry standing in front of you holding out the bandaid he picked, making a small smile appear on your face when you see it’s Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

“I’m not expecting anyone.” You state as you raise your hand for him so he can place the bandage on your scraped knuckles before turning and heading for your front door so he can answer it for you. He imagines whoever it is that’s expecting you will be quite shocked to find him on the other side of the door but that’s an issue he will deal with once he has to.

“Check the peephole before you open it Harry it could be a weirdo.” You call out to him as he gets closer to the front door causing him to roll his eyes before he leans in and looks out the tiny peephole on your door.

“There’s no one out there so maybe it was just a delivery?” You raise an eyebrow as you lean over a bit so you have a direct line of sight to your front door allowing you to watch Harry open it to reveal a white box with a pink and blue bow tied around it. “It’s a cake.” He says as he bends down to carefully pick up the box so he can bring it inside.

“A cake? I didn’t order a cake.” You begin to go through your memory of the last few days as Harry kicks your front door closed with his foot before walking back towards you in the kitchen with the box in his hands. “Did I order a cake in my sleep? No. No way I- I haven’t done that in months.” You mumble to yourself making Harry send you a questioning glance as he places the cake down on the table in front of you.

“You’ve ordered a cake in your sleep before?”

“Oh has Mr. Popular never ordered something while half asleep? I highly doubt that.” You tease as Harry reaches for the card that’s taped to the top of the box before sitting down in the chair next to you.

“It’s from my mom.” He says in a very confused voice but as he goes to read the rest of the card he sees your fingers grab the top of it yanking it out of his hands.

“God have some manners this is my cake so it’s my card so let me read it.”

“Uh it said to the lovely parents to be making it our cake and our card.”

“Why would she send a cake for both of us to my apartment?”

“Because she knows I was planning on hanging the curtains for you today.” He answers as he begins to undo the bow, careful not to ruin it because he has a feeling you’re going to want to keep it for sentimental reasons. While you read over the card he opens the box and as soon as he sees what’s written on the cake he feels his stomach do a weird flip.

“All it says is-Harry? What’s-”

“This isn’t just a cake.”

“What do you mean it’s not-oh my god.” Your words turn into a whisper as Harry turns the box towards you so you can read what the top of the cake says. His eyes watch your reaction closely as you bring the hand that’s not clutching the card up to cover your mouth.

“It says we’re having twins with three little dots at the end so that-” Harry swallows before he looks at the cake that you’re still staring at with wide eyes as your hand goes from covering your mouth up to your forehead as you begin to breathe a little heavier. “That means it’s going to tell us what we are having.” He finishes with a heavy sigh.

“Okay this is fine we will just act like it’s a normal cake and honestly this is great because at the end of the day we get to have cake and who doesn’t like cake?” Harry just goes along with your anxious rambling as you begin to fan yourself with the card while he stands up from his seat so he can carefully take the cake out of the box and place it down on the table.

“I’m gonna go grab uhm plates and a-a knife.” You don’t even bother nodding as you stare at the cake in front of you that somehow holds the answer to an extremely important question while Harry stumbles his way into your kitchen on the hunt for two plates and a knife. “Okay so how do you want to do this?” He asks once he’s back sitting next to you.

“Uh maybe I’ll cut it with my eyes closed and-”

“You want me to let you hold a knife with your eyes closed? After you already had to get a bandaid not even ten minutes ago?”

“Okay then just cut it a piece and put it on a plate.” You answer as you stop fanning yourself and place the card on the table next to the cake so you can reach over and hand Harry the knife.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this kind of anxiety before, and he knows it’s just the anticipation of finally finding out what you’re carrying but he can’t help how shaky his hand is as he holds the knife over the cake. He shoots you a look and when you just nod at him as you chew on your bottom lip he takes a deep breath and cuts into the cake. You feel like time moves in slow motion as Harry cuts a piece and puts it on the plate in front of you, both of you stare at it for a solid minute before you can process what exactly you’re looking at.

“That’s pink.” He whispers as you let out a sniffle while you nod your head.

“And blue.” You feel your eyes begin to burn as you look at the piece of white cake that’s been dyed blue for two layers and pink for the other two with a thin layer of vanilla icing in between each layer.

