#wait do kids eat salads?

[newtness532]

what does a six year old even eat? the only child around that age i can think of is my brother and he is just as bad with food as i am

[pepsiboyy]

WHEN THE HOUSE IS EMPTY.

pairing: soft dom!chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: when chris finally gets the house to himself for the night, he invites his girlfriend over to spend the night spoiling her rotten. warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart pls), fingering, oral (fem receiving), praise, use of pet names (angel, love), cursing, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship a/n: this is my first smut on here pls bear w me... but i hope it is AWESOME i love u guys <3 please give me feedback also !! i hope this is ok . <3 3.2k words

i swallowed thickly as i grasped the straps of my backpack, standing at the front door of my boyfriend's home.

chris had texted me last night, asking if i could come spend the night tonight as his brothers had planned to do something that had to do with "business stuff".

i had never really done this sort of thing. chris and i had been together about three to four months, and we had confessed our love to one another and kissed and whatnot, but that's about it. it didn't bother either of us, we just moved at a pace we were both comfortable at.

my eyes snapped up at chris opened the door and grinned ear to ear, opening his arms wide to engulf my body into his. "hi, angel," he greeted against my ear.

i hugged his waist with a soft smile. with a deep breath, i took in the comforting scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of his shampoo.

as chris pulled away, he gently took my hand and guided me inside. once he shut and locked the front door, he reached out to take my bag from me and transport it to his bedroom.

i let out a content sigh as i took in the familiar home, but it was so different when it was just chris here. much quieter, too.

"i have such a fun night planned for us!" chris cheered as he came back up the stairs, his hands clasped together in excitement.

i couldn't help but smile warmly at him.

the white tank that hugged his torso perfectly and his black sweats that hung dangerously low kept my attention on him.

"what do you have planned?" i asked as i took a seat at the table in the kitchen, smiling warmly at him.

chris did a little dance, his slightly dampened hair flopping with each sudden movement before he halted and shot two finger guns at me. "dinner!"

i chuckled at his embarrassing dance, nodding softly and standing up. "what're we makin'?"

chris's jaw dropped. "are you kidding? i already made it." he giggled as he opened the oven to reveal a tin of fettuccini alfredo with grilled chicken, some slices of garlic bread on the side. he also went into the fridge, where behind all the different lyrical lemonade cans, there was a bowl of ceasar salad.

"did you make this yourself?" i asked, my jaw hung open in shock.

"well," he started as he trailed off, "i guess nick helped a bit.. and youtube... matt, too, sorta.."

"it looks amazing," i stood up and smiled as i wrapped an arm around chris's waist, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "i can't wait to eat!"

i moved to pull away, but chris gently took my jaw between his fingers and turned our faces together again, exchanging one quick peck to my lips. "me neither," he replied with a soft smile.

dinner was outstanding. i never could have thought that chris could put something like that together.

"blue shell!" chris's voice boomed as his hands gripped the controller in his hands.

"fuck!" i shouted, my tongue sticking out in focus as i tried my hardest to remain in first place in mario kart.

"please, please, please, please," chris chanted, his entire body straight as he was sitting at the edge of the couch. "yes!!" he shouted, flying past me in the game at the last moment to take first place. his arms flew in the air, controller loosely dangling from his fingers as he shot me a shit-eating grin.

"not fair," i stated quickly.

"it definitely is, y/n, i won fair and square." he defended, moving to hug my waist and press his nose into the crook of my neck.

i chuckled at this, a hand of mine moving to his jaw to caress his cheek softly. "fine. you win."

chris did a small fist pump before pulling away with a bright smile.

we sat like that for a few moments, eyes locked on one another before he gasped at the song that came on. "oh my god, i fucking love this song." he stated quickly as he took my hands and stood to his feet, dragging me up with him.

i gasped at the sudden movement, my smile never leaving my face as i laughed beside him.

3 nights by dominic fike had started playing in the speaker that chris had set up, which was playing ambient music most of our time tonight. he turned it up and smiled widely as he held my hands, waving them around and biting his lip into a wide smile.

i couldn't help but smile at him, the way his curly hair bounced with each silly dance he did, his fingers never unlocking from mine. every once in a while he would stop for a breath before starting again, his eyes locked on mine.

i did my best to keep up, jumping around with him and waving my arms as we both loudly sang the words. no matt to give us shit for being too loud in the living room today.

the song eventually came to an end, both of us panting softly as we both smiled at one another. a soft chuckle escaped both of us, before the next song began playing.

i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys?

"since when do you listen to this?" i chuckled.

"i- it's a good song," chris defended, his cheeks growing pink as he moved his hands to gently take my waist. "also because it's one of your favorites."

i smiled warmly at him. "alright, buddy," i smiled. i moved my arms up to rest on his shoulders, my hands connecting behind his head as i looked up at him and chuckled. "are we slow dancing in your living room?"

"maybe?"

"is this your idea of a smooth move?" i joked, a soft giggle leaving me as chris's face burnt up.

"hey, let a man live." he defended, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my back as we swayed softly.

i had to give it to him - i was having a great time with him.

what started as me being a nervous wreck for whatever reason resulted in me having an amazing time.

"y/n," chris stated softly, dragging me out of my thoughts. i locked eyes with him, smiling. "i love you," he whispered softly.

i could feel my cheeks heat up. "i love you too, chris." i smiled as i gently moved a hand to bury into his hair, gently running my fingers through it. "i've had a great time so far tonight."

chris smiled at this, nodding softly as he removed a hand from my waist to gently press against my cheek, holding my face there softly. "can i kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

i nodded softly as i closed my eyes and leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of us.

chris's thumb gently grazed my cheek as he kissed me softly, his eyes closed.

no words could express the feelings i was feeling right now.

feeling a bit bold, my arms tightened around him as i deepened the kiss and tilted my head softly against him.

i could feel chris's lips curve into a small smile as he moved his hand from my waist to my lower back, his lips working against mine in sync with me.

when he gently took my bottom lip between his, i parted my lips softly as our tongues collided.

a few more moments went by and we pulled away, both with heavy breaths and a string of saliva that kept us connected for a brief moment.

we stared at each other for a brief moment before i took a deep breath. "chris," i started, before taking his hand in mine and interlocking our fingers, "i'm, uhh... i'm ready.. if you wanna-"

"me too," he quickly stated, a bright smile on his face as he tightened his grip on my hand and began walking towards the steps downstairs, which i followed and giggled as he tripped slightly on the way to his room.

"watch your step, chris!"

"i'll be fine," he smiled as he opened the door and turned us around so that my back faced his bed, his foot lifting off the ground to kick the door shut behind him. the door shut a little louder than he had anticipated, causing us both to flinch. "oops."

"chris-" i scolded, but i was quickly cut off when he pressed his lips to mine once more, gently pushing me against the mattress and hovering over me.

his hand gently grazed my hip and toyed with the hem of my shirt. he pulled away from the kiss to glance down at his hand, and back into my eyes. "is this okay?" he asked softly, which i quickly responded with a nod. "tell me if anything isn't okay, alright?" he stated softly, and gently began lifting my shirt off of my body.

the comfort of chris's voice was enough for me to let him do whatever he had wanted.

the cold air of the room kissed my skin, causing a shiver to run through my body. but every goose bump on my skin melted away when i stared up at chris, who was pulling his own shirt above his head.

"you okay?" he questioned, leaning down again to caress my cheek softly.

"i promise everything's fine," i reassured with a shy smile, and chris smiled back, pressing a kiss to my lips before he pulled away.

he kissed against my neck softly, sending shivers through my body. his lips moved down to my shoulder, down to my collarbone and down the center of my chest.

i felt like he was exploring the entirety of my body.

"can we take this off, love?" he asked, gently tugging at the strap to my bra.

i nodded quickly as i sat up and reached behind me to unclasp it, but chris's hands came around mine as he did it for me.

i felt my face heat up as it dropped, and my arms instinctively moved up to cover myself.

"shhh," chris reached to my wrists and gently lowered my arms, his nose moving up to press against the shell of my ear. "you're gorgeous. no need to hide, not ever." he gently pressed a kiss to my jaw before working down again, his lips moving to press against the skin of my left breast.

my breath hitched slightly at the feeling as i instinctively moved a hand to his hair.

the moment his lips pressed to my nipple, i felt my eyes scrunch shut as i arched my back slightly into him. the feeling was so familiar yet so unfamiliar.

chris's tongue circled around it, his eyes shut as he ran his hand up my stomach to gently knead at my right side.

i let out a shaky moan, one hand burying into his brunette locks as the other dove into the sheets.

chris eventually switched to give the other side the same attention, and after a few moments, i shakily lifted my hips to meet his, which caused a groan to erupt from us both.

chris lifted his head and moved back up to press a soft kiss to my lips, his eyes locked on mine. he admired me for a moment before his hands met with the hem of my pajama pants. "may i?" he questioned softly, his voice groggy. i nodded quickly.

chris gently tugged my shorts down and let out a shaky breath, simply at the sight of the thin, deep red fabric that hugged my hips.

i smiled softly at him. "like what you see?" i joked, and chris simply shot me a knowing glance.

"always, angel." he stated softly before he shifted his body on the bed.

"wait- what are you-?"

"takin' care of my girl," chris stated softly, his eyes moving to meet mine as his face was now inches away from my core. "is this okay?"

i blushed darkly. i was no expecting all this. "yeah, yeah that's perfect," i breathed, shifting my hips against the sheets slightly.

chris moved to press soft kisses against the insides of my thighs, his eyes closed. one hand found its way to move my underwear to the side before both of his hands wrapped around my thighs to lock them in place.

my eyes squeezed shut and my entire body shuttered as he pressed his lips where i needed him most, his tongue gently gliding along my folds until they reached my clit, where he sucked softly. i tossed my head back and released a moan as a hand subconsciously moved to lace into chris's hair. "shit." i breathed.

chris's eyes met mine for only a second before he unlinked a hand from my thigh, pressing a finger against my folds.

i shuttered slightly before a gasp escaped me at the feeling of his finger entering me, my eyes squeezing shut.

"is this okay?" was all he said, his breath hot against my clit.

"fuck, yes," i moaned softly, my volume increasing as chris gently pressed a second finger inside my cunt and began curling them gently.

my back arched as i threw my head back, letting out a shaky breath before i bucked my hips to the best of my ability. my hand gently tugged at his hair as i guided his lips back to my clit.

chris seemed to get the hint, his tongue beginning to lap against me as he sucked on the bud, his fingers pumping and curling inside of me.

"shit, chris-" i gasped as i tugged at his hair softly.

chris removed his fingers and repositioned his body before his tongue entered my cunt, his thumbs prying me open as his nose occasionally grazed my clit.

i let out a string of moans, my hips lifting off the bed and into his face as i warned him of my release.

"i- i'm close, chris, fuck," i breathed.

with the continuous thrust of his tongue, chris moaned softly against me, sending a vibration against my core.

with a gasp and a tight grip on chris's hair, i clenched around his tongue and released my juices against his tongue, my eyes lidded as i panted softly.

chris helped me ride out my high, his hand gently caressing my thigh as he removed himself. he looked at me and licked his lips, a hand reaching to his shirt that he had previously removed. he used it to wipe off his mouth before he pulled away to begin sliding off his black sweats.

"you could have gotten a towel or something," i teased.

"that's too far." he defended, winking softly. "you still okay?" he questioned, gently tossing his sweats onto the floor.

i nodded quickly. "i promise, i-" i took a deep breath, my cheeks still pink from a few moments prior. "as long as i'm with you, anything is okay, chris."

chris simply smiled softly at me. "that's what i love to hear, angel." he whispered before he gently tugged his boxers down, his member meeting with his skin as a small dribble of precum escaped the tip.

your eyes locked on him, causing a chuckle to escape chris. "let's be polite, now," he whispered, moving his fingers to press against your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes and press his lips against yours lovingly. he pulled away and shifted between my legs, smiling softly. "you ready?" he asked softly, and i nodded eagerly.

"ready," i whispered, moving my hand to gently interlock with his.

chris used his free hand to gently part my legs and press his tip against my opening, making my breath hitch.

he slowly pressed into me, deep groans and moans sounding from both of us as chris's bangs hung over his eyes. "fuck," he grunted as he continued to move into me, before he bottomed out and stared at me.

with a few moments to adjust, i shot him a soft nod before he began to move slowly. "shit," he moaned softly, his grip tightening on my hand as he rocked his hips against mine.

our eyes locked, and i swear that did something to chris, because his entire face beamed red as he picked up his pace and pressed his forehead against mine.

a low moan escaped chris's throat as he thrusted into my cunt, my eyes rolling back as i allowed my jaw to hang open. a series of moans escaped us both.

chris gently unlocked our fingers to get a grip on my thigh to lift it. he held up my leg, now hitting a new spot inside of me that made my back arch off of his mattress. "oh fuck," i moaned, my eyes squeezing shut as he pounded against my gspot. "right there, chris," i moaned, causing chris to pick up his pace and slam his cock harder into me.

my eyes teared up slightly at the euphoric feeling, my heart racing as i felt my stomach tie into a knock. chanting his name, i gripped the sheets and clenched against him, resulting in a deep moan from chris's lips.

"fuck, angel, careful," he grunted against my ear, his breath heavy against my shoulder.

i gasped and let out a shaky moan, moving to grip chris's shoulder. "fuck, i'm gonna cum," i breathed, and chris nodded softly.

"me too, love, fuck," he moaned softly, his hips rutting into mine.

a few more thrusts resulted in my voice booming as i cried out, the knot in my stomach snapping as i released all over chris's cock, my eyes squeezing shut.

chris's hips sputtered at the pornographic moan, his throat releasing a deep moan as he pulled out and released against my stomach and chest, his hand moving to gently pump at his member.

chris moved to lay beside me, our eyes shut as he laid beside one another catching our breaths.

i let out a shaky sigh as i turned to chris and smiled weakly, sleepily.

chris turned and met my eyes, a sleepy smile on his face, but it was the same as every other smile he had given me today. "how do you feel?" he questioned, his hand moving to lock with mine again.

i chuckled breathlessly, nodding softly. "fuckin' awesome," i chuckled as i leaned forward to kiss his cheek gently.

chris smiled warmly at me before he reached to get a few tissues, wiping off my skin the best he could. "you did so good for me, angel." he whispered, moving a hand to brush a strand of hair out of my face. "fuck, i'm tired." he admitted.

i scoffed at him as i opened my arms. "me too, chris."

chris bit his lip as he shifted to rest his head against my chest, his eyes closing as he hugged my waist tightly. "i love you s'much." he whispered softly.

i smiled and bit my lip as i kissed the top of his head. one hand threaded through his hair as the other gently rubbed his side. "i love you so much, chris.. thank you for tonight." i whispered.

chris nodded lazily in response, and i chuckled lightly. "get your beauty sleep."

the two of us slowly fell asleep, skin to skin as we breathed together and slept soundly.

maybe i should spend the night at my boyfriend's more often.

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @lovesturni0l0s @sarosfilms @sturnclouds @l34n

[rafeandonlyrafe]

distant calls

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, male masturbation, mentions of p in v sex, like one use of kid, protective!rafe, one mention of violence, kinda creeper!rafe i guess??, dubcon possibly?? not really but just in case!

“hey princess.” rafe smiles when he hears immediately how excited you are.

“hi rafey!” you squeal into the phone, wishing you weren't separated by the distance, forced to talk on the phone instead of in person.

“how was your day pretty girl? what did you do?” rafe asks.

your cheeks blush red at the nickname, never getting used to it no matter how many times he uses it on you. 

“well, it was a port day!” you start to describe your cruise. you really did try to have fun with your parents, but part of you longed to have rafe around, to be back in the obx where he could look after you.

you tell rafe all about the city you stopped in, where you went to shop and a cave exploring excursion that you ended up sitting out to wait on the beach until your parents got back.

you kick your feet up and down, back and forth as you recount everything to rafe. he stays mostly quiet, only letting out a few grunts and light sighs that you suppose is his affirmation that he's listening.

you feel so lucky to have captured rafes interest. you're not dating, haven't done anything at all yet beyond rafe holding your hand when you cross the street, but you're enamored with him. rafe is just as infatuated with you, but he would be damned if he told you, preferring to just keep you smiling and beat up any guys who look at you even a second too long at parties.

“and then we got back on the ship.” you twirl a finger absentmindedly over the blanket as you lay on your stomach on the bed. 

“did you eat baby?” rafe asks, his voice sounding strained.

“yes, of course.” you nod quickly despite rafe not being able to see you. “we went to the buffet and i got a chicken salad and then i even got dessert!” your exclaim, proud of yourself. “i got vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.”

“that's good, kid.” rafe let's out another sigh that has you pressing your ear into the phone, listening intensely to hear a weird somewhat wet sound that you can't place.

“keep-” rafe gasps out. “keep talking baby. tell me about-” he has to pause again as he grunts. “tell me about tomorrow.”

you instantly lose your suspicion as you let out another squeal. “rafey, you will never believe it!” you explain how you're going snorkeling in an area where people commonly see dolphins and you're really hoping you see them on the boat ride out to the reef.

you giggle with excitement, not realizing what your sounds are doing to rafe.

many hours away, back in the outer banks, rafe is laying on his bed, back propped up against the pillows, one hand holding his phone close to his ear while his other furiously strokes his cock.

it wasn't his intention when you first got on the phone, but hearing your sweet little voice had him pulling his cock out of his shorts.

“oh wow.” rafe says, tacking on a moan at the end that he hopes is disguised by his words.

rafe knows he's going to break the second you get back from your cruise. he's going to pick you up himself and bring you to the closest bed, even if it's a shitty motel. he's not even confident he'll make it that far without needing to take you. maybe the side of the highway will do.

you continue talking away about the itinerary, not a clue in the world that rafe is so close to ending the game you've been playing, the teasing about to come to a wicked end.

“are you in your pajamas?” rafe asks, interrupting you. but he doesn't care. he needs to know more.

“yup.” you say, popping your p’s. “been in my room for like half an hour now. it's so warm even with the ac blasting i'm wearing just a t-shirt.”

it's all rafe needs, the image of you splayed out on the bed with just a t-shirt on, pushed up to reveal your bare cunt and perfect tits. rafe doesn't hold back his sounds as much as he knows he should, grunting as he cums with a final stroke, releasing all over his abs.

“you okay rafey?” you question.

“im perfect, dollface.” rafe says, sighing as he lets go off his softening cock. 

“wanna switch to facetime?” you pout. “i miss looking at you.”

rafe switches without second thought, loving to see the way your eyes widen when you realize he's in bed shirtless, eyes squinting at the sticky white substance dotting his lower half.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @dityaadama @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Girlfriend Interrupted

Summary: Reader had a bad day at work and Spencer's complaints are not the best timing.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of food, hunger, and prolonged time without eating

Word count: 887

The bus rumbles across the old asphalt and bricked crosswalks while hissing at stops. All you could do was lay your head against the window and try not to fall asleep or accidentally smash it into the glass after hitting a precarious pothole. You were three stops away from home and all you wanted to do was lock yourself in the apartment and gorge on the least healthy meal you could find. 

You had a healthy meal planned for lunch today actually; a salad filled to the nines (the nines being roasted chicken, nuts, pomegranate, and honeydew). It was perfect. So perfect in fact that someone stole it from the fridge when you were in the middle of beating a deadline. And even after being successful in that, your boss still found time to yell at you for something another co-worker did. You weren’t sure which one, but it wasn’t you. You’ve been nibbling on a granola bar on the ride, but your mind is occupied by the leftover lasagna in the fridge.

And you find it there, waiting for you under the stark refrigerator light. You yank it from the bottom shelf and don’t even consider looking at the microwave. You barely looked at the dishes you left in the sink after breakfast this morning and remember how behind you were when getting ready for work, telling yourself you’d put them in the dishwasher before Spencer got home. You did say you’d do that. And Spencer doesn’t like dishes in the sink.

 Instead, you grab the blanket from the back of the couch and settle in the dark, pulling up a YouTube video you’ve been meaning to watch. You rest your phone against the book spines Spencer had specifically picked out to be displayed for their guests (mainly your parents during the holidays and his co-workers). Most of them are about astronomy, nothing you’ve cared to pick up. They’re detailed enough to keep Spencer entertained and sturdy enough to keep your phone upright while you slurped up tomato sauce and ricotta cheese. And so you snuggled in like a kid watching Saturday cartoons, sugary cereal at the ready.

And it’s when you think of your boyfriend again that the door behind you opens with a creak. The thud of his cane echoes across the wood floor as that same door clicks as he shuts it. You manage to say “Hey, Spence” through your glorious mouthful of a rushed dinner. But Spencer says nothing back. He’s been struggling not just with his knee acting up again after his previous surgery, but with being unable to travel with his team. The thud of Spencer’s cane trails from the entryway to the kitchen. It was a tough day for both of you, no doubt.

Your sympathies started to wane though when Spencer interrupted your video.

“Ugh, Y/N. I told you I don’t like dishes in the sink.”

“I know.” You tried to say without a mouthful. “And I’m sorry. I was running late for work and needed to get going before—”

“And you left the fridge door open, too. We talked about needing to cut back before our lease renewal. The National Weather Service expects an uptick in accumulation by late December.”

You pause your video and turn in your seat. “Sorry, I was going to do it when I got home, but I needed to eat because someone stole—”

“And you’re eating the lasagna from the tray? We have clean bowls. You could easily grab one from—”

“Let me talk!” You ended up shouting. It was sudden for both of you. You’re never one to raise your voice and Spencer has never been one to fuck up bad enough to witness it. It forces Spencer to freeze in place, like that accumulation he talked about just rushed through the apartment on your command. It would be funny if it was some sort of command if you already weren’t teetering on the edge of tears. The sting in your nose already started traveling to your eyes. They welled up and Spencer quickly became a blur as you started to sob, the trials of a bad day finally getting to you. You let your chest heave and tears streak down your cheeks, hoping at least a portion of the stress will subside afterward.

You didn’t expect Spencer to be right next to you. You didn’t hear his cane once on the floor. It was against the arm of the couch. And he was on the floor, resting on his knees. Of course, you’re too distressed to point out that is the last thing he should be doing if he wants to avoid more surgery so badly. Plus he’s busy with taking the meal off of your lap. “Come here,” he tells you. He’s holding your hands. His hands are just as frigid as the lasagna. But he pulls you up as he tries to stand, meeting you on (somewhat) equal footing to bring you into a hug. It’s warm, obviously. All of his hugs are warm. He wears cotton-only cardigans and wears layers of clothes even at the peak of summer. “I’m sorry.” He says. “Just let it out. I’m here.”

“Spence. Your knee.”

“It’s fine.”

“You need to—”

“Be here. Which I am.” And he holds you tighter.

[whomeidontknowthem]

Punishments

Content warning: discussion of past child abuse (physical and emotional), mentions of scars, starvation, punishments.

Caretaker saw the exact moment Whumpee's scarred hands relaxed, releasing the plate to its short attempt at flight. The shatter didn't even sound that loud with all the TV noise and running water in the background, but Caretaker felt his attention sharpen, focusing on the teen's face. Whumpee's expression was carefully neutral; only their eyes shined with something wild. Caretaker put the knife by the cutting board, turned the fire under the pan down and faced the kid.

"Okay," he said, keeping his voice level. "Why did you do that?"

Whumpee met his eyes with something like a challenge. "You have to punish me now," they stated, tone forcefully brave. Caretaker saw the way they shifted, moving their hands behind their back, hiding the way they had to shake.

He hummed, taking a moment to think the situation through. "I told you last time that I won't be punishing you."

"You said you wouldn't punish an accident," Whumpee corrected. "This isn't an accident. I did it on purpose. You saw it. You have to punish me now."

"I won't," Caretaker repeated. The kid stared at him, wide-eyed. He sighed, "I really did mean when I said it. There are no punishments here. I won't hurt you. We'll just clean up the glass together, and—"

"What if I refuse to clean," Whumpee demanded. Caretaker raised his brows before wrangling his expression back under control. It was nearly the first time Whumpee dared to interrupt — rude, definitely. It made them feel more like an actual teen. Teenagers just had to be bratty from time to time. It was healthy for them. Caretaker hadn't got to be a father to one, but he was sure of that.

"Well, then I'll have to clean it up by myself," He shrugged. He made sure to sound unbothered. "I'll have to do it before cooking, of course, so the dinner's gonna have to wait."

The kid seemed to freeze at that, their body going unnaturally still in a way that screamed Caretaker did something wrong. But before he could ask, Whumpee wondered, voice tight, "No dinner?"

Ah. "Of course not," Caretaker hurried to assure. Whumpee was still too thin, they'd been starved before. "There will be dinner, just slightly later without your help. You'll get to eat either way."

Caretaker smiled, hoping it would get the kid to relax. It didn't: their face only seemed to grow tenser. They stared at Caretaker, thinking about something. Then: "What if I break another plate?"

"Ah," Caretaker replied, lightly. "I would really rather you didn't? It would be rather inconvenient."

"What if I break two more?" The teen continued. "Three? All of them?" It sounded like a challenge. They moved their hand to where the clean plates stood in a nice careful stack, freshly washed and settled by the sink.

Caretaker took a deep breath. "I would really rather you didn't," he repeated. "Those cost money. We'll have to eat from the salad bowl and it won't be convenient, and then go to a shop to buy more."

"You'll have to punish me," Whumpee insisted.

"I won't hurt you, kid. No matter what you do—"

"What if I hurt you," they replied instantly and flinched, as if scared by their own forcefulness. Even then, they didn't back down. "What if I— if I punched you. You can't just let it go. What if I kick you or- or take the knife," they said and gestured to the counter, barely missing the cheerful cup with childish scribbles for a pattern perched at its edge.

Caretaker took a deep, deep breath and answered, weighing each word carefully, "if you attack me, I would have to stop you," he stated, as calmly as he could. The idea of having to fight the terrified kid with a knife was not an appealing one. He silently prayed it would not get to it. "I'd try to restrain you so you don't hurt me. I'd wait for you to calm down, and then we'd sit down to talk some more. I won't hurt you."

You're angry," Whumpee pointed.

Caretaker huffed, "I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm… Frustrated," he relented and sighed. He felt extremely unprepared for the conversation. "Look, kid. I know you expect me to be like that asshole. But I won't be. I'll try my damn hardest to make sure of that."

"You don't like this conversation," Whumpee stated, again.

Caretaker shook his head, "no."

"What if I make it continue? What if I anger you?"

"If you do anger me, I will leave the room until I calm down. I won't hurt you just because I don't like a conversation," Caretaker promised.

Whumpee stared at him, lips pressed tightly. They reached out and took the stack of plates.

Caretaker watched them closely. "Look, Whumpee…"

"You can't just let me act like this!" They yelled. Caretaker couldn't help their brows rising at the sudden shift in tone. As if the scream broke the dam, the other reactions poured out of them: the trembling fingers, the suddenly wet, shaky breaths, the need to blink and look up to hold back the tears. Caretaker shifted his weight, unsure if he should step closer or remain where he was. Even after months of living together, knowing whether the teen needed comfort or space at any given moment was beyond him.

He settled on continuing with the words, "Whumpee. Even if I disapprove of your actions, I will not hurt you for them. I'll talk to you, I'll ask you to help clean up afterwards, I'll try to help you find out what's wrong and how to make it better so you don't have to throw dishes around. I will not hurt you."

"But what if it doesn't make me learn? What if I don't follow the rules, and- and act like a brat and I don't listen to you and I never- I never stop? You'll have to punish me, you'll have to get rid of me, you can't just- you can't just let me do whatever! You can't just! How can I learn if there's no punishment!"

"You've learned how to wash dishes well enough," Caretaker pointed out.

"It's different!"

"How so?"

Whumpee stared at him, and seemed to come up with no answer. Their fingers slackened around the stack, and Caretaker mentally prepared to not react when all of the dishes inevitably touched the floor. Whumpee sucked in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob and settled the plates back onto the counter. "I don't understand," they slumped above the dishes.

"It's okay," Caretaker assured them. "You don't have to understand for it to be true." He let out a tentative breath and stepped closer, carefully choosing empty spots between the broken glass, but didn't reach out to touch. By now, he knew well enough not to — he'd been witness to how even the most innocuous of actions could throw them off and straight into panic, especially when they were already agitated.

"It isn't," they didn't look at him. "It's not how it works. You can't possibly expect to raise a— you had a daughter, hadn't you?" Caretaker froze, glad that the teen couldn't see his face. She was not a topic either of them breached; Whumpee knew she'd died; they knew the thought was still upsetting for Caretaker and were careful to never bring it up despite how obvious the ghost of her existence was still around the house in every bright colored piece of wallpaper and childish drawing kept on the wall. They continued on, either ignorant to his reaction or choosing to ignore it. "Surely you didn't just allow her to do whatever! There need to be rules, need to be limitations and consequences!"

"Whatever was given to you as 'rules and consequences' wasn't that, kid," Caretaker leaned on the counter and studied the ceiling. "Discipline isn't an excuse for cruelty."

"You have to have punished her."

"I have," he admitted and turned to the teen only for his gaze to settle on the cheerful little cup. "I wasn't as good of a father as I hoped I'd be. Children are frustrating — they are meant to be. If I knew how little time we had — how precious she was even at her worst, — maybe I'd have acted differently. God knows I wish I have. Whether she'd lived for longer or, well..." he swallowed. Shook his head. "You deserve better, anyway, and so — I'm trying."

"...Whumper said he loved me. This was why he had to make sure I had motivation to learn to be better. To not be a brat. He wanted me to be good."

Caretaker studied the face of the teen — the lines around their eyes and mouth despite the calm voice. The way they gripped the edge of the countertop and didn't seem to see anything before them. He sighed, deeply, and stated, "He was a fool and an asshole."

Whumpee didn't answer that, only tightened the grip. Caretaker had never heard them say a single bad word about Whumper. Despite the scars and the panic attacks, they seemed determined to never acknowledge the harm they had suffered; whether the kid genuinely didn't blame him or just kept their thoughts to themself, Caretaker couldn't know.

He hoped the latter was the case. Whumpee deserved to know that the way they were treated was not right.

"He wanted a perfect child that would never misbehave or bother him, and it's not possible. Hell, even an adult can't just never bother anyone else. We are all nuisances to each other. He demanded you weren't and punished you for not achieving the impossible all the time. It's on him, not on you."

The teen listened, Caretaker could tell, thought about it, seriously considered the idea for a while.

"Nobody would want a child who doesn't behave," they stated finally.

Caretaker huffed, frustrated. "If someone only wants a perfect child, they shouldn't be a parent to begin with."

"You wanted your daughter to—"

"I did not!"

They froze after that, both of them.

Caretaker slowly breathed out and unclenched his fists. He shouldn't be angry, he reminded himself. He shouldn't — the kid needed him to be calm and comforting. The memories of his daughter, taken from him so young, too young, by an illness he noticed too late, clung to his mind, too close and too real and too painful. He rubbed his eyes.

"Sorry, kid, I didn't mean to yell," he turned to Whumpee. They were still unmoving, still tense, as if waiting for a strike. Caretaker felt a wave of guilt wash over him. This child needed him to be much, much better. At moments as such he wondered how anyone could think that he could do this. How anyone could trust him with a kid at all, after he'd already failed once. There had to be someone better, he thought. There had to be.

"Let's just finish dinner together and go watch some movie, what do you think?" he proposed, keeping the tone light. If Whumpee heard how forced it sounded, they didn't show it.

The teen turned, slowly, avoiding looking at Caretaker. He kept the smile on his lips, hands relaxed where Whumpee could see them. That was it. They would go watch a movie and spend time together and talk later, when both have calmed down somewhat.

Whumpee put their hand atop the counter. Before Caretaker could react, they jerked it. Before Caretaker could react, his favorite cup, the one his daughter took such pleasure decorating, was already flying towards the floor. It shatter sounded like thunder in his ears.

Caretaker breathed in. Counted to ten. Breathed out. Repeated, over and over, eyes focused on the colorful shards, until he was certain he could keep his tone calm.

"This," he didn't raise his head but heard the teen step away, "was a jerk move."

"I'm so—" they stopped themself before the apology was out and gritted their teeth. Caretaker breathed, and then breathed some more, and even longer still, pushing down every bit of irritation and anger. Teens were meant to be bratty. Children were meant to be a bothersome nuisance that tested the patience of every adult stuck to be responsible for them.

Whumpee needed him to be calm. Needed to learn they were safe even if they misbehaved.

"Will you help me pick up the glass?" He finally raised his gaze. Whumpee was pale, eyes wide and lips tightly pressed in a scared line. They held his gaze and shook their head even as they stepped backwards, determination mixed with panic.

"It's okay," Caretaker kept his voice calm. "If you don't want to help, go watch some TV, will you? I'll call you when dinner is ready."

Whumpee stepped backwards again, flickering their gaze towards the living room before settling on watching his movements again. He raised his hands slowly and didn't move any closer.

"I'm still not going to hurt you." They didn't look like they believed, so he added, "I'm mad. You knew it was important to me and you knew it'd... hurt me." He relaxed his face as it contorted into a grimace. "I hope you don't do anything like this again. You're not getting punished. The dinner will be ready in an hour. I would appreciate some space until then. But if you need something, you can still come to me."

They watched him for long moments before slowly backing out of the kitchen. They didn't look away until they were behind the corner, and only they did Caretaker release a heavy, frustrated sigh.

Teenagers. Dealing with a teenager, especially such a traumatized one, was definitely far beyond what he was ever prepared to do.

He picked up the glass — both the plate and the cup combined — one little piece after the other, careful of the sharp edges. The cup had shattered into six bigger pieces, the silly snake with google eyes around the handle left unharmed while Caretaker had to try to put together the stick figures holding hands under a tree. There were still parts missing, the pieces so small he had little hope of finding them.

He sighed. Threw all of the glass in the trash bin. Vacuumed the spot quickly. Continued chopping the vegetables.

When he called Whumpee for dinner, they didn't respond. Caretaker could hear the TV still speaking in the living room but no sound from the teenager. It was normal, though, they were often awfully quiet.

He found them, huddled in a blanket and staring at the screen with unseeing eyes, when he brought two plates to the couch. They jerked when the cushion shifted under his weight and eyed Caretaker warily.

"You should eat," he pushed a plate across the coffee table, and they picked it up after a few bits of hesitation.

The dinner passed in silence, as did the rest of the evening. Caretaker put the plates away himself, ignoring the way the kid tensed when he moved closer to them, then returned to the couch, settling at the far corner. When he noticed Whumpee glance towards him, he patted the cushion at his side and put an arm over the sofa's back, but didn't insist when the kid quickly looked away.

They watched the TV in silence. It took the teen half an hour to move slightly closer, and even longer before they were sitting truly by his side. Caretaker kept his eyes on the screen as he dropped his arm over their shoulders in a semblance of a hug. They tensed immediately, breath hitching like an animal caught in a trap, and the man wondered if it was a mistake. If he'd overstepped and the kid needed something else from him. He debated pulling away and apologizing, but Whumpee beat him to it. He let them go the moment they moved away.

They returned a few minutes later, and only moved closer when he hugged them this time. They were choosing to come and were allowed to be as close or as distant as they needed, Caretaker tried to convey, keeping their arms loose. They were welcomed anyway, he tried to say through the gentle long strokes down their back as Whumpee pressed close to him.

They fought very hard to keep their sobs silent despite the shaking shoulders. Caretaker didn't comment on the growing wet patch on his chest, only kept them close and safe in his arms as the precious, bothersome and loved despite that kid they were.

When three days later he came from work to the sight of a cheerful cup at the table, he didn't recognize it for what it was the first few minutes. It was too familiar, had been a constant of his life for years, and as much as he'd missed it before it wasn't until he reached out to pour hot coffee in it that his brain caught up with it being back.

He stared at the snake's googly eyes and the uneven glue lines keeping the glass together.

It was hideous, truly. The scribbles had never been the pinnacle of artistry to begin with, and it was obvious the teen had never had to glue anything together in their whole life, and they definitely didn't think about polishing it or even just flattening the glue chunks. And it certainly wasn't usable anymore. Caretaker would not risk neither poisoning nor it falling apart in his hands from the boiling water.

It was absolutely perfect.

A work of his two kids, coming together despite the time and never having met.

He grinned as he put it as a centerpiece on a shelf where everyone could see it.

Maybe he was doing something right, after all.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sounds like a date

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is sharing food' rated g | 743 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Can I have a fry?" Eddie asked with his mouth half full of the last fry he'd stolen off Steve's plate.

"Why didn't you just get your own fries?" Steve asked, handing him a fry from his plate.

"Because I only wanted a couple and you always share with me," Eddie shoved the fry into his mouth.

That was true; Steve always shared his food when they were having their usual date night at the diner. In fact, he pretty much only got fries because he knew Eddie would want some.

He preferred just eating his turkey club sandwich and smiling over at Eddie who always ordered two milkshakes because he could never decide on a flavor, a cheeseburger, onion rings that he complained were soggy every time, and a chef salad for balance.

Eddie never finished his food, or the milkshakes, but he always finished Steve's fries.

So it became an unspoken routine, something Steve wasn't even sure Eddie noticed even after months of doing it. Robin said he was a sap for doing it, but he didn't care.

"How's the chocolate shake?" Steve asked as Eddie dipped another stolen fry into it. "Good with the fries?"

"Yeah, but the strawberry is better. They didn't add extra chocolate syrup this time," Eddie half-pouted, as if he didn't complain about their lack of chocolate in the chocolate shake every time he ordered it.

"Can I have a sip of your Coke?" Eddie asked after another minute of stealing fries from Steve's plate.

Steve wordlessly handed his cup over, surprised it took him this long to ask for it. He usually asked way before he'd even started on the fries.

Eddie, as expected, took a few large sips, almost draining the rest of the drink.

"Why doesn't the waitress ever bring us napkins?" Eddie asked as he set the cup back down in front of Steve.

Steve handed him one of the napkins he'd grabbed from the table they passed on the way to their own. The waitress did always forget to bring them, so Steve prepared.

"You're so good to me," Eddie smirked, brushing his foot against Steve's ankle under the table.

Steve was pretty sure the waitress knew what was going on between them and just hadn't bothered to say anything, and the rest of the diner was empty. Their date night was pretty late, right after Eddie's Hellfire night with the kids that always seemed to go longer and longer. It was damn near midnight now, most of the town in bed, the rest up to no good somewhere else.

It was peaceful, being here with Eddie like this.

It was a look at a future they could have, at least a version of it, though neither of them planned on staying in Hawkins forever.

Steve slid his plate of the few remaining fries over to Eddie and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Finish 'em. I'm done."

"You didn't even eat any," Eddie pointed out before grabbing another one.

"Wasn't that hungry, I guess."

"Mhm," Eddie smirked knowingly, but didn't comment further.

"All set for the bill?" The waitress came by to ask, tapping her pen against the pad of paper. "Who gets it tonight?"

Eddie pointed at Steve, like he did every single week they did this.

Steve took the bill from her hand like he did every single week.

He pulled out his wallet, grabbed the $10 in cash he always kept there for date night, and handed it back to her.

Eddie waited until she walked away to pull out his wallet, grabbing $2 for a tip.

"You know at some point, you may have to actually pay for a date," Steve said as he slipped his jacket on.

"Maybe," Eddie shrugged, like he knew Steve loved paying for their date, made him feel like he could provide. Eddie joked it was his inner caveman. "Maybe I'll just take us on a nice road trip with all this money I'm savin'."

"Oh?" Steve froze.

Eddie looked back at him, beaming smile.

"Yeah. Next month sound good to you? A tour of diners across the midwest. Every night is date night. All my treat," Eddie suggested, like he'd already had this planned for a while. "I'd love to steal your fries in new places, Stevie."

Steve felt himself blushing, somehow always surprised at the lengths Eddie went to to make him feel so loved.

"Sounds like a date."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note:Double does of Andricus.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“My lawyer will hear about this!” Your mother snarls and you shy away. 

She always has to make a scene. You don’t even understand why she’s doing this. All they did was forget to put a fork in the bag. The poor employee behind the counter looks ready to snap as they wipe their sweaty hands on their apron. 

“My daughter is sick and you can’t remember a fork! It’s so much for her to come back in here!” She snarls. 

“Mom, I could wait in the car--” 

“Be quiet. Oh yes, I want corporate’s number, right now. I will be certain my attorney gives them a call about you...” she squints at the girl’s name tag, “Tina!” 

“Mom, please,” you pout. 

“Oh honey,” she turns and pets your head dramatically, then look at the worker as she cradles your face and adjusts the tube under your nose, “look at her. Look what you’re doing to her.” 

You hold back the flood of tears. You hate when she does this. You just want to be invisible but she always has to make you front and centre. She always has to tell everyone how sick and helpless you are. 

“Mom,” you moan. 

“Ugh, whatever,” she tears away and snaps her fingers, “give me the fork. And I expect a complimentary salad as well.” 

“Ma’am, we can’t do that,” Tina says dully. 

“What do you mean you can’t do that?” 

“Here,” Tina reaches under the counter and pulls out a card, “that’s the number for head office. I’ll grab you a fork.” 

She turns and takes out one of the bamboo forks. Your mother snarls and squeezes the card until it folds. She snatches the fork and throws it back at the worker. 

“Are you kidding? She can’t eat with this! She’ll get splinters.” 

“I want to go, mom,” you whine. 

She shrugs off your touch on her arm, “Mr. Barber, DA, will hear about this!” 

She stomps and spins. You turn slowly to follow as she’s already halfway to the door. You're already forgotten. You roll your tank with you as you curl your shoulders and awkwardly angle it through the door. 

Your mom’s a bluffer. Andy isn’t the DA. Not yet. He’s only the assistant. And he isn’t her lawyer. Not anymore. Once she won the lawsuit against the hospital, he traded in that title for boyfriend. And now she has a ring on her finger which means he’s soon be stepdad. You don’t think you can ever call him that.  

You avoid him as much as you can. Not because you dislike him, because you don’t know him. Aside from him coaching you to take the stand, you didn’t know much about him. You don’t have the energy to know more. Besides, he isn’t there for you. You’re just the unfortunate burden left for your mother to care for. 

You get to the car, heart racing, and shake as you struggle to get the door open. Your mother has the engine rumbling already and you can barely move around as you’re too dizzy to set your feet. You fall into the seat and strain to drag the oxygen tank between your legs. You really should have more space. 

You wiggle your chafed nose. Your mouth and nostrils are always painfully dry. You get your belt on and reach into the belt bag you keep on you at all times. You santize your hands from the mini bottle then take out the vaseline to apply to your dry skin. 

You lurch back as your mother veers out of the lot. You jostle with the movement and struggle to put the cap back on the tin. You tuck it away at last as her bluetooth dials out. 

“Andrew,” your mother greets the Assistant DA before he can speak. He sighs. You’ve heard him tell her over and over not to call him that. “You won’t believe what just happened. The way they gawk at us when we’re just trying to live like normal people!” 

She squawks on in one of her rants and you can only sit there and listen along with the man at the other end of the call. In the background, you make out the shuffle of paper and typing of keys. You shift as your mother cranks the real and you hear something rustle. You look back and groan. 

“Mom, the food spilled,” you utter. 

“Andrew!” She ignores you as she grips the steering wheel tighter, “are you even listening?” 

“Yeah, I heard. The food spilled. Why don’t you come by the office? I’m just finishing up. I’ll just take you ladies out.” He offers. 

You really don’t want that. You don’t like to go out. You only went to the wrap shop because your mom insisted after your last appointment. You’re always exhausted after all the tests. 

“Oh, gosh, that would be lovely,” she trills, “how about it, honey?” She doesn’t wait for your answer. “I’ll head over there right now. I hope you don’t mind, I won’t have time to change. We had a long day with the doctor.” 

“That’s fine. I just need to send these notes over and I’ll be all done,” he explains. “How about you, sweetheart? Feeling up to some linguine?” 

You don’t realise he’s talking to you until he says your name clearly. You gulp, “yes, sir.” 

“Oh, silly,” your mom reaches over to swat you, “she still calls you that.” 

He chuckles from the other end, “big changes. We’re all adjusting. Anyway, see you shortly. I got someone at my door.” 

“Bye, sweetie,” she sings and the line dies. 

She huffs and rolls her eyes. Her smile falls away. “I bet it’s that damned legal aid. Have you seen the way she dresses? Oh, how she flutters her eyes at my fiance?” 

You just grumble and nod. As usual, she isn’t looking for two-sided conversation. She tells, she doesn’t talk. 

“This will be nice. A family dinner. All of us. Honey, you really do need to loosen up with him. The wedding will be here before we know it.” 

You shrug, “I know. I’m not... I’m trying.” 

“I know, I know. The case was so much and then to think, it brought us all together. But this is the best we can hope for. The settlement is great but taking care of you, it’s so much. It’ll be nice to have help,” she chatters on. 

You zone out her usual gripes. She has a way of complaining about you without really saying it outright. You know you’ve made her life harder. Always sick, always helpless. You asked her to hire you a nurse with the settlement but she convinced you to put the money in a trust. It will be worth much more in ten years, honey... 