“A boy and-and a girl? We’re having a boy and a girl.” Harry’s voice is watery as he finally looks away from the cake and over to you and when your eyes meet it’s as if the flood gates open and the tears begin to roll down your face.

Before you can even make sense of what you’re doing you fling your arms around Harry and pull him into an awkwardly angled hug, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he wraps his arms around you in return. He tries to hold his emotions together but as soon as he feels you give him a squeeze he can’t help but let a few tears slip past his waterline. When you pull away a few moments later you grab Harry’s hands and place them on your bump, letting your hands loosely grip his wrists.

“Edward and Nora.” The grin that spreads across Harry’s face as you say the names the two of you agreed on last week makes your heart want to explode as you place your hands over his.

“Hello Edward James and Nora Anne Styles I’m-I’m your dad and I can’t wait to meet you.” He says with a smile as he leans down so he’s closer to your bump making a whole new wave of tears want to flow down your cheeks but you do your best to blink them away.

“I hope they have your eyes.”

“Yeah? Even though they’re big and dumb?”

“More importantly they’re green.” Harry laughs at your response as he rubs his thumbs over the soft material of your shirt that’s covering your bump. “Oh god where’s Paris? I need to tell him he’s going to have a brother and a sister.” You begin to look around the kitchen for any signs of the orange cat trying not to feel overwhelmed by how good and normal it feels having Harry rub and talk to your bump.

“I’ll go find him.” Harry says with a smile as he gives your bump one last gentle rub before you lift your hands off of his allowing him to get up from his seat. You give him a smile when he looks at you one more time before heading down the hallway to check your bedroom, but the moment he’s out of sight you let out a deep breath and try to get a firm grip on your emotions not wanting to let this moment cause you to slip into a dangerous line of thinking. The type that ends with you starting to envision Harry around all the time, doting on you like he did earlier with the bandaid and just being as normal as a couple the two of you could be. But you know for that to ever happen he’d have to actually have some sort of feelings for you and as far as you know he just sees you as someone who’s having his babies that he now can tolerate being around.

“Holy shit.” Harry mumbles as he runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat at the end of your bed. He takes a minute to think about everything that’s just happened in the last five minutes. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he finally starts to come to some sort of conclusion about how he feels about you. His moment of peace is short lived as he hears a bell jingle and soon feels the softness of fur rubbing at his ankles. “Can you keep a secret?” He asks the orange cat as he looks up at him from where he’s sitting next to Harry’s right ankle, his favorite one to snack on Harry has learned. When Paris just tilts his head Harry does something risky and bends down and gently picks him up but to his surprise Paris just nuzzles his head into the crook of Harry’s neck and starts purring.

“I think I have a crush on your mom.” He whispers to Paris who doesn’t do anything besides purr a little louder as Harry smiles and stands up so he can bring him to you. “Don’t tell her okay?” He adds in a hushed voice and when Paris just moves his head a bit to get comfortable Harry feels like he has finally done it, he has earned the trust of your very picky and very protective cat and takes that as a good sign that he’s made the right decision in acknowledging his feelings about you, now all he has to do is figure out how to tell you.

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mariasont · 3 days ago

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hiii! could you write aaron x bau! reader where they have a child that’s like 2 or around that age - so still very little but one day they came back from a case and yn was so unwell and turns out that she’s pregnant again but they weren’t planning and work’s been so busy and she’s a bit scared how aaron’s going to react🥺 thanks!!!! 🫶🏻

Two Heartbeats Later - A.H

summary: you weren’t planning for another baby, but life doesn’t wait for timing to be perfect and hotch shows you that sometimes the best things are the ones you don’t see coming pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader tags: pregnant reader, unplanned pregnancy, soft!hotch, domesticity, flangst, happy ending, established relationship, a little post pregnancy stress wc: 2.3k

You barely made it past the front door when your body gave up the charade. Like it had been so wired together with caffeine and pure fucking spite, like every muscle had been clenched so tight for so long that the moment your brain registered home, everything unspooled at once.

You go-bag slid from your shoulder, the strap half biting for half a second before it was gone. You think you heard it hit the floor. Think you heard the keys, still clenched in your uncooperative fingers, rattle against the table. Shoes still on. Jacket too. But taking it off required effort, and you'd run out of that hours ago. The couch was there, and then so were you. Face-first, half-breathing, half-existing.

The sigh that pushed from your chest felt endless, like it had been lodged inside you for days. Weeks maybe. Years.

The house was quiet. Unnaturally so.

No padding feet, no sticky hands pulling at your sleeve, no stubborn, sleepy voices demanding one more story before bed. Jessica had taken Jack and your two-year-old, Bella, insisting that you and Aaron need real sleep after back-to-back cases.

You should have been relieved. It should have felt like a luxury. Should have.

Aaron's voice reached you from somewhere behind. "Well, aren't you dramatic."

You exhaled, too drained to even roll your eyes, barely mustering the energy to glance at him over the arm of the couch. He was by the door, still half in shadow, arms loose at his sides and watching you with that look on his face that he got sometimes—the one that said you were both completely insane and completely adored, all in equal measure.

You made a noise. Not words, not quite a groan either, the sound barely making it past the cushions.

"That bad?"

You lifted a limp arm and let it flop back onto the couch.

"I see." A pause. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably."

The fridge door hissed as it opened, then shut. The tap turned on, ran for a few seconds, then clicked off. A glass placed, not set, not dropped, just placed, onto the counter. Then, the soft shuffle of socked feet across the floor. The indication he was near by the couch dipping under his weight.

And then there was his hand, finding your leg, fingers pushing into the space between your ankle and the couch. One shoe. Then the next. Like he'd done this a thousand times before. Which he had. Because you were beyond lucky. Fortunate. Blessed. All the vocab words that could be synonymous with you being undeserving. His palm dawdled, thumb dragging absently over the thin stretch of skin just above your heel.

Your heart did something stupid and weak in your chest.

"You're a very doting husband," you murmured, aiming for teasing but landing somewhere softer, somewhere warmer.

Aaron chuckled, shifting beside you until he was comfortable, his arm draping over the couch as he turned toward you. "Yeah, I don't get many complaints."

You peeked up at him through tired, half-lidded eyes. "I could complain."

"But you won't." His palm flattened against your hip before slipping away. Gone too soon on purpose, you were sure. "You like being spoiled too much."

You let out a small, drowsy hum. "Maybe."

His hand moved to your back, dragging up the ridges of your spine and smoothing over the knots you'd stopped noticing until now. And it was unfair, really, because he then found that space at the base of your neck, and you were done for.

You should have let yourself be submerged in it. Into him. Into this. You wanted to. Needed to.

But your brain was perpetually doing loops, swinging from thought to thought, refusing to land. Because as much as you wanted to focus on your very handsome, very intuitive husband, on the way he just knew what you needed before you even had to ask, on his touch, on jus the undeniable, singular himness of him (which, okay, maybe wasn't a real world, but you were too tired to litigate that)—all you could hear was JJ's voice.

"God I remember that level of wiped. I felt the same way before I found out about Michael."

It had been a throwaway comment, made with a laugh as you'd all packed up to head home. It was the kind of thing that should have rolled right off your back. And it had, at first. You'd scoffed, waved it off and blamed it on the jet lag and the late nights and the way your body never quite figured out how to recalibrate between cases.

But now, laying on the couch, staring at at the cushions like they held divine answers, every part of you felt off. Tender in a way you didn't like, in a way that felt far too familiar.

And you couldn't ignore it. Well, you could. Probably. Maybe. Except no you couldn't because JJ was unfortunately, irritatingly, horrifyingly right.

Aaron repositioned beside you. "You're quiet."

"I'm tired." As if that could be the end of it. Like if you said it just right, it could turn into an irrefutable fact.

"No kidding." A pause. Then softer, nudging. "Try again."

You turn onto your side, eyes catching his before you brain can screech abort mission, bad idea, too much eye contact, danger. And in that same instant you were even surer of your discernment.

Because this isn't suspicion or paranoia or stress or an overactive imagination.

This is real.

The strange dragging in your limbs, the hot-cold whiplash that makes you constantly second-guess your own damn thermostat, the nausea you wrote off as too many takeout meals and too little sleep.

Your body had known for weeks.

It felt like someone had upended a bucket of ice water down your back. Or no, actually, more like a door slamming shut on every single ounce of stability you had spent years clawing toward.

Because there was no room for this. No room in the schedule, not in the fridge (which, let's be honest, was already one yogurt cup away from disaster), and certainly not in the tenuous, barely-functioning balancing act that was your life.