She pulls around the building with its staunch white pillars. The sight of them casts a wave of deja vu over you. You thought once all was said and done in court, you’d never have to come there again. It’s humiliating enough to be gawked at in public but to be put in front of an audience like that... 

You’re just sensitive. That’s what your mom says. She’s right. You wouldn’t know. You’ve never had to be on your own. She’s always been the one doing everything. 

She parks and gets out and you carefully lift your tank out of the car, not wanting to touch the cold shell. You stand and lean on it, rolling it ahead of you. You follow her inside as she hardly misses a beat. You can hardly keep up. 

She steps onto the elevator and tuts at you to hurry up. You get on and she hits the buttons impatiently. You get off on a floor, letting her lead you as you keep your head down. Her clicking heels keep you in line. 

“Danica,” Andy greets your mom by name, “just in time.” 

“Mm, there you are,” her response is curt.  

You look up at Andy as he leans on the desk of his aide. She’s a pretty blond woman named Gwen with shiny nails. She smiles as he stands on his own weight. 

“How are you?” Andy offers a one-armed hug. 

“Good,” she wraps him up and plants a kiss on his cheek as he dodges her lips. “How are you, sweetie?” 

“Tired, long day,” he replies stiffly. He looks at you, “hey, you look beat.” 

“A little,” you mutter. 

“You sure you’re up to it? We can just order in,” he offers. 

“I’m okay,” you say as your mother looks at you sharply. Better to just do what she wants. 

“I don’t mind,” he insists. 

“Oh, but sweetie, you said we’d go out. Don’t you want to have a nice dinner with your fiancee?” She smirks at Gwen. 

You want to turn into dust. This is torturous. You’re light-headed and uncomfortable. Andy keeps his arm around your mom, “see ya, Gwen. You get going. I don’t want people thinking I’m a tryant.” 

He struts towards you and puts his hand on your arm to turn you around. You walk beside him and his touch falls to your lower back. You want to pull away but you can’t. The wheels on your tank squeak with each step. 

You’re happy to detach from Andy as the elevator doors open. You wait and your mom steps on first by Andy doesn’t. He waves you in ahead of him and grunts. He doesn’t rsay anything to your mom but you can sense tension. 

“How about I drive? You can come with me in the morning and get your car,” Andy suggests, “save some mileage.” 

“Oh, that would be so nice. I’d love some chardonnay with dinner,” she bubbles. 

He steps between you and taps the button. His sleeve brushes you as you hunch lower. Your head is really bugging you. You just want to sleep. Or maybe you’re just hungry. 

“Looks like it hurt,” Andy points to your bandaged hand. You peek at it and shake your head. 

“IV. Just bruised,” you answer. 

“Ah, no fun,” he remarks. “Well, now you don’t have to worry about the hospital bills, huh? Got you all tucked away.” 

“It’s so wonderful,” your mom latches onto his arm. “You take such good care of us, baby.” 

“Mm, doing my best. Can’t be easy with a sick kid.” 

“No, no, not easy. But oh, you helped so much. I mean, how dare that hospital just dismiss us like that. They could’ve killed her. Malpractice if I ever saw it, and you would know, being a lawyer and all,” she says tritely. 

You stay silent. You don’t like talking about it. It’s over, so why do you have to keep reliving it? She seemed to bask in the attention it got her while you hated every minute of it. 

As you stare at the bottom of the doors, you feel a tickle on your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. You think, at first, it’s a stray hair. You glance over and find Andy rubbing his finger against your hand. You grip the handle of your tank tighter and swallow. What is he doing? 

He stands with his head straight, his shoulders high, as if he’s doing nothing at all. Maybe he doesn’t realise. You don’t move. You’re frozen in indecision. You don’t want to pull away in case you embarrass him. 

Surely, it’s unintentional. You’re just some sick woman still living with her mother. You’re frail and helpless and you can’t even breathe on your own. 

No, it’s just a mistake. A mix-up. He’s probably lost in thought, the way he gets. When he sits and stares at you but sees nothing at all. 

The elevator opens and he rescinds his touch. He waves you through first, and you shuffle ahead of him. Your mom follows and he brings up the rear. You need to sit down soon. 

You go outside into the cool evening air and make your way to his car. Your mother stomps ahead in her heels but he stays at a pace with you. You can never keep up. As you reach his SUV, you hesitate. You forget how much bigger his car is. So high up. 

“Can I help?” He offers as he follows you to the back door. He opens it for you as you spin your tank around. 

“I’m... okay,” you lift the tank first and he quickly scoops his hand under the wheels to help. You grab onto the door to haul yourself up. His hand brushes your hip as you do and you swing into the seat. “Thanks.” 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he lays his hand on your knee and gives a quick squeeze. “You sure you don’t need anything?” 

You shake your head and close your eyes. You’re completely worn out. You need to save what little you have left for dinner. 

“Alright,” he lets go and shuts the door.  

He gets in the front as your mother hums, “let’s go. I’m starving.” 

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | TWO

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 18.2K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, halloween, drinking alcohol, perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, smart girl, etc), pinch of sexting and unintentional phone sex, office head (giving and receiving), fingering, praise, unprotected sex, riding, jealousy, blackmail, good ol' porn with plot ♡ A/N - my goodness thank you for 1000+ notes ♡ sorry it's so long but I appreciate the patience!! the school semester timeline in this is kinda unrealistic but ignore that, fictional romance has no bounds LOL. This might end up 4 parts instead of 3, we'll see what my brain figures out.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“I’m starting to think you’re kidnapping me.”

For the past 30 minutes into this drive, something Yunho had initially assured you wouldn’t take long, you’ve been alternating between staring out of the window at your surroundings slowly becoming unfamiliar and the small bouquet of flowers sitting in your lap. Even as you gaze at him inquisitively, he doesn’t move his attention away from the road. When he doesn't answer for longer than what you deem appropriate, your brows flicker up in amusement. That gets his attention.

“Oh, right, that’s a bad thing,” he clears his throat dramatically, though you know he’s just poking fun at your impatience, “I suppose I could ruin the surprise if you’re getting restless.”

“No, I’m not! I’m just very curious why it’s so far away,” you stop him quickly. That’s absolutely a reasonable question and Yunho decides to give you the answer.

“I know I said I wanted to be discreet but…” he pauses and sighs, shaking his head, “I just can’t. Figured the next best thing would be to just leave our area for the day and do something fun around strangers instead. I just want us to be comfortable, I guess.”

“You really weren’t kidding about being thoughtful, huh?” You hum softly, hand finding his own sitting on the gear shift. He allows you to thread his fingers between yours without hesitation.

“I meant everything I said, yes.”

“I guess I can be patient then,” you feign annoyance, rolling your eyes. 

The earnest laugh that your silliness evokes from him fills the car and makes the atmosphere even warmer than before. The gift of flowers had already charmed you upon getting into his car, so you can’t imagine that there’s something even better waiting for you at the end of the drive. As much as you’d love to know what this man had settled on within the last few days, you allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of being whisked away and surprised instead. In the meantime, you busy yourself again by humming to his radio and continuing to survey your surroundings passing by quickly the further you drive.

There are many things Yunho is good at and he’s a very intelligent man, but cooking is just not one of those things. Because of this, he generally eats out instead of bothering with making food. This is particularly one of the reasons why he never had an issue when it came to eating dinner with you outside of his home. He supposes if he wants to be a proper and worthy bachelor, he should learn one of these days not to add too much salt to soup, or how to properly fry an egg without burning it to a crisp. Today’s decision to take you both to a cooking class is motivated by those circumstances. Sushi shouldn’t be that hard to master, right?

It begins easily enough. 

Each group has an individual station, and the class starts with a simple seaweed salad as an appetizer. He makes sure to follow all the instructions to a T, his only deviation being adding a dash of red pepper flakes because he likes spice. Yunho’s already so used to you asking for a taste of his food that he immediately goes to share his final product without you even asking.

While you’re still mixing your own he beckons for your attention, holding out a bite with his chopsticks, “Open.”

This is something you’ve done before, yes, but only a few times. It’s a bit more embarrassing though while doing such a thing in front of other people, and he can’t help but notice how you can’t look him directly in the eyes while obliging him. You’re so cute when you’re shy.

“How does it taste?” He asks before you can even get to chewing, but he’s a bit nervous that you might spit it out before he does.

When you do get to chew and swallow, he’s surprised to see your eyes light up, “Wow that’s delicious, Yu!” 

Asking him for another bite inflates his ego just a pinch too much, but he can’t help it when you’re praising him for his work. Maybe to hide his inability to cook anything else he’d simply make you seaweed salad for the rest of your life. Yeah, that sounds nice… He tries to suppress the confident smirk tugging at his lips and hypes himself up for the rest of the lesson. After everyone in the room has wrapped up that portion of the lesson, the instructor moves forward with beginning the sushi crafting.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you meet your friends?” You inquire in a low voice while the instructor carries on about how much rice is an appropriate amount, clarifying, “Mr. Park and Mr. Choi.”

“I met both in college, but I met Seonghwa first,” he muses, “I was a sophomore and he was a junior, and we both happened to choose the same music elective that year.”

“What the hell is a linguist doing in a music class? Felt adventurous that year?”

“I’m quite the singer actually,” Yunho reveals with a confident smile, but his arms cease their rice flattening when he hears you try to stifle laughter. His brows crinkle as he peers over at you with a prominent pout tugging at his lips, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I do, it’s just–” You give him a once over. “I’m imagining this angelic voice coming out of you and it’s really cute.”

“Angelic…” he muses, then turns back to flattening his rice and smiles to himself, “I guess I’ll have to show you one day and you can determine that for yourself.”

“I’d love that, actually.”

The instructor announces that next you’ll be slicing up salmon and avocado to put inside your rolls. You and Yunho work diligently on splitting the filet of salmon provided between each other to see who can do it best and follow her lead once more. 

“Continue the story,” you whisper to him once the instructor gives the last of her enthusiastic pitches on how to glide the knife through in one stroke for each piece, “What happened after music class?”

“Well, we became friends after pairing up for a duet project… and then we met San the following year after he hired Seonghwa for tutoring in history.” Yunho pauses for a moment to put an immense amount of concentration into his first slice, which still definitely ends up way too thick. “He did things like that on the side for money sometimes. Put up posters in the cafes and everything.”

Even though you’re also concentrating, you nod so he knows you’re paying attention. Unlike Yunho, you seem to have picked up on the cutting technique pretty quickly. His eyes keep flickering back and forth between your work and his, and he huffs in dissatisfaction.

“Sheesh, that was quite some time ago,” you state absentmindedly.

“Excuse me, are you calling me old?”

“Possibly.”

For the nonchalant jab at his confidence, Yunho nudges your cutting arm mid-slice and causes you to abruptly cut the current piece in half. The flabbergasted look on your face and the way your mouth drops open at a loss for words makes him giggle.

“I’m so sorry beautiful, it’s these old brittle bones,” he feigns remorse, lips pulling into a dishonest pout when you glare at him, “Can never keep my balance these days with them, you know?”

“Maybe they’re also the reason your slices look as big as filets,” you quip back, “Might as well throw those on the grill, right?”

Yunho’s pout turns genuine. You only apologize because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you both agree to let you cut the salmon while he works on the avocados instead. It doesn’t take long before you’re finished placing the necessary ingredients onto your rice and following the instructor's words on how to successfully roll it all together. This is something that Yunho is actually able to do decently, and he marvels at the way he’s got a genuine sushi roll in front of his eyes made from his own hands. Moving forward, his mind is consumed with cutting it into perfect bite-sized pieces when you tap his shoulder.

“Hey, do you like soy sauce on your sushi?”

“Sometimes, why?” He replies, and when he turns around to peer down at you he’s met with a pair of chopsticks holding up something for him to try. 

You smile in place of instruction, but he opens his mouth without even having to be told to do so. Unlike you, he doesn’t mind holding eye contact while you feed him. It feels intimate even with strangers around you. Dozens of butterflies manifest in your stomach and go into even more of a frenzy when he sighs in contentment. He’ll be nice and pretend he didn’t see the way you swallow the lump in your throat. 

That’s when you notice you put just a little too much soy sauce on his piece, and your thumb casually swipes the excess from the corner of his mouth. It’s an action that should be helpful and innocent, but you put your thumb in your mouth to lick it clean without even thinking. He absolutely takes notice. Every time Yunho thinks he’s got the upper hand in wooing you, you make him lose his cool so easily.

“Your face is red. Was it too salty?”

Yunho clears his throat and shakes his head hastily when he sees you’re genuinely concerned. He really wants nothing more than to kiss you at this moment, but that would have to wait until you both are alone. The rest of the class goes by quickly when tasked with making a different sushi roll and some strawberry-matcha ice cream for dessert. Yunho thinks he might see a hint of disappointment on your face when things come to an end and you have to take off your aprons. 

“There’s a park not too far away from here if you’re okay with walking for a bit. Burn off some calories?” Yunho proposes when you both finally leave the building, and you nod eagerly. For the second time today, you link fingers and begin your venture.

The walk ends up being a bit longer than you both expect, but it doesn’t take much time to find a secluded spot where you could have some privacy when there. It’s fairly brisk today, so when Yunho removes his jacket to grant you a clean place to sit on the grass, you immediately tell him you don’t mind sitting on the ground at all, that you’d rather him be warm. He assures you that he’s not cold at all (a big fat lie) and doesn’t mind getting a little dirt on his pants, so you give in and situate yourself on his jacket. The silence between you both is comfortable, filled with the sounds of people playing somewhere nearby and birds occupying trees in the branches lingering over you. You debate about striking up more conversation about his past, but he beats you to the punch on speaking.

“I haven’t done this in a while you know,” Yunho suddenly divulges, “Have you?”

“Gone on a date?” When he nods you shake your head, “No, actually. Haven’t met anyone worth going past the texting phase, to be honest... Well, besides that one day.”

You feel a bit guilty when still having to lie about that phony date that led to your first dinner together, but it’s not like it’s something you can change now. 

“As bad as it sounds… I’m glad you got stood up that day,” his eyes fall to his lap when he mumbles this. He hopes that doesn’t come across negatively.

The corners of your mouth tug into a smile at his honesty. Maybe one day in the future you’d gain enough courage to tell him it was a lie. You wonder if he would genuinely be upset… Though, you suppose you’re thinking way too far ahead into the future for those kinds of worries. 

Instead of dwelling on it, you simply say, “I am too, Yu.”

“You’ve been using that nickname more often,” he points out after a moment of thought, “Any particular reason?”

“It’s just a habit when we get alone… helps me separate you from how I know you on campus,” you reply and glance over at him apprehensively, “I’m sorry, it probably sounds too childish, right? I can stop.”

“No no, I prefer when you call me Yu,” he admits, palm digging into the grass as he leans back on his arm with a sigh, “Everybody else calls me Yunho, Mr. Jeong, whatever.”

“Am I not in the same category as everybody else?”

“Not at all,” he professes without any hesitation, lolling his head to the side to finally peer back at you. The soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth makes your heart stutter. 

“Duly noted,” is all you’re able to mumble back. When his eyes go from surveying your face for any unease at his bluntness to zeroing in on your lips, you can’t help the heat manifesting in your cheeks.

“Are you comfortable if I kiss you?”

“I feel like we’re way past that step, no?” You quirk a brow.

“Was more so asking since we’re technically in public, but I suppose that’s also true,” he laughs softly, leaning over and pressing his lips to yours before you can reply to him with any nonsense.

His lips are always so soft and plush, and it’s so juxtaposed with the way he kisses you with intensity and clear intent. He’s never really hesitant of himself when you both kiss, never thinking twice about selfishly stealing your air, despite any anxiety he may have about your situation inside of himself. He’s a bit too enamored with the way your tongue still tastes like strawberry matcha to realize that his free hand has dipped under the hem of your dress, fingertips creeping and leaving a trail of heat as they inch further and further up your thigh. As much as you’d love to indulge him, your nerves won’t let you, no matter how secluded your spot might be.

Your hand wraps around his wrist gently, giggling onto his lips as you warn him, “Don’t get any funny ideas. Like you said, we’re in public.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he sighs reluctantly. He can’t deny that he’s slightly embarrassed for even letting his hands move with a mind of their own. There’s just something about you that makes him feel like he doesn’t have to think so hard when you’re around, and it makes him lose his senses in the process. Everything just feels natural. An affectionate smile plays at his lips while he rubs the material of your dress between his fingers, “It’s getting pretty late, the sun is setting.”

“Let’s head back before the traffic gets too crazy then, yeah?” You propose and he nods silently before pushing one last peck to your lips.

The drive back to your apartment feels much quicker than it did leaving, and this stirs up a hint of despondency in your stomach. It feels like your time with him has ended just as soon as it started, but you suppose you should appreciate the full day you did get to spend with him. Still, you know something like today won’t happen that often, and it makes you a bit sad the closer you get to your building. 

Like the gentlemen he is, Yunho walks with you up to the second floor and to your door, hands shoved deep in his pockets while he debates on how to say bye. He doesn’t know if he should kiss you goodbye when anybody could be watching now that you’re back in the area. Then again, he supposes even walking you up to your place was risky to begin with. While he’s debating over these things in his mind, you’ve already opened your front door. He doesn’t even realize you’re staring at him until you call his name, to which he’s subsequently sputtering a bunch of apologies after being caught overthinking. 

“Why don’t you come inside for a little bit,” you hum, more as an instruction than a request. 

Yunho’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek in rumination over the various prospects of what exactly coming inside could entail, but the way you’re gazing at him with those beguiling eyes is already luring him in before his thoughts can get the best of him. His feet move on their own, taking tentative steps into your abode with an overwhelming feeling of excitement pooling in his chest. The sound of the front door being locked is followed by you coming up behind him and wrapping your hands around his torso. It’s very sweet, the way you bury your head in his back and squeeze him in an endearing hug.

“I really enjoyed today,” you tell him as best you can with your cheek still squished against his back. You feel the warm chuckle he lets out reverberating through his back. He wishes he could reciprocate your hug, but it seems you’re intent on staying behind him.

He settles for saying, “Thank you for giving me the chance to fix things, ____. I just wanted to show you that you mean a lot to me.”

Then, there’s a beat of silence, and he wonders if everything is okay. Maybe that was too much…

“What’s your day look like tomorrow?” you suddenly ask softly, and Yunho's eyes fall to watch as your hands drop and ghost around his belt. 

His Adam's Apple bobs anxiously before he answers in an equally soft voice, “Sundays I… I usually prepare my slides and lesson plans for the week. Meet with the boys in the evening after I’m done for some drinks…”

Your hands gently undo his belt as he’s talking, humming “ mhm ” every few words to let him know you’re indeed listening. 

“Maybe you should leave in the morning then,” you propose, fingers gently popping open the button of his pants. You can feel him take a deep inhale the moment you finally gently tug at his zipper.

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

That night, Yunho learns several things about you.

He gets to learn the ins and outs of your gag reflex. You have a slight affinity with deep-throating your partners, and he falls in love with the view of you even trying to with tears in the corners of your eyes. The way your lips stretch around his thick cock… It’s an image he stores in his mental album of you for later use.

He gets to learn about the tattoo you have hidden on your back as he’s fervently driving that same thick cock of his into you from behind. He traces it delicately with his fingers before reaching forward to grab at your hair, pulling it back for some well-needed leverage while his sweaty thighs smack against yours over and over.

He especially loves learning that you like being talked through things, and he’s already made you cum twice by utilizing his voice. Rinse and repeat, the way your greedy cunt squeezes and milks him for all he’s worth when says, “Remind me, what’s my name?” And when you moan out that nickname that he likes so much, he replies with, “That’s my smart girl. Looking so pretty, you feel so fucking good around me. You gonna cum for me again, pretty? I can feel you squeezing, go ahead and give it to me.”

Needless to say, it was a very long and educational night. 

In the morning, Yunho’s desires get the best of him, and he manages to inconspicuously steal a pair of panties from the laundry pile in your room, shoving them into his pants pocket while you’re in the bathroom. He makes sure to take a plain-looking pair, something he’s sure you won’t notice is missing. There’s a slight feeling of guilt once he’s nearly home, though. 

It’s okay, it’s just a one-time thing, he tells himself over and over, I’ll return them the next time I’m over.

—

“YOU WHAT?”

Yeosang slaps his hand over his mouth but, to be fair, his reaction is entirely involuntary. He had promised you he would remain calm, but how could he with this kind of information? You repeatedly sputter that, while you may be in the back of the library, he is very much going to cause a disturbance if he doesn’t shut his fucking mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exhales, leaning in with eyes as big as saucers, “You came in too hot, I need the foreplay first.”

“Don’t phrase it like that, good Lord,” you groan.

“What else am I supposed to say when you tell me you’ve fucked him and none of the lead-up? Fuck, did he even take you out to dinner first?”

“Of course he did,” you defend him quickly, “We’ve spent a lot of time together actually. Mostly dinners and things of that nature.”

“I’m mostly shocked that it took you this long to fuck him. Seems like you hooked him fairly easily.”

“Well…” you cover your face just enough to where an eye can peep out between your fingers, and Yeosang eyes you curiously, “No, that wasn’t the first time…”

“Obviously you hate me, ____,” your best friend immediately states, clasping his hands together, “This is the only suitable explanation of why you wouldn’t tell me this until now. I literally begged you for info like an idiot weeks ago!”

“I’m sorry! It was just—”

“Nah, denied,” he holds a hand up to shush you, “Worst best friend ever.”

“Yeo, I explicitly told you progress was being made. Did I not?”

“You failed to tell me that it was being made between your legs,” he snaps in a whisper-yell. “How many times?”

“Only twice, okay? You haven’t missed much, I promise.”

Yeosang sits in silence with his head perched on his palm, seemingly marinating in all of the information he’s been slammed within the last 10 minutes. There are very few times you’ve seen him at a loss for words, but this moment surely makes the list. 

“I didn’t think he would cave that easily, honestly.” He finally speaks. You release all the pent-up air in your chest that you hadn’t realized you were holding in waiting for his words. “What did you do to him ____?”

He pleads for the final time for you to start from the beginning and explain, and you finally grant that to him without getting too into the nitty gritty. You’re a bit bashful recounting some of the lengths you took in setting this all up, but Yeosang simply nods in understanding at each one. If anyone was going to be supportive, it was always going to be your frontline cheerleader. 

After taking in the full story, he thinks it’s only proper to ask, “What’s your plan beyond this point?”

“Well, exactly what I said to you a long time ago,” you tell him frankly, “If all goes well, I want to be in a relationship with him after I graduate. I don’t see him saying no to that with the way he’s already treating me...”

Yeosang notices the way your demeanor has changed with this answer. Previously, the humorous lilt in your voice was much more prominent. Those same sentiments and that joking attitude seems to be long gone. He can see it in your eyes, the way you’re taking this more seriously. He wonders what Yunho could’ve possibly done to turn you into such a romantic over him. The answer to that would simply be: everything. 

“You know, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure if you were telling the truth about wanting things beyond sex at first,” Yeosang tells you honestly. He may be a goofball, but he’s able to be serious when needed. And despite the foolishness leading up to this statement, his voice is earnest when he says, “I can see this working out for you as long as you’re careful.”

“I hope so, Yeo. I really do.”

—

On the following Wednesday, you and Yeosang are both seated in Yunho’s class wasting time on your phones as class is set to start. Usually, Yunho is very punctual with starting because his lectures are so long, so you’re curious as to what the hold-up is today. You peek over your laptop and spot him talking to a guy you’ve never seen before and, as far as you know, you’ve never recognized him in this class. They nod at each other before you see Yunho clear his throat.

“Everyone, I want to take a few minutes at the top of the hour to introduce someone important,” Yunho begins, loud enough that everyone can hear and cease chatter. “I’m sure some of you recognize him from other classes. For those who don't, however, this is Wooyoung Jung. He’ll be serving as my teacher’s assistant for the remainder of the semester.”

“I’m happy to be able to help any way I can,” Wooyoung proclaims to everyone with a sweet smile before turning back towards Yunho, “And thank you Mr. Jeong for allowing me the opportunity.”

You wonder if this is something Yunho truly chose or whether it was sprung upon him; it’s fairly late into the semester for something like this to be introduced. He does have quite the workload though, you muse. Surely with new hands to help, he’ll manage his time a bit better. You wonder if that’ll mean you get to spend more time with him while Wooyoung is taking care of things that would usually dig into his free time. As if Yunho knows you’re thinking about him, his eyes find yours while Wooyoung is taking his seat at the front of the class. Something about the ambiguous gaze he gives you when others are around makes you itch for his attention even more than normal. He doesn’t ever fail at making it look natural, like he could be looking at anyone for nothing in particular. Those little moments keep things fun.

The answer to your previous queries would end up being that, yes, this was something Yunho chose himself. When presented with an opportunity for a student specializing in his major to offer assistance after being accepted into the Work-Study program later than most, of course he said yes. San had been telling him since he began working at the university last semester that he should take on a TA while he got acclimated to teaching, but Yunho had convinced himself that he could do it all on his own. While Yunho had been pretty open about how terrible his workload was, considering he has 3 class sections, he was never completely honest with you about how much stress this caused him on a day-to-day basis. 

He was excited that this would free up some of his previously stolen time and take some pressure off of his shoulders. He was also looking forward to being able to spend some of that newly open time with you, especially. That’s why when you unknowingly throw a wrench into those intentions before leaving his class Friday, he has a hard time keeping the dejection he feels from showing on his face. 

“It might be a while before we’re able to hang out again,” you sigh, “Midterms are stressing me out but I don’t want to psych myself out right before I graduate—”

“____,” Yunho places his hand on your head tenderly, silencing your rambling in the kindest way he can. He doesn’t like seeing you so stressed out. “Focus on yourself and do your best, okay? Don’t lose sight of the finish line. Being prepared and passing is much more important than us seeing each other.”

You gaze up at him with some of the prettiest dispirited eyes he’s ever seen. How is he supposed to remain selfless when you look like this? Of course, he’d love to be selfish and fill your time; he knows you’re a smart girl so you’d have nothing to worry about for his midterm at least. He’d take care of it. Nevertheless, you’re still a student of others as well, and he has to extinguish that greed as fast as it ignites.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, pretty. You know where to find me whenever you’re ready,” he smiles and gives your cheek a teasing pinch before opening the lecture hall’s door, “See you next Wednesday.”

As expected, two weeks of studying and taking tests consume your entire schedule. Yunho is not much better, and he’s consistently cursing at himself for making the test he gave out to all of his sections so long. Even though he wants to truly know if his students understand all the material thus far, he forgets how time-consuming making the test so extensive can be for him as well. Having Wooyoung around helps quite a bit, even though he feels slightly guilty for putting such a large amount on him when he becomes overwhelmed. Wooyoung never complains though, so Yunho is grateful to have gotten a TA who actually does the work and does it well. During this time, you both try to keep regular contact, offering words of encouragement to each other and discussing what you should do to celebrate when you get your passing grades back. 

Directly following the end of midterms week is the weekend before Halloween. Jongho had sent out a text the week prior that he was holding a party at his parent’s rental house, which is currently unoccupied for the season. The man had friends from several different circles because he was involved in many different extracurriculars outside of his studies, so you were certain this party was going to be fairly large.

Naturally, as best friends do, you and Yeosang decide to wear matching costumes for his party. Procrastination had gotten the best of you both with midterms added into the mix, however, and the best thing the two of you were able to come up with before the weekend was a sexy nurse and doctor duo. Simple, but effective.

You both rode along with Hongjoong, who had chosen to be the designated driver for the evening. It’s uncomfortably brisk outside, too brisk to be dressed like you are; however, upon opening the door, you can barely get two steps into the property before Jongho stops everyone in their tracks. His hands hold out exactly what you knew would be coming before even arriving at the house. It’s Jongho’s signature thing.

“You know the rules,” he says with that mischievous smile of his you know too well. 

You must take one tequila shot to be admitted past the door.

All three of you quickly take the shot glasses from your host and toss them back without even giving cheers. The burn of alcohol and the robust taste of bitter poison stains your tongue. It hurts a little on the throat on the way down and you salivate to adjust to the pain, immediately making a face of disgust. 

“God, it never gets easier,” you cough.

“I’ll grab you something easier,” he laughs while rubbing your back, “Same flavor as usual?”

“Please and thank you.”

As promised, he comes back with two bottles of honeydew melon soju in tow and some fresh shot glasses. It doesn’t take too many heavy-handed shots before laughs and giggles begin to bubble up in your throat for no real reason. You forgot that you didn’t put anything on your stomach before leaving the house, and it’s becoming very apparent every time you feel your head shoot up to outer space and come back down just as quickly. That’s a non-issue though because Jongho’s catered this party with enough food to feed a small village. Anyone watching you stuffing your face with Halloween-themed carbs and sweets is the last thing on your mind. Round two of shots is followed by the intense feeling of needing to dance. Even while intoxicated, you’re perceptive enough to notice various sets of eyes on you whilst dancing with your friends. Every so often, an owner of a set will make his way over and try to chat you up. Like clockwork, you say the same thing to every new person:

Sorry, I’m not single.

You say this sentence so many times in the span of an hour that it begins to feel real. Then again, isn’t it already? As far as you’re concerned, you were spoken for until Yunho said otherwise. You wonder if he feels the same about himself... When you start having a small internal existential crisis about whether Yunho thinks the same, that’s when you know you’re approaching your limit for the night. You step away to grab some water and begin the process of flushing your body. When you make it back to your circle, things have changed. Mingi, with his girlfriend in tow, lets everyone know that they’re going to find a private room before taking off up the stairs of the house. You know it’s irrational and probably motivated by the alcohol in your system, but you can't help but feel jealous that they can do something like that so easily. If you could see Yunho and drag him to a room anytime you were horny, you’re sure a lot of your life’s problems would be solved.

The moment they’re gone, Hongjoong leans in and quickly lets you know he’s also going upstairs to join some other acquaintances in karaoke. You’re just about to panic until Yeosang tugs on your arm to beckon for your attention.

“Going to the bathroom if you want to join,” he leans in and proposes, “I really need to pee.”

Everyone seems to have wanted to go their separate ways, but he’d never leave you alone all by your lonesome. And especially not with alcohol in your system. You grab onto his hand with a nod and let him lead you through hoards of people to the closest bathroom. Luckily, it’s empty and there’s no wait. It’s not long before you’re both locked away from the sound of music thumping from behind the door. While you search through your pockets for your lipgloss for reapplication, Yeosang jets for the toilet.

“I’m drained,” you mutter, “Being bombarded by strangers.”

“You showed up to the party looking like that and expected not to catch some eyes?”

He’s right, honestly. The red and white romper you’re wearing leaves nothing much to the imagination with the way your asscheeks are hanging out of the bottom or the way your breasts are squished together at the top. Your makeup and hair, your stockings and heels, everything just exudes pure sex appeal. All topped off with a little hat and a play syringe you’ve been using occasionally for “alcohol shots”. To be fair, your friend group mainly consisted of men, and many men found it intimidating to approach you with them always surrounding you in settings such as this. People must be feeling especially bold tonight with as much alcohol being drunk, you muse. He giggles to himself because he knows that typically you’d entertain some of the suitors for fun, but you seem devoted to the one man on your mind these days. 

“Bet you didn’t send your boyfriend a picture of your costume though, huh?” Yeosang teases, slurred words morphing into a laugh as he finally pulls down his pants. The subsequent sound of him peeing draws a laugh from you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you scoff and nudge him in the back. He nearly loses his footing. 

“Stop, you're gonna make pee go everywhere!” How he is even still peeing with such ferocity is beyond you. This doesn’t stop him from adding in quickly, “I dare you to show him. It’s only fair, right?”

Alcohol-induced pride is something dangerous, but you’re never one to back down from a dare, even when sober. While he’s finishing up, you find your text thread with Yunho and send him the image you and Yeosang had taken together at the beginning of the party.

[Y/N: 1 image]

[Y/N: Matchingg with my besssttieee]

Coincidentally, Yunho is home and lonesomely watching YouTube videos when his phone pings. Oh wow…

He replies with several texts in a minute—one making sure to compliment you both, but the rest shamelessly thirsting over the way your costume is so lewd. Many other men may have made passes at you and offered plenty of flattery throughout the night, but none of them could make you get flustered as much as Yunho. This is the only man you care about hearing compliments from, the only man whose words matter. Maybe it’s that last bottle of soju making you so confident, but your hands move faster than your brain.

“Don’t turn around just yet,” you tell Yeosang quickly before pulling up your camera. You unzip your romper enough to pull one of your breasts out fully, squeezing it teasingly with one hand while the other takes a quick selfie. It’s a tad blurry, but it’ll do its job. After fixing yourself just as quickly, you give Yeosang the okay so he can wash his hands.

[Y/N: 1 invisible ink image]

[Y/N: Would you let me stick you???]

When he gets this notification, Yunho stares down at his throbbing cock already in his hand and laughs. He was already turned on enough by the other picture to pull it out from his sweatpants, but this? He’s usually not one to send nudes, but good God, he wants nothing more than for you to see exactly what you’re doing to him right now. Against his better judgment, he does just that.

[Yunho: 1 invisible ink image]

[Yunho: only if you let me reciprocate after]

When you uncover the picture, your breath catches in your throat: his hand is firmly wrapped around his aching, flushed cock. It looks as though he’s already been stroking himself eagerly, the way it’s glossy with lubricant and an angry shade of red. God, the things you would do to have him pick you up from this party and let you fuck him to your heart's content… Even though that could never happen, a girl can dream, so you decide you have to tell him exactly what’s on your mind. Yeosang’s too drunk to do his job of taking away your phone while you’re so many drinks deep. 

“Ready to go back?” Your best friend asks while drying his hands.

Holding your phone tight against your chest for privacy, you sputter, “Do you mind giving me a few minutes alone? I won’t be too long, promise.”

Yunho’s shocked when he sees your name come up on his phone for a call. He was beginning to get slightly nervous when you failed to respond to his attempt at sexting, but that didn’t stop him from staring at your photos and feverishly stroking his cock in the meantime.

“Hello?”

“Hello there, handsome,” you giggle, and Yunho immediately hears the intoxicated tremor laced in your words. 

“Having a fun night?” He asks with a laugh of his own, trying to refrain from breathing too heavily into the phone every time he squeezes his leaking tip with a little extra pressure. 

You’re too drunk to realize what he’s doing anyway, and you unknowingly feed into his journey toward an orgasm when you outright say, “Yes but… I want you so bad right now, Yu.”

Yunho’s breath nearly catches in his throat, and his face flushes bashfully as his hand glides faster up and down his cock.

His voice trembles a bit when he replies, “I wish I could make that happen for you, angel.”

“Well… you wanna know what I’d do if I was there?” You push further, closing your eyes and tuning out everything outside the door to focus on Yunho alone. He agrees promptly, head kicking back as he closes his eyes in the same way, tuning in solely to your voice. “Been wanting to ride you so bad lately. Keep imagining the way you’d sound when I bounce up and down in your lap… You make the prettiest noises, Yu, I swear.”

He physically swallows any of those aforementioned pretty noises trying to manifest in his throat, burying them deep in his chest before he responds with the only thing his brain can manifest.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, but…” You lower your voice to a whisper, “Do you think I could make you cum all by myself, like no help?”

Yunho is so close, he can barely hold himself together.

“I bet you could. Just seeing you feel good while using my dick would be enough to, honestly.”

The tiny drunken giggle that tumbles from your lips goes straight to his heart, “I say we test that out then.”

“Just let me know when you want to and I’ll be more than ready,” he assures you, accidentally punctuating that sentence with a soft, “ Fuck .”

“____, Jongho’s looking for us,” Yeosang calls out through the door. “They’re about to play a drinking game or something.”

For some reason, the knowledge that you’re talking so filthy like this while anyone on the other side of the door could perhaps hear you pushes him over the edge. With his phone on his chest, Yunho presses a tight hand over his mouth to suppress any noise threatening to come out, instead heavily breathing through his nostrils as spurts of cum sully his abdomen.

You sigh, “My liver is being summoned, gotta go. Bye-bye, handsome.”

The call ends before Yunho can even open his mouth to reply, but that’s fine because he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to come up with a coherent sentence anyway. He settles for dazedly texting you to let him know when you get home safely. The long and uncomfortably hot shower he takes to wash away the filth from his mind and his body leaves him feeling oddly refreshed. It might be because he hasn’t had a conversation with you not relating to the stresses of the previous weeks up until today. It’s silly that something so depraved ended up being the product, but God, does it feel fresh and exhilarating.

Now that midterm season was over and a good amount of grading had been taken off of his hands by taking on a TA, Yunho found himself with enough time on his hands to give his place a good cleaning. If he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s doing this to give himself more confidence in inviting you over again. It had been some time since he last had you there, but that was partially due to the treacherous state that it was in currently. You had been free from midterms for a week now, there were no excuses as to why he couldn’t spend private time with you in his place. The perfect opportunity arose directly after he accomplished his goal, when you mentioned in passing that you were one assignment away from being able to go out.

“How about you come do your work at my place instead?” he had offered, “I’ll order us dinner and we can relax together afterward.”

It didn’t take much convincing for you to end up on his doorstep half an hour later with your backpack slung over your shoulder. You’re so beautiful when you’re done up, there’s no denying that, but there’s something about you when you’re dressed so comfortably casual that makes Yunho get heart palpitations. When you look like that while lounging at his kitchen table, hands typing away at God knows what assignment, it just feels so domestic to him. You look like you belong there. He tries not to stare too much and gives you your space to work though, busying himself with some random medical show he pays no real mind to on Netflix while lying on his couch. Quite some time later, he hears you let out a hefty aggravated sigh. 

“Words are starting to blend together,” you murmur while rubbing your eyes. “Hate when this happens.”

“Take a break then, beautiful. Come sit with me?”

It started off innocent, it really did. 

Sitting curled up under Yunho’s arm in his lap has now entered the top ranks on your list of favorite positions to be in. It’s soothing, the way his fingers play with the frayed strings of your pants in between rubbing calming circles into your tense muscles. If you weren’t careful, you’re sure this man could lull you to sleep.

“I didn’t know you liked doctor shows,” you mumble against his chest. 

“I don’t,” he laughs, “I figured the girl who dressed up as a sexy nurse over the weekend would be interested.”

“Oh hush, you know Halloween is for foolishness.”

But, upon entering a conversation about Halloween, it leads to a conversation about your photo exchange. Yunho has been meaning to ask if he’s allowed to save that image for obvious reasons. Aside from it being sent while you were intoxicated, he also wants to be respectful about deleting it if need be. You reassure him that it’s okay for him to keep and use it whenever he likes, as you do not doubt in your mind he’d never let something like that slip from between you both. That’s when the phone call also comes up.

“Are you usually that horny when you’re intoxicated?” Yunho inquires, “Calling me up and talking like that was surprising.”

You sit up immediately, “I called you? You’re lying…”

“You don’t remember?” His brows hitch in surprise. 

“No, I don’t recall that at all,” you gaze back at him, dumbfounded, “What did I say?”

“Nothing much,” he lies, but he knows you’d never take that as an answer. Especially not when his cheeks are dusted in pink at you even asking.

“Please, tell me!” You nearly plead, “Oh God, was it embarrassing?”

“You really want to know that badly?”

The innocent nod you give him makes him give in. He remains focused on the TV to prevent himself from becoming too sheepish by looking into your eyes while recounting such words. Yunho is a bit more conservative with his words as he recalls your remarks about riding him. He’s unable to go into as much detail as you did of course, he doesn’t want to work himself up just thinking about it; moreover, he can’t even say some parts without fleeting thoughts of how he already jacked off simply to your voice telling him such things. It’s embarrassing to him how he lacks willpower when it comes to you, he’s a grown man for Christ’s sake. To be fair, you’re not much help. He doesn’t even notice how you’re toying with his sweatpants’ strings while he talks. When he finally tears his eyes from the TV and meets yours, the gaze you share has you finally moving from your spot.

Who knew Yunho’s living room couch was so comfortable on the knees? Surely not you, until yours are digging into it while you straddle his waist. It’s hard to focus on the way his lips are devouring your neck while his hands are simultaneously frisking every inch of your body he can reach. You don’t know at what point during the last minute you ended up with your joggers thrown a few feet away on the floor, or when he ended up with his sweatpants and underwear pooled around his feet. He can’t focus on anything else but the feeling of your bare cunt sliding back and forth over his cock, watching you teasingly smear your slick all over him with his mouth hung open. He can only take but so much of watching you work him up before he finally peers up into your eyes.

“God, you’re way too good at being a tease,” he sighs as he leans up to ghost his lips over yours. You can feel his little gasps every time you apply a little more of your weight on top of his painfully hard cock. He’s a patient man though, so he doesn’t mind letting you toy with him for however long your heart desires, “I’m not in a rush.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to remind me how to fit it in me,” you joke, gasping as his hands busy themselves by massaging your sensitive breasts under your sports bra, “It's been a while since the last time, you know?”

The raspy laugh he lets out hits you right in your core, and even more so when he says, “You’re a very smart and capable girl, I know you can do it all by yourself.” 

The way he enunciates the last three words makes your core throb. When you finally lift your hips to wrap your hands around his length, his hands move from your breasts to your waist for support. You give him a few gentle pumps before lining him up with your sopping entrance. 

“There you go,” he encourages when you push yourself open on his tip with a needy moan.

You slide down his shaft gradually, inch by inch until you’re fully seated. The deep, shaky exhale you let out against Yunho’s neck makes him chuckle because you’re such a trooper even without any prep beforehand. 

“Give me a second.”

“Want some help?” He asks genuinely, massaging the plush of your thighs and chuckling when he feels you clench at the offer. 

He’d lay you down and take care of things himself if you wanted him to, as he’s never one to deny a pillow princess being the service dom he typically is. To his surprise, you begin moving your hips, lifting and sliding back down at a casual pace. His head kicks back and he sighs at the feeling of your warm walls swallowing him in and pushing him out, over and over. You can’t keep in the sounds of pure need and arousal that spill from your lips every time you feel his cock curve up and prod against that spot that makes your stomach do flips. When the sting from the initial stretch subsides, every glide feels breathtaking. You keep your head buried in his neck to focus on your hip movements instead, gasping and moaning in time with every sound of your ass striking his thighs.

You were right, he thinks, it had been quite some time since you both slept together that night of your first real date. Yunho’s been dreaming about that pretty cunt of yours since then—nearly daily—unable to match the feeling of the way you squeeze him with his hand, especially during the nights he works himself up enough to where he needs release. He didn’t want to seem too brazen or shamefully horny by reaching out and asking if he could show you more of what he could accomplish with that cock of his buried inside you, the sounds he wants to try and evoke. Nevertheless, he doesn’t want you to think that’s something that matters the most to him. 

Admittedly, the general nerves regarding your extracurricular activities with each other had subsided after the Halloween stint. Yunho gained a lot of confidence after that night. He previously felt guilty during midterm weeks because, even after he had expressly told you to focus on yourself, he was also so sure that there was plenty of midterm stress he could’ve helped you relieve, and vice versa. In many, many ways. Regardless, he decided to let sex with you occur naturally instead, such as last time. It was worth the wait though, if the way his teeth are sinking so deep into his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering at this pleasure is anything to go by. 

“Fuck, mhm, just like that baby,” he hisses when you arch your back and begin rolling your hips against him, “Really gonna make me cum all by yourself, huh? Knew you were ambitious, angel.”

You feel yourself nearly gush with every word. This can’t be the same man who stands in front of you twice a week and talks about semantics, right? On the opposite end, how is he supposed to maintain any composure when the sounds of your sopping wet cunt sucking him in so easily are now battling the TV? Your arousal is so loud and it’s driving him crazy. He tends to firmly pinch at the meat of your bouncing ass and chuckle every time it elicits a helpless yelp from your throat, only to keep his antsy hands busy. Still, he makes an effort to let you do things by yourself, as you expressed.

“Yu?” you whimper into his skin a moment later, and he grunts to let you know he’s listening even if his mind is foggy with lust, “I wanna kiss you.”

Yunho’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest, cheeks flushing at how innocent the request is. His hand tenderly grabs you by the chin and leads your mouth to his while murmuring, “Stop hiding then, sweetheart.”

Time and time again, you’re reminded about how good of a kisser he is. There’s something addicting about the way he loves intertwining tongues and doesn’t care about being messy that turns you on to the highest degree. You can feel heat prickle over every inch of your skin when he pulls back your bottom lip with his teeth. When you begin to bounce faster and grow more eager to cum, Yunho’s hands finally grab underneath either cheek of your ass and begin to help you, hips rutting up in time with every quick hop of you on his cock. It doesn’t take long before his breathing becomes ragged, his own orgasm nearing, and you both break the kiss to gasp for air. Your hands grip onto his biceps when you feel your legs starting to give out from fatigue.

“I’m sorry I–”

“You can relax, sweetheart,” he pants, “Just a little more, I’ve got you.”