Jack's school projects, his late-night study sessions, his growing independence that you want to encourage, needed to encourage, but what if you're pushing too hard? What if you're not pushing enough? Bella's refusal to eat anything that isn't shaped like a star, her impossible stubbornness, her need for you that takes up every ounce of energy you have left.

And work. Gods, work. The late nights, the cases that leave bruises on you emotionally and physically, the constant demand to give more, be more, solve more.

You barely made it though last time. How are you supposed to do it again?

Before you can spiral any further, before your brain can really sink its teeth into the oh my gods, you're fucked of it all, you're moving, no, being moved, with absolutely no input on your part, being hauled into Aaron's lap.

"Do I need to bribe you out of whatever's happening in that head of yours?" he muses, shifting so his hands can slip beneath your shirt, palm warm against too-cold ribs. "Or do I just have to annoy you until you snap out of it?"

You blink at him, heavy-lidded, and he smiles, unfairly amused. "Because I can talk about legal precedents and federal jurisdiction until you pass out from boredom."

You groan dramatically, letting your head fall against his shoulder like you're already picturing it.

"Not the legal precedents," you mumble, voice muffled by his shirt. "Anything but that."

"That's what I thought."

You peek up at him, pouting. "I'll take bribery, please."

He smirks and inclines his head like he's mulling it over. "What's my price?"

You angle your head, shifting just enough that he’ll get the hint, because obviously he’s not dense, and obviously you don’t have to spell it out.

Aaron's chuckle is warm and affectionate, and his smirk slips into something more partial. "Well, lucky me."

His lips graze yours like he has nowhere else to be, like the rest of your world isn't hanging on by a thread. And gods, for just one selfish second, you let yourself chase it, into that fleeting illusion that everything is fine.

But then he pulls away, and it's gone. The illusion crumbles, slipping through your fingers like sand.

Because he's too good. Too selfless. Too willing to bear everything like it won't eventually crush him. And now here you are, about to pile more onto his already impossible load. Another thing for him to carry, to shoulder, to make space for when there's already so little left. You don't know if you can stand it, don't know if you can watch the depletion deepen in his eyes and be the reason for it.

Aaron catches it in seconds, because of course he does, because nothing ever gets past him, because you could probably breathe funny and he'd be asking what's wrong. His teasing vanishes immediately, replaced by something gentler, and something infinitely worse.

His hand is on your face before you can neutral your expression, his thumb at the corner of your mouth, like he's trying to press the emotion back in, to stop it from spilling over.

"You're breaking my heart, sweetheart," he murmurs, fixing his head to meet your gaze. "Tell me how to fix it."

Your hands lift, like the movement might shake the words loose, might make sense of everything in your head, but they fall just as fast, fingers tangling into the material of his shirt.

“It’s just—I don’t know, I should’ve seen it coming, right? But I didn’t, and now it’s like—” You squeeze your eyes shut, breath shaking. “Aaron, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how it happened, I don’t know what to think, I don’t—”

"Hey, honey," Aaron interrupted, his thumbs sweeping careful paths down your tear-stricken cheeks. His brow dips. "Slow down for me, okay? I need you to breathe."

You try, you really do, but your chest feels like it's wrapped in steel bands, too tight to expand properly, and your thoughts are useless, spinning too fast, overlapping, crashing into each other.

"You're talking in circles, baby. Help me understand."

A sound claws its way out of your throat, half a sob, half hysteria.

Aaron just watches, expectantly, like he's waiting for the moment it all clicks into place. For you to say it. For you to crack wide open.

"Aaron, I'm—God, I'm pregnant."

For a long, stretched-out second, he doesn't move.

His eyes flicker between yours, scanning, searching, reading every inch of your expression before, instinctively, unconsciously, they drop downward. To your stomach.

His hands follow, hesitantly, like they already knew, like something deep in him had felt it before his mind could catch up. But he doesn't touch you, not yet. His fingers just hover, inches from your shirt, like he's afraid to break something delicate. Like he needs to believe in it first.

"You're—?" It's not even a word, just a shape in his mouth, just air barely pushed into sound.

You nod, and oh, something gives way, splinters inside you, breaks open just like he was wanting and suddenly, you can't stop talking.

"I know," you whisper, voice breaking, hands swiping furiously at damp cheeks. "I know."