Yunho wraps his arms around your back, holding you steady and spreading his legs a bit farther apart before taking over and pistoning his hips into yours. The frenzied babbles of his name in his ear make his eyes roll to the ceiling. Your orgasm blindsides you entirely, hitting you right after a particularly sinful thrust directly into your G-spot. There's no time to indulge in the way you’re making some of the most euphoric sounds he’s ever heard himself pull from a woman because the feeling of your walls contracting and convulsing around his cock gives him the final push to finish himself. Right before he lets go, he lifts you off of his cock with strong arms and cum paints his t-shirt a few seconds later. 

“I say we go take a shower…” Yunho begins tentatively, reworking his thoughts after you both are breathing calmly again, “And then, we can order some food because I’m honestly starving. What do you say?”

“And where does finishing my assignment come in, hm?” You pinch his cheek.

“Ugh, you’re right…” he groans, “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time before the food is delivered, right?”

“I’m not even looking at that food until my work is done, and I mean i—” Your voice clips off when he suddenly stands to his feet with you maintained in his arms. 

“That shower isn’t going to run itself then,” he counters, lips tugging into a large smile as he happily strides towards his bedroom with you in tow.

Yunho had informed you beforehand that this next week was going to be a busy one for him, induced by training workshops the university decided to spring upon a few colleges. The Dean of his particular college thought that it was a good idea to shove all necessary sessions into the first week of November. He apologizes multiple times every time he thinks about it. You know he shouldn’t have to ever explain his business to you—he’s doing his job as a teacher, which comes first and foremost—but it’s nice that he considers you when his schedule is in conversation. You tell him time and time again that he shouldn’t concern himself with what you may or may not feel about his unavailability. He was nothing but patient with you during midterms, and you were more than happy to reciprocate that now that the time has come. 

The first day you have class with him that week, you choose to stick back while everyone else is bustling to get out of the door. It doesn’t take longer than a couple of minutes for the room to completely empty, save for you and your teacher. Normally, his eyes would light up noticing such a thing, but today he seems to be drowning in fatigue with the way his face doesn’t even budge. That doesn’t stop you from heading to his podium with tentative steps while he pulls on his blazer and packs up to continue his schedule.

“Got a minute?”

“For you? Always,” he hums without even looking up. He’s in the middle of shoving the last of his things in his briefcase when you hold up a tied-up plastic bag that catches his attention.

“I know you have a loaded day, so I brought you lunch,” you break the news before he can question it. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but you’re sure it’ll be enjoyable to eat regardless. “Just wanted to save you from having to make an extra stop across campus.”

“You’re amazing, ____,” Yunho utters in a soft voice before taking the bag from you carefully. He’s having a hard time mustering up any kind of physical joy today so he hopes that, for now, his words can at least convey what he’s failing to provide otherwise, “I know it doesn’t look like it but I really do appreciate this. Thank you.”

“You seem tense today,” you point out while moving to join him on his side of the podium. “Did something happen?”

The lecture hall’s doors don’t have any slit windows for prying eyes, so you reach up and rub a comforting hand over the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and sighs. If there’s anyone’s touch that could cure his problems, he’s sure it’s yours. Still, he doesn’t want to make himself too comfortable with the location you’re in.

“You wouldn’t believe how many things are going wrong today. I also have to meet with the head of my department for a performance evaluation based on the midterm grades. Everyone generally did very well but,” Yunho massages the bridge of his nose to help collect his thoughts before continuing, “It’s only my second semester, so the impression I’m making with these kinds of things is very important. I know I have nothing to be worried about but it’s hard not to be anxious.”

“Making yourself sick with stress isn’t going to help either,” you remind him.

“I know, I know. I’m just ready for this week to be over.”

“Maybe we should go out of town again this weekend,” you muse, hand moving to squeeze his shoulder affectionately, “I saw online some fall festivals are happening that might be fun to check out. I remember you saying you’ve never been to one.”

He peers down at you, lips splitting into his first genuine grin of the day, “She takes notes in and out of the classroom, how cute.”

“Only when it comes to you. What do you say?”

There’s a knock on the doors, but before Yunho can muster any words to answer it, the owner comes in anyway. Upon entering in a huff, Wooyoung stops dead in his tracks. His eyes flicker between the two of you before he hitches a brow. You offer him a mild-mannered smile and pull your hand away from Yunho’s shoulder slowly so as not to seem suspicious.

“Good afternoon Wooyoung,” Yunho says so naturally, though you’re groaning in your head, “Did you need something from me?”

You know it’s ridiculous of you, but you’re starting to envy Yunho’s TA. Recently, you’ve come to realize that you hate how Wooyoung gets an immense amount of time interacting with Yunho daily, but it’s still never enough. There’s always something more he needs. You get it, he’s technically an employee to make your teacher’s life easier. That’s something you should be cheering on, right? Deep down, in the most selfish part of your mind, you’re just tired of people always interrupting and interfering in the minimal amount of time you have with Yunho on campus, even unknowingly. 

“I remembered I had some questions about your grading criteria for the recent essay that I needed some clarification on before leaving,” he says, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker at you briefly, “But if you’re busy…”

“He’s not. We just finished chatting about what’s due next class,” you answer for Yunho instead, much to his dismay. He notices the tone change in your voice, but as much as he’d like to resolve that, he can only watch you grab your bag. He’s slow to catch himself frowning before fixing his face in front of his TA. While slipping past the younger gentleman to finally leave, you make sure to call out, “See you Friday, Mr. Jeong.”

It takes everything in you to not give Wooyoung the finger to the back of his head, but you decide it’s best not to let such things aggravate you. Again, Yunho is a teacher and this is part of his job. You shouldn’t be so angry at his assistant for doing what he needs to do to make his life easier.

You and your linguist do end up leaving the area again that weekend to attend a festival together. This particular town is covered in thick colorful trees that have yet to lose their leaves. Along with the overwhelming smells over different smells of various food carts and so many people laughing in enjoyment, the entire scene does a number on Yunho’s brain. It scratches a deep itch he didn’t realize he had. Playing little games with you for prizes makes him realize he hasn’t had this kind of fun in quite a long time. 

Yunho’s shocked with himself when he asks if you both can take a selfie together in front of all the colorful leaves before leaving for the day. He’s been thinking about something like this for quite some time, a bit dispirited by not being able to savor memories in pictures like everyone else can. Realistically, he knows he really shouldn’t be offering such blatant evidence of your romance to be left on either of your phones. Texts can easily be manipulated and argued, but selfies with you both in them don’t lie. These kinds of thoughts still nag at him in the back of his head even while he puts on this goofy grin, chin affectionately sitting atop your shoulder as he snaps his first photo with you ever. He wishes he could put something like this as his wallpaper. Even if he could, in a world where peeping eyes weren’t an issue, he wonders if that would be too much. Do you like the people you’re involved with to be that mushy? 

He doesn’t have the luxury of overthinking about these things for too long before you’re pinching his cheek to bring him back to reality. Reluctantly, Yunho decides to let his brain rest and focus on the rest of the time he has left with you. He’s unable to stay the night or do anything intimate that evening because of prior obligations taking up the rest of his night, but that doesn’t stop him from boldly leaning over his center console and surprising you with a slow, romantic kiss while parked right in front of your complex. He knows he should care, but he can’t find it in himself to be bothered with the risks when he just wants to show you that he appreciates you helping him relax today before he has to depart. You hear him loud and clear.

The following week, Seonghwa finds himself seeking out Yunho’s office after packing up for the day. Yunho’s thumbing at his phone’s keyboard when the courtesy knocks come and nearly scare him, but grants permission to enter. 

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Seonghwa marvels when he finds his friend still perched in his office chair. “Your classes are usually over early on Thursdays, no?”

“I had to rework my syllabus and switch modules around because of some issues getting through lectures last week. Completely slipped my mind that I still needed to revise my lesson plans and slides for tomorrow until this morning,” Yunho sighs, “If I go home it’s definitely not getting done, so I have to stay.”

His friend surveys the ways his cheeks are slightly flushed as he glances back down at his phone briefly and tries to type something quickly. Sure, it could be from frustration or exhaustion caused by his tasks for the evening, but something seems different in the way he’s fidgeting in his chair. 

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Seonghwa inquires out of the blue, causing Yunho to lift his eyes from his phone abruptly. He offers a knowing smirk when Yunho’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You’re smiling a lot more these days— kinda glowing. Seems like you finally made it out of the dry spell and got laid.”

Yunho subconsciously tucks his phone in his lap, unconsciously confirming Seonghwa’s suspicions.

“Nobody special,” he replies, finding this white lie to be more suitable than lying outright, “Nothing much I can say.”

“Well, where’d you meet her? You don’t talk to anyone when we go out anymore so it couldn’t have been at the bar.”

Yunho hesitates for a brief moment before saying the first thing that comes to his mind, “Tinder.”

“I thought you deleted that app a while ago,” Seonghwa’s brows crease.

“I redownloaded it a while ago out of boredom,” Yunho explains quickly. He knows he’s not the best liar, but there is quite literally no way he’s going to tell his friend the truth about this situation whatsoever. Now, he almost wishes he had just fully lied at the start.

“And you can’t tell me more about a Tinder match?”

“I just–”

“I’d understand if I was San, but someone you can’t even tell me about?” Seonghwa jokes, but Yunho can tell this question is not entirely unserious. 

He understands where his friend is coming from. Their relationship runs a bit deeper than Yunho’s with the third addition to their friendship, even though all three are nearly brothers now considering the years they’ve been friends. There’s never been something that Yunho hasn’t been able to come to him about, and they’re both generally always open with anything between each other. Needless to say, Seonghwa always knows when something is off.

“It’s not like that Hwa, just that it’s nobody worth discussing,” Yunho insists, “Who knows where it’ll lead, you know? I’ll let you know if it goes anywhere.”

Seonghwa’s eyes linger on him for a few extra seconds before he simply hums in acceptance. There’s a particular look in his eyes as he sips his water bottle briefly, though.

“Alright... I’ll leave you with these words, though,” he begins, and his voice is earnest. The one he usually uses with Yunho when he needs some tough love. “You’ve worked hard to be where you’re at now. Be careful brother, okay?”

Yunho maintains a fairly neutral expression when he nods, careful to neither confirm nor deny Seonghwa’s thoughts, whatever they may be. Seonghwa is perceptive but surely he’d never pin Yunho as the type to have gotten involved with a student. At least, he hopes.

“You finished for today?” Yunho asks while Seonghwa searches for his keys in his pockets.

“Yeah, thank God.” When he finally finds his keys, he adds, “Don’t work yourself too hard and stay too late, ‘kay?”

Yunho assures him that he definitely won’t, and they both exchange goodbyes before he finally departs the room. He’s pretty sure that he should be the only teacher left on his side of the building in their office right now. He finally brings his phone out of his lap and shoots out the text he was in the process of sending before his friend entered his office.

[Yunho: are you almost done for the day?]

[Y/N: I’m walking to our lot now actually. Everything okay?]

Fuck. Yunho feels bad for summoning you like this on short notice but he can’t take it anymore. His mind has been thinking about one thing all day, and if it doesn’t get taken care of now he might go insane.

[Yunho: if you’re not too far can you come to my office..?]

[Yunho: pls]

You cease your walking, redirect yourself towards his side of campus, quickly typing back to let him know you’re on your way. You don’t get to see him that often, so you’d never deny the opportunity to make that happen. On your venture back to the building, you end up crossing paths with Seonghwa while he’s on his way to the parking lot to head home. The ambiguous glint in his eyes as you both acknowledge each other in passing doesn’t strike you as unusual, but you do take notice. 

The building is fairly empty when you enter, which isn’t surprising for the time of day. You take your time going up the elevator and striding to his office since it didn’t seem like this request was an emergency. You also figure it’s fine to enter outright since he specifically requested you to come immediately, but the door is locked upon turning the handle.

“Mr. Jeong?”

You use formalities after you knock just to be on the safe side; you’re not entirely sure who could be hanging around this late. Moreover, maybe he’s locked the door because he’s meeting with someone else briefly before you. Before you can even unlock your phone to text him and make sure he still needs you before leaving, you hear the door’s lock click open. He opens it a second later, enough for you to enter.

“Never seen you lock your door before.” You’re more preoccupied with shoving your phone in the side pocket of your bag as you enter to notice anything off. “Something happen?”

“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t want anyone else seeing me like this,” he explains quickly. 

You’re just about to ask him what he means, but Yunho doesn’t give you much of a chance to get too far before he circles his arms around your waist and swoops down to capture your lips. It’s an immensely needy kiss, one you’ve never received from him before. Unintentionally, when the aching boner in his pants brushes against you, he releases a soft groan into your mouth– Oh! The sound of him locking the door sends a chill down your back. 

You manage to pull away from him and laugh, brows furrowed in confusion, “Excuse me, have you forgotten where we are?”

“My colleagues are already gone for the day,” he reasons while walking you backward over to his desk. His face is flushed as he implores, “I need you to do me a favor, okay?”

“Of course,” you nod quickly, gazing up at him with expectant eyes. Why does he look so…desperate?

This moment doesn’t feel entirely real. You’re becoming increasingly wet just thinking about the things you could do now that you two were alone in his office if what he says is true. You’ve both exchanged plenty of fleeting, amicable touches when out in public, ones that not many would think twice about, but you’ve never tried something like this when you’re still on campus. Yunho fails to finish his request, too captivated with peppering your neck in wet open-mouthed kisses while he physically coaxes you to sit on his desk. You have on a skirt today, and he’s so thankful not to have to deal with the extra work of pulling off jeans.

“What do you want me to do, Yu? I’ll do anything,” you insist and wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning for his attention, “Just tell me.” 

When he stares directly into your eyes, trying to gain enough courage to speak, you reiterate once more that he can ask you for anything.

“I want you to let me go down on you,” he finally spits out before sitting back into the chair you usually sit in when visiting. 

“But… Right now? Here?”

“If you’re comfortable,” he adds.

It takes a few seconds for the words to fully sink in, and you hesitate briefly before lifting your skirt against your stomach and begin lying back. Yunho scoots his chair forward with an immense amount of anticipation building in his chest; he wasn’t sure earlier if this would take more convincing, but he’s grateful it didn’t.

“That’s really all?” Your brows crease while propping yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him inquisitively. 

Your confusion makes him chuckle. For someone so good with words any other time, he surely has some trouble expressing himself well when it comes to you most times. Today, though, he decides to let his desires spill freely. He gets ahead of himself and licks a warm strip up your panties, briefly tasting the arousal that’s creating such a big wet spot in the seat of the garment.

“I don’t think you understand ____,” Yunho begins, voice low as he pulls your panties down your legs. The rise and fall of his chest quickens with excitement once you’re bare and spread open by his hands. “Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about doing this again for the longest time.”

“Eating my pussy?” He nods hastily, pressing searing kisses onto the insides of your thighs. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

He sighs when you run your hand through his hair, coy eyes gazing up at you from between your thighs, “I didn’t want to be too forward about it. How do I properly beg you to suffocate me?” 

“Just like that,” you laugh, but that’s cut abruptly by him roughly yanking you by your thighs closer to his face. As much as he’d love to entertain the rest of this conversation, he’s too impatient when you’re laid out in front of him like this, all wet and ready for his mouth. He flattens his tongue against your cunt and licks another long stripe upward, the initial taste making him sigh. The breathy moan you let fly at the brief contact makes his dick twitch in his pants.

“Been touching myself to the thought of these thighs around my head,” he admits, repeating the action but putting a little extra attention on your clit, “I was so hard today that I couldn't even stand up during my last lecture. You did that.” 

You would crack a teasing joke about Wooyoung having to do his job for him, but any words lingering in your head are stolen the moment Yunho buries his face in your cunt, nose prodding at your clit. He licks and laps messily at your heat like some famished gentlemen consuming a meal for the first time in days. The obscenities that spill from your lips amongst cute, helpless whines only make him nod his head. He wants you to learn—good and well—that this is something he’s self-admittedly very talented at and always ready to do if you ever find it within yourself to ask him. If you didn’t learn that the first time he briefly ate you out, you sure were going to learn now. Yunho’s tongue finds itself buried as far as he can manage in your hole, pushing in and out and savoring the way you taste. 

Your hands fly to your mouth because, even if Yunho is sure that you both are alone, you still don’t want the sound of you falling apart on his tongue seeping through the door with the way you’re progressively getting louder. He doesn’t mind you suppressing yourself, he’s set on filling the silence himself. The sounds of him slurping and sucking and kissing are so loud when bouncing against the walls of his small office.

“I love the taste of you,” he groans against your heat, sending vibrations against your sensitive cunt. You gasp and go to close your legs, to move away instinctively, but Yunho is too quick. His fingertips dig deep into the meat of your thighs as he makes an effort to keep them open, refusing to let you squirm away. “Let me finish this time,” he says, voice stern and brows furrowed.

God, that commanding voice he rarely uses could make you cum on the spot. Embarrassment flushes your face when you feel a new wave of arousal from those words gush and drip down your skin. He’s not going to let any of that go to waste though, sparing no time getting back to his ministrations. You don’t even realize that after a while you’ve begun to grind yourself against his face. He feels like he’s in heaven, his hands pulling and encouraging your hips forward as if silently saying yeah, keep going, just like that.

When he feels your legs become more tense, he decides to thrust two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt and latch his mouth onto your clit, set on abusing that spot inside of you that will finally give him exactly what he wants. He ignores the ache in his jaw because every yelp and whimper spilling from your lips spurs his endurance until he finally hears his favorite words.

“Y-Yu, m’gonna cum,” you sputter before he feels your thighs close in over his head. He doesn’t mind this time, this is right where he wants to be when you tip over anyway. 

Yunho lets out one last groan of his own onto your clit before he feels your legs go rigid, a signal he knows well now. Your back arches off the desk and he indulges in the feeling of you bucking against his face. He swallows everything you have to give him, mouth open and jaw slack as you tremble through your orgasm. It takes you what feels like forever to let go of his head, not like he’s complaining. When your legs go limp, Yunho slumps back in the chair with a huff. He’d get lock-jaw multiple times a week eating you out if you let him. He supposes this is something he should suggest eventually.

“You’re so hot, it’s unbelievable,” he heaves, staring at the mess he’s made of your cunt. There’s slick and cum and spit and everything in between ruining his desk, but he can’t find it in himself to care about the cleanup right now. When you’re finally able to sit up and breathe properly, he grins at you with that messy mouth of his, “Thank you, seriously.”

“Let me give you head too,” you offer eagerly, though you’re not even sure your knees are strong enough for that right now. To your surprise, Yunho shakes his head. “Please, I want to reciprocate!”

“You don’t have to,” he replies instead, finally fully gaining his breath back. The pout prominent on your face could make him melt into a puddle, he feels so bad but…

“But you deserve to cum too—”

“I… did already, ____,” he divulges and bashfully covers his face before you can see his cheeks flush with heat. You slowly glance down at his crotch and your eyes go wide. Yunho has indeed cum completely untouched, right inside his pants, as evident from the large wet spot soaking through his brown slacks.

A man who loves eating pussy so much he gets off just from your pleasure…

You push his arm away from his face and pull him in by his cheeks for an endearing kiss, one that you hope shows your appreciation and adoration. 

“I’ll take care of you another day,” you promise him against his lips upon breaking. Regardless of the embarrassment coursing through him at the moment, he nods in acceptance. Anxiously walking to his car with his briefcase pressed firmly against his crotch to hide the aftermath of committing various sins in his office after finishing his work for the day is not something he ever expected to do, but somehow it still feels gratifying all the same.

It’s around this week that Yunho begins to sit down and seriously start examining his feelings. A quiet night in his home where he’s alone leads him to decide to sort out the swarm of thoughts he’s been accumulating in his mind for the last couple of weeks.

There’s no doubt in his mind that you both share a connection he’s never experienced with another woman before. When this all first began, although he explicitly let you know that he genuinely likes you, he initially wondered if maybe that was coming from being so attention and touch-deprived for some time. That maybe he was latching onto something because you filled a void, a subconscious selfish attachment to you to satisfy the things he lacked. None of that ended up being true, not even close. You both had spent a considerable amount of time exploring this thing… he supposes that’s where the dilemma comes in. What is this “thing”? He knows things are complicated considering the circumstances; but, are you both technically dating, just without the official title until that resolves itself? You hadn’t necessarily made that clear. What if you found someone closer to your age who made you feel the same way as he did within that time? Someone who you could be normal with and not have to sneak around or hide to enjoy. 

This is where his selfishness comes in.

He thinks about how he would indeed be jealous and perturbed if he even saw you with another man like that, even if it makes your life easier. He doesn’t want to even think about you giving another man the same heart palpitations or sweaty hands he gets when he’s around you. He doesn’t want anyone else on that campus to know what it feels like to kiss you. He doesn’t want anyone else to know how good and fulfilling it feels to be the object of your desires. It’s been nearly three months of dates, spending time together, and learning the ins and outs of each other (in all five senses and beyond). How could he not feel infuriated if that were to happen? 

That’s when it clicks for Yunho: he’s fucking in love with you. The moment this loud thought crosses his mind, Yunho’s chest tightens in fear. The last time he thought he felt this way about a woman, she hurt him in a way that took him some lengthy time to heal from. And, as he always has to remind himself, you are not just some woman. You’re also his student. This isn’t as simple as unmatching someone on Tinder because things didn’t work out, or blocking someone after a heartbreak. Though, the more he thinks about that word — student — the more he realizes it doesn’t matter anymore. You are much more than that. And soon enough, that word would no longer be in your vocabulary anyway. The only thing he cares about now is that you end up his officially at the end of the day. He was going to do whatever he could to make the rest of your semester smooth and stress-free, so you both could be happy together when it’s over. 

And, as if you know you’re being thought of, Yunho’s phone buzzes with a text from you asking if he’s asleep. He debates with himself about whether he should bite the bullet and ask if you can both talk about things in the near future, but he ultimately decides against it. For now, he’ll indulge in the way you call his phone before he can even type a response and tell him that you want to fall asleep to his voice.

Some days later, you find yourself knocking on Yunho’s office door in the early afternoon. Unlike some people, you wait until he answers with a confirmation to enter. 

“Good afternoon,” he beams after realizing it’s you, wiping his hands clean with a napkin.

“Ah, I’m just in time,” you chirp with clasped hands when you spot his empty tupperware. “I was worried I was going to interrupt your eating.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered anyways, pretty. You’ve seen me eat many times.”

“You deserve to eat in peace at least once a day like everyone else,” you reason while sitting down across from him as usual, “I sprung this meeting on you last minute anyway.”

“Speaking of which, I’m still quite confused about why you wanted to come here for this,” he replies while spinning his chair from side to side, “I told you my home is always open for you, especially for things like this.”

“This” being discussing your final paper. The same thing that put you right into his lap in the first place.

“Just felt a little nostalgic I guess,” you grin, adding in a quieter voice, “And maybe a little jealous too.”