Your shoulders tremble, fresh tears slipping past your lashes, and damn it, you can't stop them, can't stop any of it.

"I'm so sorry, please don't be upset, I don't know how this happened, I didn't mean for it to happen, I—,"

"Hey." You freeze instantly. "Stop."

He pauses for a second as if trying to figure out the right thing to say. "Why are you apologizing?"

You open your mouth, already scrambling for some kind of justification, some kind of explanation, but he's faster.

"Pretty sure we were both there when this happened," he says, voice so deadpan, you almost didn't hear the amusement as his mouth flicked upward. "Fairly certain it was a mutual effort."

You let out a choked, watery laugh. "But we weren't expecting this. We didn't plan for this, and the timing is awful, and work is insane, and Bella—,"

"—will be fine."

"Jack—,"

"—will love it."

"And what about us?"

Aaron's hand moves again, actually pressing to your stomach now. And then he smiles, this tiny, crooked, almost smug little thing that makes your stomach flip in a completely different way, like he's remembering something good, something soft, something dangerously sentimental.

"Did I ever tell you," he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, like he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to drop this, "that you weren't even supposed to be on my team?"

Your brows furrow instantly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he says finally, "you were supposed to be off in some White Collar division. Probably catching investment bankers committing tax fraud."

"Then how did I end up here?"

Aaron snorts—actually snorts. "A clerical error."

"Are you serious?"

"Like I said, Strauss meant to assign you to the White Collar division." His thumb strokes along your jaw, like he’s trying to soften the absurdity of what he’s about to say. "But someone messed up the paperwork. By the time she noticed, you'd already started your first week."

A sharp, incredulous breath escapes you. "So I got on the team by accident."

"Not entirely," he murmurs. "Strauss asked if I wanted her to fix it. Move you where you were actually supposed to go."

"And?"

His hands find their way into your hair before you can process the movement—fingertips brushing against your scalp, smoothing strands away, tucking them behind your ears, like he needs to see you.

"And I almost told her yes." And he says it in a way that makes you think maybe he still can't believe it.

"Not because of your skills," he continues. "But because I knew—I knew that if I spent any more time with you, I was going to fall in love with you."

"And I didn't want that," he admits. "Because I wasn't sure if I was ready for something that permanent."

He'd never told you this. Not in words. Maybe in glances, in pauses, in the way he always found you first, in a crowd, in a crime scene. But never like this. Never out loud. Your brain stutters, short-circuits, tries to process it, but it's like pouring water into a cup that's already full, it spills over, sloshes everywhere, and makes a mess of things.

You almost laugh except there's this awful, aching tightness in your throat, and you think if you let the sound out, it might not be a laugh at all.

"So what changed?"

He lets out a breath, a small, almost reluctant smile playing at his lips. "You told me to relax."

"Excuse me?"

“You were new. Three weeks in. I was this close to telling Strauss yes. Had the email typed out, my finger hovering over send. And that whole week, I had been—” he pauses, smirks faintly, “—a pain in the ass. And you just—” another shake of his head, “—you knocked, walked in, took one look at me, and said, Hotch, you need to relax.”

A long, drawn-out pause.

"And then you walked out."

You let out an unguarded laugh. "No, I didn't."

"You did. And I remember thinking—who the hell does she think she is?" Then, without hesitation, he pulls you flush against him, like that thought alone is hilarious in retrospect. "And then, two seconds later, thinking—God, I hope she never stops. And you never did."

"And thank God for that." His forehead presses to yours. "Because now, you're my beautiful wife. The mother of my children. You know, I spent so much of my life thinking I needed a plan but turns out the best things happen when you don't."

And then he kisses you and damn it, he tastes like that coffee, the stupidly expensive, unnecessarily strong stuff he insists on smuggling onto the jet, the kind that is so obnoxiously him it makes your head spin.

Dark roast, sharp on his tongue and now on yours, transferring straight into you like somehow he's the one who's addicting. And maybe he is. Because when he pulls back, there's another smirk at his mouth, but his hand stays at the nape of your neck, like he's already considering doing it again. And Jesus, you hope he does.

"You know," he muses, far too casual for a man about to be slapped. "if we really think about it, this might actually be your fault."

Your jaw drops. "Come again?"