His brows furrow, “Jealous?”

His confusion is expected, as you’re sure he hasn’t paid attention to much of the interruptions you’ve experienced while with him the last few weeks on campus. It’s not simply Wooyoung either, but everyone who gets his attention on campus when you have to stay away for one reason or another. The way other women on campus look at him or speak to him, unaware that he’s already devoting his attention to you. It eats at you a bit sometimes. 

Yunho may be greedy but you’re much greedier, as if that wasn’t evident enough by the things you did to attract him in the first place. Even then, he’s never failed to oblige any of your requests, whether that be with his endearment, his time, or his… assets. He deserves everything in the world, and you can’t wait to give that to him when the time arrives. For now, you’ll behave to the best of your abilities.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just rambling,” you deflect, “Seeing you in your element is just nice, that’s all.”

Yunho’s curious about what’s going on in your mind but he decides not to pursue further answers. 

“So, what do I have the pleasure of helping you with today?” 

The apples of his cheeks are even more prominent today as he smiles while asking this. You know he loves his job, but you’re sure he doesn’t get this much glee during office hours with anyone else. 

“Last session at your house we talked about my analysis section and I remember you telling me that I was overthinking, but I’m still second-guessing myself on some of my points. I guess I just need to run some things by you to be one hundred percent sure I’m in a good direction.”

“You’re almost as bad as me,” he declares. As the self-proclaimed King of Overthinking, he’s the only person allowed to say such a thing to you. Still, it makes you pout.

“To be fair, we both know this is not my best subject, so this final might be more important to me than any of my others,” you confess. This is partially true; a small part of you wants to impress your handsome linguist by showing him a final product worth reading. 

“You know I’d take care of things regardless, right? You don’t have to stress about that.”

“I appreciate that, but I want to earn this grade genuinely,” you clarify. He lets you know he understands, but you want some extra reassurance when you say, “Promise me you’ll grade me genuinely, okay?”

“I get it. I promise pretty lady,” he guarantees you with a soft, affectionate smile. “I know I tell you all the time in the most inappropriate scenarios… but I mean it when I say you’re a smart woman. I know you’ll do fine.”

If he could see you right now, Yeosang would surely be laughing at you for being such a lover-girl and telling you that you’re an absolute idiot for passing up an automatic A+ on your final, but you never genuinely pursued Yunho for that kind of leverage anyway, regardless of the initial jokes. This was something you genuinely hoped Yunho was aware of when it came to communicating your feelings. 

As always, he takes all the time you need to help you with a list of things you want a second opinion on, sources you want to make sure are up to par, and everything in between. He thinks it’s cute when you pull out your little checklist named “Things To Ask Yu”, and diligently check each off as they’re completed.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips the moment you check off the final thing on the list. You both meet eyes for a brief moment, and the look donning his face is something oozing with pure adoration. You hold his gaze for what feels like forever before glancing at your watch. You’re making good time, it’s been almost an hour.

“When you look at me like that, it makes me want to throw away all my responsibilities and stay here all day,” you mumble.

He lets out an airy chuckle, “Am I keeping you from anything in particular?”

“I do have a class in about half an hour.”

He stretches his arms over his head with a grunt, “Sounds like we should end things for the day and meet here again in a couple of days then, Miss Nostalgia.”

“Well…” You trail off as you stand to your feet and make your way to the office door. 

Yunho watches your fingers lock his door before you stroll back over to his side of the desk. Something stirs in his gut as he looks up into your eyes when you finally reach him, calculating the way you gaze back at him playfully. The small mischievous smirk playing on your lips… God, he just knows he’s in trouble. He turns his attention toward his laptop when you sit yourself on top of his desk right beside him.

“Well?”

“Remember how I said I would take care of you at another time?” The feeling of the edge of his desk sinking into your thighs elicits a soft sigh while you recount that day, as if him eating you out like a Christmas dinner wasn’t already ingrained into your mind. “This seems like a moment where that would be fitting.”

“Do you remember where we are?” He mimics your statement the last time you were both intimate in his office, in the same cadence and everything. His fingers delicately click at his mouse as he tries to think of anything else other than your thighs peeking out of that pleated skirt you’re wearing, directly next to his hand.

“If I remember correctly, that didn’t matter last time…”

“The circumstances were very different,” he immediately counters. 

It’s true, to an extent; the timing was more on par for solitude. Regardless, he knows he sounds like the biggest hypocrite at the moment, even more evident by the roll of your eyes he catches out of the corner of his. He leans back in his chair and runs his hands through his hair. Sometimes he wishes he was more adventurous, less concerned about the consequences, and more accepting of the thrill of things. When he’s thinking of these things, it’s not even for his sake, but yours. He can’t handle the thought of you losing your degree due to his selfishness. And yet, he can’t help the arousal building from those thoughts about your mischievous side. You’re able to pull that side out of him so easily.

“And yet, you’re hard,” you say quietly when your eyes fall to his ever-so-inviting lap, a blithe little chuckle following. Subconsciously, he covers himself over his slacks. “Are you scared of getting caught even with the door locked?”

“____, it's 2 PM and we're in my office with many people passing by every minute. Not to mention my other students who could request me at literally any time,” he explains with a flustered smile, “This is immensely risky, you know that very well.”

“But–”

“You also know very well I’m extremely bad at being that quiet with you,” he interrupts your attempt to plead your case. Only then does he roll his head to the side and give you this look with low hooded eyes that finally make you glance away. His sentiments make goosebumps lace your skin because— fuck —yes you know he didn’t like being quiet. That was honestly an understatement. The heaving, moaning, and endless praise were only the start of what you could pull from the man during your escapades. 

You ponder for a brief moment, contemplating just letting it go, but end up pursing your lips and resorting to those famous eyes you give Yeosang when you want something unattainable.

“Please Yu, just let me give you a good blowjob. It'll be quick and quiet, I promise.”

He just can’t say no when you look at him like that, so he sighs, “I guess…”

“I also have an idea.”

Yunho is not sure what he initially expected when those words came out of your mouth, but surely it didn’t include the way your hands slip under your skirt and tug your panties down your legs. He’s sure his entire face is a deep shade of scarlet when you hold them out for him. It doesn’t help that they're visibly wet. 

“Maybe this can help you stay quiet, you know?” You suggest this while motioning to your face. He understands, of course, but he feels like this will just make things worse. So much worse. It’s confirmed when he feels his pants tighten from merely holding them in his hands. Still, he agrees and nervously pushes his chair back. After sinking under the desk, Yunho pulls his chair forward with enough room for you to sit on your knees comfortably. At least there was no way you would be seen if something strange were to arise.

Undoing his belt is one of your favorite parts, the anticipation visible in his ansty hands when he doesn’t know where to put them while you work it off. Your fingers tug lightly at his pants zipper before you dip your fingers past the hem of his waistband and pull them down quietly. He makes sure to lift his hips a little for you to slip them past just enough. You take one glance at his slightly flustered face before you pull his length from out the hole of his boxer briefs. It’s so hard that it hurts, leaking a copious amount of precum and making quite a mess.

“There are people outside the door,” he voices his nerves again at the last minute, peering at the shadows of feet passing the door, and then back down at you. 

“Didn’t know you had such an exhibitionist kink then,” you poke fun at him in a whisper, noticing how much he’s twitching once the words leave his lips. A teasing laugh slips from your lips and he groans in frustration, his empty hand moving to cock to stroke himself lazily.

“I do not have an exhibitionist kink,” Yunho snaps back with a huff. His cheeks are so flushed with chagrin, and it amuses you because if he really was that scared, he’d simply tell you no. He’d turn you away with that stern voice he rarely uses and suggest a different place and time. But Yunho wants this as much as you want it, despite what his mouth may say in the meantime.

“Ready?” You remove his hand and let a long string of saliva fall from your tongue onto his tip, just enough for lubrication. Then, you place your hands around his shaft and start stroking him yourself, mixing the spit with his dribble of precum. “You seem pretty turned on by the idea of being caught, Yu.”

The endless string of soft gasps and strangled noises of air coming from him as you work your hands on him just the way he likes is enough to drive your pride up the wall. There was always something different about how you touched him that he’d never be able to fulfill himself. He’s indubitably addicted to you.

"Shit, ___–”

“Shhhh. Unless you’d prefer to get caught?” You quirk a brow curiously as you increase pressure on him so he can’t supply an answer. Instead, he kicks his head back and lets out a soft, satisfied moan that sounds similar to your name. You follow that with a tsk! and shake your head disapprovingly. “My mouth hasn’t even touched you and you’re already a mess.”

He lowers his eyes to meet yours with a pointed glare and a chill runs down your spine, “Taking your sweet time is not helping.”

You go to taunt him again but can't even finish the first word before his free hand rakes through your hair and pushes your open mouth down on his cock instead. Yunho twitches and throbs under you with a low, constricted grunt while you clutch his thighs with your nails. He’s in love with the way you look up at him so innocently, your plush lips wrapped around his length and tears prodding the corners of your eyes at the sudden intrusion. It amazes him how you’re still able to smile, eyes half-lidded as if he had just blessed your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself… Can I?” He sighs out, implying letting him use your mouth as he sees fit. 

The hum you release around his length and the way you relax your jaw confirm his request. Yunho holds you gently on either side of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly before guiding you up and down his cock at a leisurely speed. Occasionally, he accidentally prods at the back of your throat and elicits a choked moan. He whispers his apologies each time even though he has nothing to be sorry about, but it’s just a habit. He winds his hand in your hair and pulls his cock out a bit to focus your mouth on his tip, bucking his hips in short, hasty thrusts and reveling in the way it draws sloppy noises from your mouth while you seal your lips around his tip to keep from making things too messy. The panties pressed to his face with his other hand aren’t doing much to repress those grunts that come from deep within his chest.

“Feels so good,” he pants softly from under the fabric, lips fixing to whimper, “Am I going too fast?”

You moan around his length once more, shaking your head and blinking away any remaining dampness from your lashes.

“If it’s ever too much, tell me to stop and I'll stop,” he insists affectionately, but those dark brown eyes are fixated on yours with blown-out irises and deep carnal cravings. 

He can’t expect you to ever want him to stop when he looks like that, right? Of course not. You take everything he gives you like the good girl he already knows you are, the sounds of your squelchy throat filling the silence and bouncing off the walls of his office. As much as you try to keep things clean, you can’t help the flood of saliva dripping onto his underwear the faster he fucks into your mouth. You can tell his orgasm is growing closer and closer by the way his thighs start trembling. 

And even though Yunho thinks he hears a sound closer to his office door than his comfort would allow, he continues his pace. Your eyes are closed, focused solely on breathing, so you aren’t aware of the way his attention is elsewhere. His eyes stayed trained on the silhouette of feet at the bottom of the door’s threshold, and there’s a fleeting thought of whether he should stop. That thought is overwritten with pure lust, spurred on by the way you reach up and begin to massage his balls the best you can from your position. Yunho bites down on your panties, muffling the whine bubbling from his chest. A moment later, your panties fall from his mouth and his hips lose all rhythm.

“Fuck ____– cumming,” he groans a little too loudly, but his head is somewhere deep in outer space, brain screaming at him for release, “Where?”

You open your mouth just the slightest bit wider to emphasize that you want him to cum down your throat. Yunho halts his hips altogether and you feel his cock throb in your mouth as he finally releases everything he has to offer. He’s no longer concerned with who may or may not be lurking at the door; the only thing he can focus on is the way you lock eyes with him while swallowing his essence and sucking him clean after the fact. Nothing else matters at this moment but you.

Friday’s class ends earlier than normal when Yunho gets through his lecture for the period faster than expected. 

“I need you to help me dye my hair soon if you have some time,” Yeosang says the moment people begin to stand and leave. You glance over to find him grimacing while looking into the camera of his phone, “I think I need to go back to pink or something, the brown is just not doing it for me.”

“I knew it wouldn’t last long,” you snort while filling up your backpack, “You’re just not used to having natural colors anymore.”

“I can’t even argue with that, my love.”

You ruffle a hand through his tresses before he finally stands to his feet, and you follow suit. Then, you toss a couple of things around in your mind about your schedule as you both walk down the lecture hall stairs before suggesting, “Actually, you could come over tonight if you already have the supplies.”

“Fuck, you’re the best. I’ll bring dinner too?”

Before you can even answer, a voice calls your name and steals your attention. Surprisingly, it’s Wooyoung of all people approaching you both. You can’t even hide the disinterest you feel in acknowledging him, it’s written all over your face. 

“Do you mind if I speak with you privately for a moment?” he inquires, motioning towards his chair.

Yeosang meets your eyes inquisitively before stepping away and telling you he’ll meet up with you later. The class has emptied when you both venture over to Wooyoung’s seat, and he begins searching through his bag for something in particular.

“Is there an issue with something I submitted?”

“Not necessarily,” he replies. “I suppose I just want some insight.”

He pulls out the notebook he uses for tracking grades in this class and places it on the table. People always find it a bit weird that he prefers to do things by hand first before electronically and, sure it might be more work than necessary, but he prefers to have both methods.

“I’m a pretty meticulous person, ____. I noticed that there’s a discrepancy in the grades for last week’s short essay assignment,” Wooyoung begins in a honeyed voice, “Though, the only discrepancy was on yours.”

“I’m not sure why you’re coming to me about this when Mr. Jeong handles things like this,” you respond indifferently. “I would ask him about the mistake.”

Wooyoung smiles and leans forward on his elbows, “That’s the funny thing, I did. He told me that he had made the change himself and not to worry about it. No other explanations.”

“Well again, he’s the teacher, so it sounds pretty open and shut then.”

“It’s never that simple, ____. I looked back and noticed this has happened a few times throughout the last month, actually.”

“If you’re just going to keep badgering me about grade changes I have nothing to do with then I’m gonna end this conversation here.” To be honest with yourself, there’s a part of you deep down that’s cursing profusely at Yunho for messing with your grades, and so openly at that. This is something you had explicitly made clear you didn’t need or want, but he had done it anyway. This is something you would have to chastise him about later in a very serious conversation. That’s the only concern on your mind as you start taking steps toward the doors and wave with a flick of your wrist, “Anyways, I’ve gotta go. I have other obligations for the day.”

“You mean like sucking off your teacher again?”

You cease all movement and turn back towards him, “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, that came out a little blunt, didn’t it?” He holds his hands up in remission. “It’s just not hard to put two and two together when your ear is pressed to a door and all you hear is choking, you know?”

“I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about, but I’m offended you think I’d need that to pass a class anyway,” you reply indignantly. Still, there’s this slight feeling of panic pooling in your stomach.

Wooyoung gives you a knowing look, “You’re going to play stupid, really?”

“Look, I really don’t have the time for this—”

“I suppose we could ask the Dean what she thinks about things then? He said your name quite a few times, luckily,” Wooyoung interrupts you and suggests instead. His eyes flicker down to his phone and a pure look of fear at the thought that he possibly has a recording of you and Yunho’s depravity slates your face. “Oh, that got your attention.”

His laugh that follows that statement hits you right in your gut.

“My God, you’re an absolute asshole,” you seethe, but stop yourself before you can say anything worse. You’re well aware that being mean won’t get you on his good side. Instead, you calm yourself and rub your temples before asking, “What do you want to keep quiet, money? I don’t have much to offer but I can figure something out.”

“Listen, ____,” he says as he leans back in his chair and clasps his hands together, “I have a simple proposition that could make all of this just disappear.”

“Spit it out already then.”

“I want you to pretend we’re together for a little bit, publicly. Just enough time to make my ex want me back. Then, we can call it quits and go about our lives as if none of this happened.”

You can’t help the scoff that comes out of you, “You want me to fake date you to make your ex jealous, or else you’re going to essentially ruin my life. Is that what I’m hearing?”

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound evil,” Wooyoung points out with a hefty sigh. He slumps in his seat, “I’m not an evil guy, I would just like some help. That’s all. And you’re just not really in a position to say no, unlike others I’ve asked.”

“There’s a reason why those people said no, obviously,” you retort bitterly. He lets your sharp words roll off his back and simply smiles; there’s nothing you could say that would help your position and he knows this. It’s mid-November and graduation is in approximately a month. Surely it shouldn’t take that long for this plan of Wooyoung’s to finish, he knows this. The thought of it going on longer than necessary makes you feel physically ill though. Not to mention what Yunho would think about you having to interact with Wooyoung intimately.

“I want to make something clear as well,” he begins as if he’s forgotten this himself, “You cannot tell any of this to Mr. Jeong either. I don’t want my money for my assistant position to be compromised, obviously.”

Your brain begins to short-circuit at the thought of having to date Wooyoung openly without Yunho being aware it’s fake. The logistics in itself would cause you immense stress that you surely don’t need while closing out the end of your semester. You should very well be focusing on graduating and nothing more. Nonetheless, the last thing you want is for Yunho to lose his job because you couldn’t keep your mouth to yourself when he was already concerned about being caught that day. You don’t even care about the consequences for yourself, you’d feel immense guilt forever for ruining Yunho’s career and reputation. But, if Yunho heard that you were dating his TA, he’d surely break things off with you anyway. That thought scared you even more.

“So, would you like to exchange numbers?”

Halting your panic-stricken daze is Wooyoung’s hand surrendering his phone to you, a blank contact screen ever-so-inviting. You feel defeated, and you know this is going to end up turning out poorly, but you just can’t risk Yunho losing his job over you. When your anxious fingers snatch his phone and begin typing your information, Wooyoung sighs in contentment.

♡ taglist: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr @txt-yaomi @thisisntmyrightera @oreoqueen @jadeneliz @atinism @uarmytess @nopension @aaaaajonghooooo @tmtxtf @ateezallday @bloomyroses @shingene @likexaxdaydream @innsomniacshinestar @st4rhwa @eixila @sunflower-png @jadeneliz @witchlaughwoo @ashlurrr @justthattheatregirl @bts-army380

I apologize if I missed anyone! Thank you for reading ◡̈

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 5

Summary: You and Andy have family fun

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit sexual content, explicit langauge, unprotected sex, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, PIV sex, mentions of infidelity, depictions of an allergic reaction, baby Suede 🥺18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.4K

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Series Masterlist

“Stop,” you giggle, trying to push Andy off your back by bumping him with your ass. He likes this way too much to ever stop, and you don’t actually want him to. His mouth permanently plants on your neck as you mix up some chicken salad.

“Andy,” you can’t help but squeal. Knowing that you have things that you need to do, but he feels so good. Too good. His lips know exactly what to touch on your body, and judging by the heat radiating from his crotch to your ass, you know he’s wanting to break the bed in.

“First lunch,” it’s such a weak boundary that you’re willing to fold on.

“The only thing I want to eat is you,” his voice is so hoarse as his hips roll into you, and you feel his hardening length. Dizzying your mind immediately. Those meaty hands knead on your breasts, and you back yourself more into him. You need more. You need all of him, “See, who needs lunch?”

“Mmm,” you groan, closing your eyes as you just focus on Andy and his ministrations. Now he is the only reason you haven’t spent your weekend pacing around the house, staring at your phone, wishing that Scott would at least read that you asked him to let the kids call you this morning. Now it’s after lunch and you still haven’t got to hear their voice, or see their giggling faces.

“Andy,” you’re so weak when it comes to him, but at least the feeling is mutual. The spoon drops into the bowl, and your hand grabs his cheek, pulling him to your mouth, closer to where you need him, and you melt into him. Pushing your ass into his engorged pants, and arching your back so you can gain better access, you preen at just how hard he is for you. You need him ways you have never needed someone before.

The wait and journey were worth it, and now you didn’t feel rushed, you wanted him to fully take his time. His tongue rubs over your lips, and you part them the same way your legs part. Andy makes quick work of your button before plunging his hand down the front, and right to your core. His fingers gather your slick, and then move back to your bundle of nerves. He creates the slowest circles with not enough pressure, and you whine.

“You’re so wet for me, Doe. So very wet. How about we put this in the fridge, and then…” his movements pause, and your eyes go wider. You get a sweet smile before he’s pulling his hand out of your pants, and you spring to your bedroom. You didn’t even pause. The new bed, and bedding just feels better, and didn’t cause that awful memory to imprint in your mind. Andy hadn’t been defiled by your disgusting husband; he is still here, and ready for a life with your and your babies.

The bed hasn’t even been defiled by your boyfriend — yet. It feels good to say your boyfriend. You nearly slide into your bed as you reach for your phone, you click it on, and say hey still breathless as your beautiful babies’ faces come onto the screen.

“Hi, mama!” Suede squeals, trying to lean more into the screen. “Mama, hi!”

“Hi, Suedey, give sissy some room, too. What are you guys doing?” Audrey’s eyes look beyond the phone. You assume she’s looking up at her dad as she smiles up at him. Despite it all, you’re glad that she’s continued to have a relationship with Scott.

“Daddy and Taylor are taking us to soft play!” You hope that Scott realizes just how happy she sounds and looks. Even the bright smile on Suede’s face makes you feel more at ease. If only Scott could hold those memories in his mind, so when they ask to play with him, he understands the joy it brings.

“Chess! Me pay!”

“And daddy said he’s going to get on the trampoline with us,” both kids are smiling ear to ear, and looking beyond the phone. You miss them, but when they look at ease and this happy, it helps.

“Daddy jump! Chess!” He throws his hands up into the air, and you sigh in relief as he looks up and behind the screen again, holding his fist up for a bump. “Aye!”

“Yay!” Scott repeats. You hope that he can see how much they enjoy playing, and how much more special it is to play with their parents. Especially with Suede. Him and Scott have such a strained relationship, and he was a baby. Your children just want to make Scott happy and proud, and you think there’s a part of him that often forgets that, and it’s no longer your responsibility to remind him. He chose this path, not you.

“Na Na at?” Suede puts on a serious face, and he gives a growl. “Mama, Na Na at?”

You’re leaning over onto the bed, laying on your belly, and Andy’s fingers graze up the backs of your thighs, before gripping tightly to your ass, and he leans into frame, the kids none the wiser of how Andy’s hard cock is settled on your back, “Na Na! Me pay!”

“I hope you have so much fun, too,” Andy is such a turd, keeping his hand groping your thighs, and trying to inch back to the unbuttoned jeans, but him being so sweet to the two little on the phone is confusing your brain. “You gotta see if you can jump higher than your dad.”

“Me tan! Ump high!”

Audrey is too busy paying attention to her dad, smiling up at him to be fully involved with the conversation. She misses him so much. They had a sweet bond sometimes. Even if her dad pushed her academically, he also made time to play with her. “Alright, tell your mom bye,” of course he wouldn’t acknowledge Andy’s presence. Just for that comment, Andy’s hand moves from your thigh to in between your cheeks, and under you, cupping your throbbing cunt. And his face is the picture of innocence.