He tilts his head, all easy amusement, all knowing. "You were the one who insisted on that very thorough stress relief session a few weeks ago."

Your face flames. "Aaron!"

“Oh, don’t act innocent,” he hums, tilting his head like he’s thinking, like he’s remembering in excruciating detail. “I was there. I distinctly recall the moment you climbed into my lap and said—”

"Stop talking."

"—Aaron, I need to—"

Your hand clamps over his mouth, but his laughter is instant, vibrating against your palm, his eyes crinkling at the corners, full of mischief and love and the kind of thing that turns your brain to static.

"You’re the worst," you mutter.

Aaron just smirks, prying your hand away, pressing a kiss to your lips like a punctuation mark. "Says the one who keeps letting me knock her up."

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

#aaron hotchner x wife!reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner flangst #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader

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maskedbyghost · 2 days ago

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When Angels Fall

Hello, my lovely people! Ready for some soul-crushing angst? No? Too bad—send your tears via mail. Love you! Also, all blame should be directed to the anon who requested this. Okay, thanks, bye!

Simon never believed in angels.

The world was too cruel, too ugly for something as pure as that. Wings were clipped, halos were tarnished, and heaven felt like a myth told to children who hadn't yet seen the things he had. He knew better than to believe in fairytales.

And then he met you.

You were 141’s guardian in the sky, an airman with a reputation that preceded you. Your callsign was Halo. It fit, he supposed, given how you watched over them, weaving through the air with a precision that impessed him since the very beginning he met you.

Your voice, crackled through his comms during every mission, would guide them out of hell and back home. You kept them safe, and God, if you weren’t the calmest person he’d ever known.

But it wasn’t just the security you brought that got under his skin. It was you—your voice, your laugh, the way you could turn a routine check-in into something that made him feel less like a ghost and more like a man.

“Wheels up in ten, boys,” you’d say, and Simon would find himself smiling under his mask, comforted by just the sound of you.

He didn’t know how it happened—how you managed to slip past the walls he had spent years building. Maybe it was the way you read him like an open book, saw through his hard exterior, or how you never once pushed him for more than he could give. Maybe it was because you still spoke to him like he was worth saving despite all the blood on his hands.

He didn’t know how, but he fell. Hard.

And the most terrifying part? You caught him.

It started small. You’d read off mission briefings in that smooth, calm voice of yours, and he’d listen like it was scripture. Then, you’d tease him about his accent and call him ‘big guy’ over the radio just to hear his exasperated huff. He didn’t even mind—not really. He’d never admit it, but he liked it. He liked you.

And at some point, it wasn’t enough to hear you only on missions.

One night, after a brutal mission, he found himself restless, the heavy burden of the battlefield clinging to him. He didn’t think—just grabbed his radio and switched to your private frequency.

“You up?” His voice was rough, and you immediately knew that he wasn’t okay.

There was a pause, then a soft chuckle could be heard coming from your side. “Simon Riley, calling me just to talk? I must be dreaming.”

He should’ve played it off and made some excuse about mission reports or logistics, but instead, he said, “Can’t sleep.”

A moment of silence passed, and then you said, “Want me to read to you?”

He frowned. “What, like a bedtime story?”

“Exactly like a bedtime story.”

He should’ve said no. Should’ve shut off his radio and suffered through another sleepless night like he always did. But he didn’t.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright.”

And so you did. Some book you had lying around, something about stars and the vast, endless sky. He barely remembered the words—just the sound of your voice, soft and lulling—until sleep finally took him.

After that, it became a habit. Whenever the weight of the world became too much, he’d reach for his radio, and you’d be there, voice soft in his ear, pulling him back from the darkness in a way nothing else could.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone.

But, he should’ve known happiness like this wouldn’t last.

The mission was supposed to be routine. Get in, retrieve intel, and get out. Simple. Clean.

It wasn’t.

Everything went to hell fast. Some kind of ambush, a miscalculation on their part, and the enemy waiting for them like they knew they were coming. The ground team was pinned and cut off from their extraction point, and Ghost could hear the tension in your voice as you called for support.

“Hang tight, I’m coming in,” you promised, your aircraft screaming through the sky.

He had no doubt you would. You always did.

You swooped in, raining fire from above, giving them enough cover to push forward. For a moment, it worked. For a moment, he thought they might actually make it.

Then the missile hit.