“Mama bye! Na Na bye! Ove ooo!”

“Love you, Suedey. Bye, sissy. Have fun today, and watch bubba.”

“Okay, mommy. I love you,” and with that, Scott’s finger comes into view as he clicks the end button too quickly, and you just stare at where their smiling faces once were. You suppose Scott didn’t want to hear if Andy loved his kids or not. You’re at least happy that Suede wasn’t crying, and that Audrey is being her smiling self. It hurts when they’re away, but them having fun makes it more bearable.

Andy grabs the phone out of your hand, and flips your body over, having you lay on your back before he sinks to his knees. Carefully removing each sock, “I think you need to take a day off and get a pedicure,” you roll your eyes, but his hands slide up your legs, and up to your hips where he starts tugging at your still undone jeans.

“I’m serious,” he whispers, kissing over your panties. Starting at the elastic before dipping lower, and lower. He didn’t pull the pants low enough, so you can’t even spread your legs further, and give him access to where you want him, “Why so needy, honey?”

His voice is like silk as it rumbles right at the start of your split. “Mmm,” you whine more than moan. Trying to tug your jeans down, and then your panties. You want him and need him over every inch of you.

He chuckles, jerking your jeans completely down, and you tug on your panties. “Uh uh,” he tsks, removing your hands, and pinning them to the sides of your body. And when you whine, he smacks at your quivering cunt.

“Andy!”

“Can you just let me enjoy myself?” You start to protest, but he flattens his tongue, and licks up your entire covered slit, and you want to drool. The way he’s obsessed with you, and making out with a different set of lips. Licking, nibbling, kissing, devouring. Close, but not close enough. Where you want him, but not how you want him. Your lace panties are ruined. Soaked through and you don’t know if it’s your juices or Andy’s, and it’s probably both.

He moans like he is eating a delectable dessert. Laving up every bit of your honey, and you’re so into this moment. Forgetting where you are, and just feeling him. And when he slips the thin material to the side, he smiles up at your wrecked face before gorging himself on your slick. Stabbing two thick fingers into your hole while he sucks on your clit. In and out. In and out. He makes excellent work on two forms of stimulation.

Andy then presses on your stomach, adding a bit more pressure there, and it’s as if he opened nerve endings you didn’t know existed. Everything becomes more sensitive, like you can feel every bit of his calloused fingers, and exactly what part of your pillowy walls they’re touching. Curling his fingers, he drives harder into you, and you scream his name up at the ceiling like a prayer, mixing in non-words to emphasize the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Asking for him to have mercy on you as a deep rooted coil twists tight in your belly. A feeling you’re familiar with, but then it’s so much more prominent. It’s toe curling. It’s out of body. It’s a high you could become addicted to.

You try to lift off the bed, and can’t, he presses down harder, and with this odd amount of pressure, things build. Build. Harder. Tighter. Heating up. You whimper out his name in a long laborious moan, and your dam breaks. Juices spray over Andy’s face and down his shirt, and his movements slow.

Going slower each second as he coaxes you down from your high, and he leans back on his ankles, panting, and smiling at you. His chest heaves right along with yours, and you sit up on your elbows, smiling at him. “What was that?”

“Well,” he licks his lips, and you look down at his soaked shirt. If you didn’t remember what his shirt looked like beforehand, you would wonder how the cotton became drenched, “You learned a new trick.”

“No,” you giggle, watching as he removes his ruined shirt. You’ve never been a woman obsessed with tits, but his are massive. So pillowy and still hard. Still so scrumptious, and you just find yourself wanting to bite and bury your face in his titties, or at least squeeze, bite, kiss, lick, or touch them. Whichever came first. “I can’t squirt.”

“You couldn’t before, but now, clearly you can, and it was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen. Maybe nobody has ever made you come so hard, and that was only with my fingers and mouth,” he stands up with his devilish smirk, yanking his pants and boxers down in one go, and his cock flares up to life. Bouncing to attention, and shining with beads of precum, and you’re so thankful you can’t get pregnant because you want nothing to separate you from Andy. As he steps out of his pants, you pull off your shirt, and it’s as if something smacks you in the gut.

You go blank as a quick flash of Taylor riding Scott jumps into your mind. Your body freezes, and you stare at nothing. You’re numb, and falling. It’s like a black hole sucks you up when you realize where you are. And then a pair of beautiful blue eyes breaks into your darkness. “Only look at me, Doe. Stay with me.”

Andy crawls onto the bed, using his thick stature to keep you spread. His throbbing cock runs through your slick and smears his precum through your opening. “Are you with me, honey?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me?”

“Like I’ve never wanted anything before,” slowly he inches into your body. Hooking his hands behind your knees he lifts up your legs. Making them follow his descent into your warmth. He pushes them wide, and makes your head and legs go in ‘the same direction. Keeping you spread and at an angle that he can bury himself to the hilt. Not stopping until the spongy tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you sigh.

“Andy, I love you, but I’m ruined,” he deserves someone better than you. Someone that didn’t have all this baggage, and an impending divorce on the horizon.

“I know. You’re ruined by me. But you, my beautiful sweet little deer, are not ruined. You’re perfect. I don’t care if you have your moments. Just keep your eyes on me. It’s just us, okay?” You nod your head, breathlessly trying to stay with him. As he slowly rolls his hips into your body. “Give me a good reason. Just one good reason.”

You gulp, “Because it’s always been you,” Andy draws himself out of you, and pushes back through slowly, and you feel that thick vein drag through your weeping cunt. You feel every inch of him. “It was only ever you,” your eyes stay locked on him. Only on him. You didn’t even know where you were, you just know you are with him. Only him. Nothing else matters but the way that Andy has you fully filled.

All you have ever wanted were moments with him. Adult moments that you two only ever talked and teased about. The two of you connect as one with no barriers, just like now. Wet hot skin on wet hot skin. The way he would enjoy filling you up with his seed, and then his child. The way you thought up names for your unborn children. All of this was supposed to be for him, and now you can’t give it to him. Except the one thing he really wants.

“We’re not in a rush,” he assures you, his pace starting to pick up. Each thrust met with a grunt from his voice, “And we’re already a family,” tears fill your lash line. You didn’t know how this man could be so perfect, but it wasn’t the same. “We’ll adopt. Or have a surrogate,” you keep looking into his eyes so full of sincerity. You’ve never wanted intense eye connect with anyone during sex, except Andy. You would bare your soul for him, “Or we could get lucky.”

Smirking, he rolls the two of you over without leaving your warmth, keeping you on top. He pulls your hands to his chest, and he grips onto your hips so tightly. His eyes gaze upon you like you’re the most perfect thing in the world. Like you’re a goddess that is so precious to him. You move over him once.

“Use me, Doe. I am here for you to use. Take out your anger and frustrations on my body. Enjoy yourself. Claim it back,” with every word he says up to you, you move faster. Harder. A grind turns into bounces. “There she is. You feel so good. I love you, and we’ll do what we have to. But I’m yours. All of me is yours, and it always was.”

You ride on top of him so fast, and still hold his stare. He meant it. Meant every word. And you need to hold them inside of you, and want to protect those promises. Scott might have dragged you down little by little, but he didn’t destroy you. Your babies didn’t allow him. “I’m. All. Yours,” he repeats as you slam your body over his, over and over again. Sucking him in so deep that you see stars.

Andy’s voice is pained as he tries to stave off his orgasm. “Let go, baby. Let go for me. Let me feel your body surge around me, so I know that you are mine. Every inch of you is mine. You belong to me,” and everything tumbles down to the ground. He didn’t take down your walls brick by brick, he sent in a wrecking ball and destroyed them. Obliterated anything that separates you and him. Perfectly at the same time, euphoria cocoons the two of you in a matrimony of pleasure and the sweetest sin, and you sigh as Andy’s hot cream coats the inside of you.

You will never get tired of this feeling. The way his sticky heat fills every inch of you, and you hope one day, any day could connect the two of you together with Andy’s flesh and blood. You want to give that to him so badly. It’s what he deserves. He pulls you into his chest as he peppers kisses over your lips.

“We wasted so much time not doing this before.”

“We were too young, and we were terrified of getting pregnant before you finished law school,” while the sex is amazing, there’s something almost sweet about him softening in you, and dripping out of you. “I saw on the internet there’s these blankets that are waterproof. You just lay them over your bed, and your bedding doesn’t get, well, you know — wet.”

“Filthy and drenched in your squirt.”

“Stop! I did not squirt.”

“You most certainly did, and I drank it all up. We’ll get you your fancy blanket,” he stares at you a moment, no words between you, just putting this moment into his core memories. “Doe, hypothetically speaking, our plan was never to have you working,” leave it to Andy to bring into question your job.

“Our plan didn’t involve me in paying for a divorce, and no, I will not allow you to pay for it. This is something I need to do on my own.”

“But,” you push a finger up against his mouth, silencing him.

“I need to do this,” Scott is your problem. You loved Andy for giving you the support that you desperately need, but you also need to handle your shit.

“But you could be at home with Suede.”

“Don’t tease me! Yes, I would love to be at home with my baby, but this is my problem, and I need to resolve it, and then we’ll talk about everything else.”

“Give him the house,” you roll your eyes, starting to look away, but he squeezes your cheeks with his fingers and thumb, making you look at him, “It can take awhile to find one. We’ll casually be looking for our home. But he can have this house. Not have him move in it now, you need it for the kids. But you heard what I said, I won’t be living here, and I won’t be living without you. Now, say, ‘Okay, Andy,’” you start to giggle, and he stifles his own laughter, “No, say it.”

“Okay, Andy. And in the meantime,” he gives you every bit of attention that you have longed for in years. Nothing else matters but you. “I think — you should — start staying some nights here.”

“You’re sure?” This is a huge step in general, but when you have children, and this is their space, it’s different. This is their space, their home. And you can’t make them feel uncomfortable.

“Or every night,” you can’t look away from him if you wanted to. You’ve never lived with Andy, and this is what you’re suggesting. You have a deep desire to beg him to move in. You didn’t want to spend a single second without him, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“You’re the one that needs to be comfortable. This is yours and the kids' home,” and you understand that. You just want him ot be part of the equation.

“I know. They already want slumber parties with you. There’s empty space in the closet,” you hadn’t bothered with expanding your own clothes. Spreading everything out wide, and having the closet all to yourself.

“What are you suggesting?”

“If we’re going to be buying a house, we could save money if you sold the condo,” Andy nods. Things right now are more talk, but he knows Scott could have stipulations on you while you’re going through a divorce. And part of those stipulations could be where Andy lives. He’d make something up about someone not being able to officially move in with you. But six out of seven days isn’t fully living here.

You hum as a sleeping Andy pulls you closer to his front, his own taut body curling into yours in the perfect spoon. You’d been awake for a bit, but wanted to just soak him up this morning, knowing the kids are snuggled up in their beds, unaware that Andy had stayed the night. You worry how they’re going to react to seeing another man in the bedroom, even if they were excited about the new bed.

His soft beard tickles on your neck as he inhales, and you can’t help but to trace the vein on his arm. You could get used to this too easily. It’s so perfect. So comfortable and cozy, and today is going to be a perfect day. It is your weekend, and it is a beautiful fall day to spend with your family. Yes, Andy is part of that family, and if your kids didn’t adore him as much as they did, you might think twice about him staying until they wake up.

His lips pucker against your skin, and his breathing changes. Silly man, he is kissing you in his partial sleep addled state. You wonder how light of a sleeper he is now because you already hear the door to Suede’s room crack open. Can hear his heavy footfalls as he goes to see if his sissy is awake. There’s only minutes from him going in there until they’re padding down the stairs. Suede scooting more than anything.

Slowly they creep into the living room, and you hear Suede gasp, “Mama at?” His voice hurts you a bit because he sounds concerned. He’d become too accustomed to you sleeping on the couch.

“She wouldn’t leave us,” Audrey breathes in deeply, sniffing the air, “She’s not cooking.”

“Bed?”

“You go check.”

“Ooo.”

“I think you should,” they go back and forth a few times, and Andy kisses the back of your neck for real this time. It is a little bit groggy, but he does it.

“You are scaring them. Just say their names.”

“Shh,” you want them to genuinely just spot Andy when they come through the door. It wouldn’t be too much longer now. Their footfalls get louder, and then the sweetest mama whispers off Suede’s mouth the same time as the door starts opening, and his head peeks through first with Audrey shortly after.

“Mama?” The question on his voice is easy to infer. Easy enough for Andy to sit up so Suede can see his face, and he giggles, dashing to the bed along with Audrey. They’re both so fast, and then pulling their bodies onto the bed, and looking at the two of you. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to the pumpkin patch today.”

“Aye!”

“And we’re going right after breakfast,” Andy responds. You look at both kids and realize that you’re all smiling, including Andy. “So we should get started right now!” He sits fully upright so quickly that you all three start laughing. “Doe, you want to pack us some snacks for the day, and then I’ll make some breakfast?”

The amount of times that you realize how much more superior he is over Scott is too many to count, sometimes you wonder if this is just a dream. A figment of your imagination that you made up, so being alone wasn’t so hard.

But now, you’re going to be able to accomplish tasks so much faster because he is willing to help. He wants to get things going at the same time so it didn’t take as long. You didn’t have to be in a foul mood already because he wants to sit on the couch and watch the game. He is truly a part of the day in every sense.

“I’ll pack snacks. Let’s see what you got for breakfast.”

—

“Mommy,” Audrey gives a whisper as she tiptoes into your bedroom. You have just finished pulling on your boots. She gives a quick spin, “I really like this,” smoothing out her dress. She walks over beside you wrapping an arm around your leg, “Can we wear kinda matching clothes more often?”

“Of course sweetheart. Are you ready?” She twirls again before following you out of the bedroom, and your heart swoons at Suede in Andy’s lap. Both laid back watching Bluey, and Suede’s hand is petting on Andy’s beard. Andy in suits is hot. But Andy in flannels with your baby boy in his lap is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever laid eyes on.

“Yes! We’re ready, and look at you two, you match,” he scoots his body towards the edge of the couch, allowing Suede to get down, and he makes a sound you hadn’t really heard before, and then he walks out of the living room and towards the playroom. “I’ll have two beautiful girls with me today.”

“Ouch!” You turn around to see Suede stomping his foot, a toy falling behind Audrey, “Suedey that hurt!”

“Suede Theodore Huffman, you apologize to your sister right now,” Audrey tries to hold back tears as she kicks the block away, and rubs the back of her head. “We don’t throw things.”

“Me, too!” He screeches, tapping on his chest. “Me, too!”

“Audrey doesn’t have to say sorry, you do,” Suede normally is the average two year old. And then sometimes he has fits that typically included him not being able to tell anyways what he really needs.

“No no! Me, too!” His foot stomps again, looking at Andy. “Me, too, Na Na!” He smacks on his chest repeating his words over and over again, becoming more frustrated when you don’t understand. “Na Na! Me! Pease!”

Suede’s cheeks turn blotchy as tears stream down his face. “Bubba, it’s okay, I guess,” now Audrey is the one slamming herself down on the couch, and crossing her arms pouting. These moments are the ones you fear will cause Andy to rethink this relationship. Children are little people with emotions too big for their bodies, and things like this happen. And sometimes they happen often.

“Mama, me, too. Na Na!” You turn back to look at Andy, apologizing. He had been rubbing on the back of Audrey’s head where the block hit her. “Na Na! Me!” Your attention is back to Suede who gets that awful sound in his throat. This didn’t happen often, but during a few times when his frustration of having to vocalize something in so few words makes him so upset his breathing stops, and the crying takes over.

Dropping to your knees, you calmly kneel in front of your son. Trying to gently persuade him to breathe, so you don’t panic, “Suede, look at mommy. I need you to breathe,” it’s staggered and painful, but the screaming stops, but not he’s still unable to catch his breath.

Holding his hand you put it over your mouth. Inhaling and exhaling slowly. Methodically, “Buddy, breathe, we’ll figure it out,” his chest heaves, and he watches as Audrey runs into the kitchen. “Eyes on mommy, buddy.”

“Suede, breathe, and then you can tell us what’s wrong,” Andy squats down beside you, getting on Suede’s level instead of towering over him. Making him feel comfortable instead of making him feel fear for nothing being able to communicate. Becoming a safe space of communication instead of Scott’s screams that prolong the ordeal.

“Here, bubba,” Audrey hands him an applesauce pouch. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me,” she’s too kind, and he still will apologize once he’s calm.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Suede points at his pumpkin shirt, and then at Andy’s. Babbling as he points at you and Audrey, but always ending with his chest and Andy’s, repeating ‘Me, too.’

“Na Na.”

“Andy?” He asks, and Suede nods his head. A smile tickles the edges of his mouth when he realizes that Andy is following along.

“Me — too,” Suede exhales so slow. It’s long and drawn out, but it helps him regulate the oxygen to his lungs.

“So,” Andy looks at you and Audrey. His eyes looking over your outfits before back to Suede, “Are you upset that you don’t match mommy and Audrey?” Suede shakes his head no, tapping on Andy’s chest, and repeating Na Na. You pout, knowing exactly what he’s trying to convey.

Andy smiles and nods his head, “Are you wanting to match with me?”

“Chess!” Suede starts wiping at his eyes, and then rubs over Andy’s flannel. “Dis. Ike dis.”

“You like this? Well, does he have flannel?” If you weren’t doing a hands off policy with Andy, you’d kiss him right now. That was one of the shortest temper tantrums with Suede ever. Obviously it was the first with Andy. Again little bodies and big emotions. “First, I think you need to tell your sissy you’re sorry. And next time, maybe we can talk before you throw things?”

“Tay,” Suede walks to Audrey, and gives her a big hug. The two of them giggle a bit, “Ree.”

“Okay, go find your shirt so we get good pumpkins for the stairs,” Suede grabs onto Andy’s hand, pulling him towards the stairs, and Andy picks him up. Carrying him up the stairs to rummage through his clothes. It was a moment that could have been avoided, and yet you still feel some butterflies that your son wants to dress like Andy. Wants to match him like you and Audrey match.

You just have never thought about buying matching outfits for him because Scott never would wear that. He preferred to pick out his own clothes, and didn’t want to look cutesy. “Auds, you want an applesauce pack, too?”

“Yes, please. Do I need to help with the car?”

You can see that she’s buzzing with excitement about Suede getting to dress like Andy. His flannel pairing nicely with yours and Audrey’s outfit. “No, baby. Here you go. I’m going to put the stroller, and stuff in the car, okay?” She blows you a kiss before heading up the stairs to babysit, of course.

With there being a lot of walking, you take the double stroller in case Audrey gets tired of walking. Carrying the bag of snacks and drinks to the garage, you smile a bit at Andy’s Audi beside your mom car. While this might not be your home with him, it’s the little things of your car and his being next to each other in the garage that make you happy. It’s the big things like Andy being the one to figure out Suede’s tantrum. And the sexy things like him being a good dad and keeping Suede busy while you got ready.

It’s the way that the three of them walk into the garage. Audrey holding his hand, and Andy holding Suede. They weren’t identical, but close enough to make your baby have the biggest proudest smile on his face. The way he looks even sexier as a dad. You bite your lip as Andy hands you Suede. He leans in for a kiss behind your ear, “You’re drooling.”

Oh, he’s walking with a bit more of a swagger than before. The flannel somehow emphasizes his shapely tits that you can't get enough of. He smirks, walking past you to open the door for Audrey. Helping her get in, and you have to contain yourself enough to get your toddler in his own seat. “You look handsome, bubs. You want to dress like Andy?”

“Chess!” Blowing raspberries on his neck, you place him into his seat. “My Na Na,” oh. Oh, that hits you hard. It’s not just you falling for Andy, it’s also them. They’re falling just as hard as you. The comfort, and the lack of weirdness today. You can never be sure how children will react to change in their home. And everyday is going to be different, but today has started off so good. The tantrum wasn’t great. But the result couldn’t have been better. Especially seeing Andy and Suede dress similarly.

Suede blinks hard over at Andy, and Andy winks back before closing the door. Both of you get in together, and just so there’s not any weirdness, you wait until he backs out of the garage, and gets turned around, and you settle your hand into his. Weaving your fingers together, and Audrey giggles, but Suede beams up at you and Andy.

“So which cheesy 80s music are we listening to today?”

“No! Play Taylor Swift!”

“Tip Tip.”

“No! I don’t want to listen to Tapleton. Play Taylor!” Andy smiles in the rear view mirror before turning on some AC/DC. It isn’t what either wanted, but Suede taps his foot along with it. “After this can you put on Tapleton for Suedey, and then a Taylor song for me, please?”

“Yes, since you asked nicely, and wanted to share, Chris Stapleton is next, and then Taylor,” you settle into the ease of the ride. You didn’t care what they listened to. It is the fact that everyone is happy and together. Stealing a glance at Andy, he squeezes your hand a bit. Today is going to be a good day.

“Andy! What about this one?” Suede grunts, trying to pick up a large pumpkin, while Audrey points at the pumpkin in question. “It’s kinda blue!” They have spent the better half of the afternoon picking out pumpkins, and trying to get Andy’s attention more than yours. Running up ahead of you and Andy, just to stop and make sure you’re both paying attention.

You had caught Andy’s prideful smile as the employee helping you on the hayride commented on his beautiful family. He smiled so big as he thanked him, and then clamored behind you and Audrey. Suede rarely left Andy’s arms, or lap, or hand. He has found him his buddy, and he clings to him constantly.

There’s a tiny part of you that is ridiculously jealous, but another part that loves that he has someone that Suede feels comfortable with. Someone he’s proud of. A man that he has chosen, too. “Can we have this one on the steps?”

“Chess. Ugh…big!” Suede stops trying to pick the pumpkin up, but points at it, until Andy leans over to grab it. You get a cheeky look at his scrumptious rump, and Suede keeps a hand on the pumpkin, ‘helping’ of course.

“Don’t ever stop checking me out, Doe,” he whispers, putting the pumpkin in the wheelbarrow. He drives you crazy with his whispers. These private flirty conversations with just him drives you wild!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” how has life turned so happy? There’s an intensity, but it’s not tense. You keep calling it easy, but even that doesn’t fully explain everything. Comfort. Joyful. Cute. Hot. Sexy.

“Did you know you do this clicking noise with your tongue when you’re thinking about what you want to do to me?” the kids have already run off again, and you can look at them as an excuse not to stare at your beyond sexy boyfriend. “They have three more pumpkins to pick, and then we get to decorate the stairs for fall. Tell me you weren’t checking me out.”

“I shouldn’t lie.”