The explosion was deafening—a violent burst of flame and metal as your aircraft took a direct hit. Ghost felt it like a punch to the gut, his heart lurching into his throat as your voice crackled through his comms.

“Mayday, mayday! I’m hit—controls are—fuck—”

The world slowed.

He could hear Gaz yelling, could see Soap moving, but all he could focus on was your voice, filled with panic and your breathing ragged as you tried—tried so hard—to stabilize.

“Ghost—”

And he knew. He fucking knew.

“Eject,” he ordered, his voice steady despite his whole body shaking from the shock. “Now.”

“I—”

A choked sound. Static.

And then—

Silence.

They found the wreckage hours later.

What was left of it actually.

The ground was scorched, metal twisted and blackened, and the smell of burning fuel filled the air around them. There was no body, just fragments of what had once been your aircraft, pieces of you scattered like shattered glass.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Just stared at the wreckage, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.

Price placed a hand on his shoulder and murmured something meant to comfort. He barely heard it.

All he could hear was your last transmission, looping in his mind like a broken record. Your voice—his anchor, his safe place—reduced to a desperate cry for help he couldn’t answer.

That night, for the first time in years, he reached for his radio and switched to your private frequency.

Static.

He closed his eyes, gripping the radio so tightly it trembled in his hands. He waited, hoping—praying—that somehow, against all logic, you’d answer.

But you didn’t.

You never would again.

And Simon never believed in angels.

Not until he lost one.

-------------------------------------------

gonna go hide now.

@daydreamerwoah

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley angst

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watchtowerlibrary · 3 days ago

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Damn it, hit me with that rivals to lovers trope 🫠

One: He likes seeing you like this--angry. Like, really, really angry. Mmmh, interesting. Would you look at that - add a naked Reader to the mix and he's a goner.

Two: Damn, he really is bad at keeping his cool when talking to someone pretty, huh? Oh my God, he knows her favourite drink flavour �� "I really like you," Jake murmurs against your mouth. And here I thought my cold heart couldn't turn soft.

Three: He sighs contentedly, a grin biting his lips when your tired laughter rings out in his bedroom. Look at this boy turning soft. Jake is smiling tiredly as he blinks at his ceiling fan, his arm firmly holding your naked body against his. He's tired--those Stellas are catching up with him--but he's happy. He's like really, really happy.

Four: Oh wow, he wants to meet her dad (who's a damn legend, let's be real here) after mere seconds of having sex. Looks like someone is getting them feelings. Now he wants to touch you in any and every capacity, all the time, everywhere. Look at this touchy-feely man. How long has he been in love with you? Damn you, Ice. 🥹

Five: "Bob--you know?" Rooster asks incredulously. Look at that stealth pilot. You're giggling a little bit, especially when you two fumble as soon as you start to turn. He laughs, too, but kisses you gently. And then the two of you dance in the moonlight very near the beach with all your friends just inside. Jake, you big softie.

Six: Or maybe it's just because your date is getting ready alongside you. "What time should I pick you up?" Jake says as you stand beside him. Why do I find this parallel prep so cute? I'm getting married couple vibes.

Seven: Why is it so adorable for a babbling Jake to ask being the little spoon? You lean into his palm, smiling. “I really love you,” Jake sighs, shaking his head. Damn, those two are just so soft. Rooster makes so much noise 😅 Unlike Bob, the stealth pilot, definitely. Seems like his fight or flight instinct offered a third option: frozen.

Eight: Huh, so, Rooster knows which type of birth control makes Reader unwell 🤔 And Reader is the weird one in that scenario 😅

Nine: Look at that cute wittle kid 🥹

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀) 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄: 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐗, 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓, 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘, 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅.

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲--𝐓𝐨𝐦 "𝐈𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫--𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐩 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰: 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐧-𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝. 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 (𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬), 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧-𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐁 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐎𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫!

𝟏: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 —𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐲𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲.

𝟐: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 —𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧-𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧-𝐁.

𝟑: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 —𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧-𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝟒: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 —𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝.

𝟓: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 —𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝟔: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅 —𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲).

𝟕: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑! —𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐲. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐢 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝟖: 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊: 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 —𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞.

𝟗: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐍𝐃 —𝐀 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝.

#fic rec #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #watchtowerlibrary

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dyingswanpavlova · 3 days ago

Text

Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.” You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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