“You’ll admit that, but not that you make a noise? It must be involuntary then, hmm? It’s kinda hot though, so don’t stop. I love knowing I turn you on,” he steals a kiss before returning to the wheelbarrow, but first he pulls up his flannel shirt to give you a better view of his ass before following the kids. He’s in a flirty and cheeky mood today, and you’re loving it.

The both of you decided to let the kids guide the way in the corn maze. You and Andy stay behind as their giggling little voices trail ahead, discussing which way they’re going to turn. “I really like today,” Andy says out of nowhere. His eyes have stayed on them just as much as your own, and the way that he hasn’t hesitated to hold onto your hand.

“I’ve always wanted these moments with you, ya know?” Audrey and Suede stop at a crossroads, trying to figure out which way to go, and Andy pulls you in for a hug, and a quick peck. Releasing you before they make the decision. “It’s so simple, but these moments are just — the best. Can we make this a tradition? Pumpkin patch on the second weekend in September?”

“I love that idea. And,” you start walking once they’ve decided the direction they want to go. “I always wanted these moments, and I think I lied to myself in thinking that anyone could have replaced you.”

Andy sighs, squeezing your hand a few pulses. “Because I know how much you enjoy this, and want this, and you’re going to treasure these moments just as much as I do. So thank you. Their dad never did things like this with us. If we did this, it was just me and them. I think Scott just wants to do what he wants to do, when he wants to do it.”

“Daddy!” You and Andy both start walking faster as Audrey turns a corner, but Suede comes running back to you, holding his hands up for Andy to pick him up. Andy scoops him up right as you hear Taylor’s obnoxious cheery squeal.

“Oh, great,” groaning, you decide to be cordial. They’ve already spotted Audrey, so it’s not like you can hide. “Hey, Scott. Taylor,” you nod. With Scott holding Audrey, you see Taylor put her phone back in her pocket, a photo clearly just being taken. No doubt she’ll add some stupid caption on her Instagram, pretending to be the perfect step mom.

“Took you long enough to check on our daughter,” he emphasizes ‘our’ when he sees Andy holding Suede. “What are you doing here?” The bigger question is why is he here with Taylor, and wouldn’t be caught dead here with your and your children.

“I thought that the kids would like to enjoy some fall activities,” if Scott knew anything about Andy, he’d know how clipped his words seem, and just how irritated he sounds. “Tell your dad how many pumpkins you picked out,” Suede’s head picks up from Andy’s chest, and he holds both hands up.

“Ten pumpkins, huh? Wow. If you want, Scott and I can take the kids, and you and — whoever this is can have some time alone,” Taylor’s smile is sickeningly sweet. You want to like her, but the image of her disrespecting your marriage can never be forgiven, even if it was an already ruined marriage.

“Oh, no, they’re fine. We haven’t even got to see the kids’ play area,” some people didn’t understand you could have fun with Andy and the children. Knowing Scott as soon as he got a free moment without kids, he’d sneak her off somewhere to get in a quickie.

“Oh, it’ll be nothing. Suedey, you want me to hold you?”

“No,” Suede lays his head back on Andy’s chest, and you almost feel sorry for Taylor. Almost. She’s trying to win against you, and now Andy. She might be able talk Audrey into walking around with them, but never your son.

“Baby, it’s fine. They don’t need help with the kids,” vomit. Baby. You wonder if he realizes how gross it sounds to be calling this twenty-three year old baby, when he’s twenty years older than her. She’s literally young enough to be his baby. This relationship shouldn’t have moved past sex.

“I think they need to babysit their mom and Andy anyways, huh, Barber?” Ugh, Scott is such a pig. Everything has to be about sex. One day he would realize you and him have built a relationship that extends past the physical parts.

“You two know each other?” She’s fucking clueless. Of course she is, she could barely understand the nuances between you and Scott.

“Barber here is the DA.”

“What’s a DA?” You look at Scott instead of her. How could he not truly explain his career with his fiance? She truly is a clueless ditz.

“District attorney,” Audrey giggles. She does a little dance in between the four of you, oblivious to an odd pisisng contest between Andy and Scott.

“Oh, so you’re like a lawyer?”

Andy’s grin is so condescending as he looks at Scott, his brows raised a bit. Her age shows with more than just her looks, “Yeah, I’m the chief prosecuting officer. I’ve been in court against Scott a few times.”

“So you’re like the bad guy?” Scott presses his hand on his temple in annoyance, and Andy just shrugs. You hope he enjoys every stupid conversation with her.

“Depends on who you think the good guy is.”

“Andy wants to become a judge,” Audrey adds. Smiling up at Andy as she does so. She lifts her hands up to you, and you pull her up in your arms, even though Scott clears his throat. You dare him to tell you not to hold her, ‘she’s too big to be held.’ She’ll be held if that’s what she wants.

“The man with a hammer! That’s really neat,” neat? This girl was meant to only be a babysitter. You seriously question the fact that Scott has this woman helping him on his weekends. Who is having questions that a child would be asking.

Audrey giggles again, “It’s not a hammer, silly goose, it’s called a gravel.”

“Gavel,” Scott can correct his daughter, but not his grown fiancé, “Baby,” Scott clears his throat again, leaving Taylor to smile awkwardly at him. I guess he found a woman that will pick up on his clues for behaving, unlike you… “It’s their — her weekend to have the kids. And how and who she chooses to spend her weekend with at this time is her prerogative.”

“Andy has been the only person sharing our weekends with us. But you two have a great time. I’m sure you’ll get lots of photo opportunities for instagram,” her genuine smile makes you feel bad for making fun of her interest in posting aesthetically pleasing photos. She’s young, that should be what she’s doing. Not becoming a stepmom. And yet your care also just wasn’t there.

“I know! They have these amazing caramel apples. Want to see my pictures? Oh!! The kids will love them. They have some with pecans and chocolate, and one with walnuts and…”

“Suede can’t have walnuts,” Audrey interjects. Frowning as she looks at her. “He could die!”

“Oh, that’s right. Little nugget. No matter. The food they have here is amazing!”

“She usually packs Suede lunch. He has to miss out on food at places like this a lot,” yeah. That’s your cue to leave. If Scott wants to point out Suede’s differences and how he might not get to experience things like others, you didn’t have to listen to it. Suede’s lunches were a just in case type of thing, and you always made them fun for him!

“Well, you two have fun. Tell daddy ‘bye’, guys,” Audrey responds quickly, blowing him a kiss, but Suede won’t look at him. “Suede, tell daddy, bye. We’re going to go to the kids’ playground, and you and Audrey can run around until it's time to eat!”

“Bye, daddy,” Suede doesn’t lift his head, and barely even looks at Scott, but he waves his hand, and drops it back to Andy’s chest. His fingers gripping onto his shirt, like if he lets go that Scott can pull him off Andy. Now to grab the stroller again, and let the kids get out some energy. You try to not see Taylor as much as possible, and this is the reason why. She infuriates you.

—

“How are you feeling?” You and Andy sit at the picnic tables, while the kids play. You squint in the sunlight, keeping your eyes on them, when you really wish you could give Andy your undivided attention.

“I’m fine. I just hate that he doesn’t see how controlling he is. How he doesn’t see that he is just using Taylor as a way to make himself feel more like ‘the man’. She’s easy to control because he’s significantly smarter, and experienced in life. And he makes the money, so she shuts up and deals with it, until she’s tired of his tyranny, and most likely move onto a man that won’t have to pay child support and alimony.”

“You got all that with the interaction, too?” Peeking over towards Andy, you nod your head. “Does he really think she can be a safe option for your kids? She couldn’t even remember Suede is allergic to walnuts?”

“And she shouldn’t have to, and yet, here we are. The only thing I blame Taylor for, is the fact she was well aware that we were married. She babysat them while we went on dates. I think they both suck for that. But,” you turn your eyes away from them as you smile up at Andy. “I should thank them. We’d been in Newton for a few years now, and you were always right there. Had I met you before now, I might have been the one cheating. No, I definitely would have,” Andy leans in for a chaste kiss.

Your hand rubs up his chest, holding the kiss a few moments longer. The disintegration of your marriage is so layered. What killed you that day is the one thing that set you free. But admitting that had you known Andy was right here, you would have been the one cheating is liberating. He was always the one, and always worth it.

You revel in this moment of comfort. Hearing the sounds of kids playing in the early fall weather. It’s just happiness. Pulling off Andy, you gaze up at the most amazing man you have ever known, and know that there’s no way to explain just how much he means to you.

And of course happy moments have been short lived for some time. Suede’s blood curdling scream hits you first, and you jump up. Scanning the play area when you see his feet stomping around. Holding out his hand, while Audrey swats at something. Andy and you sprint over towards him, and you know something is worse when his cries change. It’s a sound you have never been able to get out of the depths of the darkest places in your mind.

“Andy, my bag. Get it fast,” tears blur your eyes, but you’re on autopilot going over to him. Picking up both kids and getting away from a swarm of yellow jackets, and you set both down, kneeling on the ground. Suede’s breathing labored, and his cries are completely gone as he struggles for air.

His mouth opens and closes, and no sound comes out of him. His airways cut off, while tears pour from his bloodshot eyes. Your sweet angelic baby turning into a nightmare before your eyes. Visions like these haunt you. Your worst fears materializing.

“Andy!” Audrey cries up at you, and you start undoing Suede’s pants, the pen working better without a barrier. Andy drops to his knees beside you, and you reach in for Suede’s EpiPen, pulling out the separate pouch, so it’s easy to grab. “Hold her,” you can’t handle her own tears when your only focus is oxygen to Suede.

Suede’s face gets all blotchy, the color changing with the lack of air, and you press the pen in his leg. Counting the seconds it takes for his airways to clear, and he looks so scared as that first strangled breath is inhaled. “We gotta go to the ER. Buddy, hey baby, just keep looking at mommy,” you wipe away the tears that stain his face. “It’s okay, baby. Andy is going to get us to the ER, okay?”

“Mama,” his voice is the sweetest thing right now. Even if it’s difficult for him. Even if everywhere on his body is swelling. “My mama,” how many times did those fucking beasts sting him?

“Yeah, baby, mommy is right here. Andy and sissy are getting everything, and we’re going to make sure my baby is okay?” You are already making your way to the parking lot. Andy can handle Audrey and the stroller, you just want your baby out of the crowd, and away from all the people asking if he’s okay. It’s just you and him. He needs to just see you.

“Mommy?” Audrey meets you in the parking lot, and hugs both your legs. “Can you sit in the back with us?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Did you get stung, too?”

“Just once, but Suedey had them all around him. I couldn’t get them away.”

“My brave strong amazing girl, you did amazing. You showed no fear when it came to yourself and bubba. You did perfect, baby, and I’m so proud of you,” she knows you’re upset with a steady flow of tears running down your face and dripping to your neck, but she hugs you back nonetheless.

“Alright, come on,” Andy helps Audrey into the car, buckling her up, and you shudder to think you have to put Suede out of your arms. You just want to hold him, so you can feel his breathing. “Doe, honey, if you want to hold him, you can get in the third row. Never feel bad about it.”

“You’re sure?” You rarely question what you’re doing as a mother, but right now, hearing that it’s okay has relief rushing through your body. The adrenaline finally subsiding, and your fear spikes. You’re so exhausted, but the thoughts of putting your son in his car seat is making your heart race. The fear of seeing him like that can never be erased. Add that to the fucking list of allergies that he has to endure.

“Of course, honey. Let’s get him to the ER. Here, I’ll hold him, while you get in. Just make sure to hold Audrey’s hand, okay?” You nod as you hand Suede to Andy. Knowing how much harder this would be if you were alone. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay because it has to be.

It’ll be okay.

He’ll be okay.

They’ll be okay.

You don’t even matter anymore.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

[redroomreflections]

All Play, No Work

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Not Easily Broken Universe

Masterlist | General Masterlist Summary: Reader walks in on their son yelling at Natasha

Natasha thought it was a simple request. One she’s asked him plenty of times before. It’s time for dinner and she needs him to put his toys and video game away. The mountain of toys and blankets around him signals he’s had his fun. Video games weren’t even allowed on school nights but she let him have it this time.

“Toys away please,” Natasha requests. “Say goodnight to your friends. You’ll see them tomorrow at school.” Ryan nods his head mindlessly the first time. His hands never leave the buttons on his controller. If anything, his fingers move even faster. He understands what she’s asking but he’s too into this round of Fortnite to actually do it. Just ten more minutes. All he needed was ten more minutes. Natasha wasn’t going to press him. He usually listens. Though these days he’s been testing his limits more and more. With a sigh, she goes back into the kitchen to finish prepping for dinner. It’s the first family dinner the four of you have had in a while. You and Emma stepped out to the store only an hour ago to pick up rolls. Emma’s favorites.

Natasha is finally putting the finishing touches on her baked salmon before she can put it into the oven. All of those cooking classes you two took years ago finally paid off. Her lack of cooking skills was her only weakness and you both joked about it constantly. Now, she was insanely good. Her need to perfect the craft-making her even more willing to try new recipes. And she wanted to be able to feed her children healthy meals. Natasha opens the oven with one hand while shoving the glass casserole dish onto one of the racks. She closes the door and walks over to begin chopping cucumbers for the salad. She loses track of time lost in her own world as she prepares the rest of dinner.

A scream from Ryan pulls her from her thoughts. Natasha sets her knife down. Hadn’t she told him minutes ago to put it away?

“Come on, go faster,” Ryan yells from his seat on the couch. Natasha walks with measured steps into the living room. She stands in his line of vision so that he can see her.

“I asked you to put it away, Ryan.” She interrupts his talking. He pretends to ignore her only sending her a glance.

“In a minute,” He hyper focuses on the screen in front of him. He’s having too much fun to finish now.

“Did you finish your homework?” Natasha asks. He’s seven. Of course, he didn’t. Even after she asked him to bring it to her to check.

“I can do it before the bus comes,” Ryan says.

“No, that’s not an option, especially when you don’t even like waking up early enough to finish the homework,” Natasha did not want to deal with a tired kid dragging his feet over addition and subtraction. “Off, now.” Natasha holds out her hand to take the controller from him. She waits, with a sliver of patience, for him to hand it to her.

Ryan smacks his lips. He makes a sound akin to a growl as he presses a few buttons to quickly turn the game off.

“This isn’t fair, AJ’s mom lets him play for however long he wants,” Ryan frowns.

“I’m not AJ’s mom,” Natasha replies. “I gave you more than enough time to play and to pick up your toys. Your mom and Emma will be back any minute and we’re eating dinner as a family.”

“Well, I wish she was my mom. She’s fun,” Ryan mutters. “I don’t want any stupid dinner.” He adds as an afterthought.

Natasha frowns. His anger is far and infrequent since you’ve been around more but he’s definitely still testing his boundaries.

“You don’t have to eat but you do have to put your things away,” Natasha says. She’s not going to argue with him on why he should. She’s not one of those parents that are controlling every aspect of their child’s life but she’s also not a pushover.

“I don’t have to do what you say!” Ryan stands from the couch. He’s barely taller than Natasha’s shoulders but he’s challenging her.

“Ryan Matthew Romanoff,” Natasha begins. “I’m not going to ask you again. Toys away. Video games on my dresser. If you’re going to act like this I’m not going to let you play on a school night anymore.” This seems to set Ryan off and he does something without thinking. A bad something.

You manage to catch the tail end of the conversation as you and Emma enter through the front door. He yells “I hate you,” while tossing the controller at Natasha’s head with full force. Neither of you was expecting this show of anger and you gasped when it collided with her forehead. Natasha’s quick reflexes aren’t quick enough as she stands in shock. For a second, Ryan does too. He looks up at Natasha with wide eyes and a look of fear on his face.

“Ooo,” Emma’s teasing, and surprised tone doesn’t help the situation at all. You pass her the grocery bag before walking over to them.

“Hey, that is completely unacceptable,” You shake your head. Your voice is a little louder than necessary. Just on the edge of yelling as Ryan jumps at your words. For a second he wonders if this is grounds for a spanking. You would never. Right?

“I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” You shake your head. “What’s going on?” You turn to Natasha to inspect her forehead. An angry red bruise quickly formed just above her eyebrow.

“I asked him to put his toys away,” Natasha’s hushed tone and the tears in her eyes set you off more.

“And this is how you react? Throwing things at your Mama?” You turn back to Ryan. He doesn’t respond only dropping his head to the floor. “No, don’t do that. Pick your head up. You pick these toys up like she asked and you go to your room. Leave the video game on the bedroom dresser.” It’s an instruction just like Natasha gave. He doesn't question you or say anything this time. He moves quicker gathering his toys to put in the bin in a corner of the living room. You can see Emma teasing in the corner of your eye. “Unless you want to be in trouble too I suggest you go find a seat in the kitchen or in your room.” Emma scurries away hoping not to find out what trouble means. “We’ll be back in here in a few minutes and everything better be off this floor.” You grab Natasha’s hand to pull her down the hallway into the half bath. You tap the counter to instruct her to sit on it and she does.

“Has he done that before?” You ask and it’s Natasha’s turn to avoid your gaze. “He has?” Natasha nods slightly. “I know you said he’s been getting into trouble at school but this? He’s hit you before?” Natasha nods again. You remember the phase both kids had when they were younger. As toddlers learn to express their emotions and anger. You taught them better than that. At least you thought you did.

“He gets little bursts of anger,” Natasha shakes her head. “I can’t…I don’t know what to do with that.” She admits. “Kerry says she spanks Miles when he tried it but I can’t. I can’t do that.” Natasha bites her bottom lip nervously. “He’s going through a tough time and -” She doesn’t want to resort to corporal punishment. Her own childhood was riddled with exactly that and more. She won’t put her kids through that. Not even with their less-than-good behaviors.

“That doesn’t excuse it, Natasha.” You say firmly. You bring your hand up to caress her cheek and inspect the bruise on her head. “Jesus, Nat.” You breathe. “I didn’t know it was this bad.” You know you have to nip this behavior right in the bud. Now. It was unacceptable. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine,” She lies straight through her teeth. You won’t push it. Twice now both kids have said they’ve hated her. A concept even you find upsetting. They’re directing their anger at her when it should be directed at you. Natasha doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t.

“I’m going to go and talk to him.” You say. “Take your time in here and I’ll check on dinner.” Natasha’s eyes flutter closed at the kiss you place on her head. You look her over one more time before exiting the bathroom. The first stop is the kitchen. This is where you find Emma coloring at the dinner table. She’s humming to herself and swinging her feet under the table.

“Mommy, is Ryan going to get in trouble?” Emma asks. “Because he said he hated Mama and he threw his controller at her. That’s a no-no.”

“Don’t worry about Ryan’s punishment,” You tell her. “Worry about Emma’s punishment. She told me you said that to her too.” You close the oven after checking it to come and kneel beside her. “What’s with that?”

“I was just mad,” Emma shrugs.

“I understand that,” You tell her. “But that’s not something I ever want to hear you say about or to her. Do you think that makes her feel good when you say that?” Emma’s feet stop swinging as she thinks about it. “Would that make you feel good if someone said that to you?”

“No,” She shakes her head.

“Well, I’d suggest we find better ways of expressing ourselves, right, Baby girl?” You give her a small smile at her look of deep thought. “We’ve gone over better methods than this. You feel angry you talk. You go to your room and take deep breaths. You try again later.” Emma nods. She understands. “Now finish your coloring while I go talk to your brother.”

“I’m going to make a picture for Mama,” Emma decides. Her little legs continue to swing as she pulls one of her crayons from the box. Maybe that will make Mama feel better.

You stand to your full height and take a deep breath. Talking to Ryan may not be as easy. You go to the living room first to find it cleaner than before. All toys put away, tv off, video game missing. He’s done as told. You walk next up the stairs to his bedroom. He’s lying on his bed, arms folded while looking up at the ceiling. He quickly sits up at the sight of you. You try to cool off as you sit next to his legs.

“You want to tell me your version?” You give him a chance. You’re not here to be angry with him. Even if the scene before made you upset.

“I just wanted to play some more,” Ryan shrugs. “She told me to put it away. I didn't want to.” He summarizes.

“You didn't want to,” You repeat. “And how long had you been playing?”

“I don’t know. A long time.”

“Even though it’s a school night and she already allowed you to play in the first place,” You deduce. “And instead of listening and doing as told you decided that you would hit your Mama with an object that could have seriously hurt her. Am I getting that right?”

“Yes,” Ryan mumbles with a look of guilt. He drops his head again and you shake your head.

“Hey, look at me,” You gently prod. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done that. Hit her. Or said you hate her.” You question. “You’re getting into fights at school too? You’re in the second grade. What could you be fighting about?”

“Nothing,” Ryan dismisses a little too quickly.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” You place a hand on his leg. “ Did someone say something to you?”

Ryan pauses. “ Michael said Mama was the reason that you left. Because she’s the Black Widow and she’s a killer and that she did bad things. He said his dad told him that. I told him he was a liar. I don’t believe him. Mama’s not a bad person. She’s a good person. She’s an Avenger.” Ah. That’s where his conflicted emotions come from. While he's been protective of Natasha when it comes to you, he’s also battling feeling like she’s the reason why you left.

Left.

“I’m glad you told me that,” You thank him for his honesty. “I know how confusing it must be for you to hear that about your Mama.”

“But is it true?” Ryan asks. You don’t know which part he’s referring to. “That you left because of her?”

“No,” You sigh. “Ryan I left because I had my own things going on. Nothing to do with your Mama. We hit a rough patch. It’s. It’s not easy to explain but I felt that you would be much better off without me. All three of you. I didn’t want to hurt her anymore. Your Mama didn’t make me leave.”

“Oh,” Ryan’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m always so mad. I didn't mean to hit her. I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Whether you meant to or not you did.” You lightly scold him. “You know better than to hit people. I won’t have it. Especially not with your Mama or Emma. The same goes for her.”

Ryan bursts into tears emotions too big for him to express himself properly.

“I don’t want her to leave, too.” Ryan cries. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He buries his face into your neck clinging to you as he sobs. You raise a hand to cradle him in your arms. “I’m sorry. I won’t hit Mama again. I won’t yell at her. I don’t want her to leave.”

“I know,” You whisper into his ear. You feel like complete and utter shit. Truly. You allow him to cry in your arms for a bit longer. Finally, you pull back to look into his eyes. “No one is leaving. Not me. Not Mama.”

“B-but you did leave,” Ryan pouts.

“I know and it was the biggest mistake of my life,” You admit. “Just like I said in the diner I’m working to make that up to you.” Ryan sniffles. “That also means we have to work together as a family to make sure we’re all treating each other fairly. Which means no more of those temper tantrums or outbursts.” Ryan nods.

“Can I go say sorry to Mama?” Ryan questions. You sigh again.

“Ryan, are you hearing me?” You wipe the tears from his face. “Just because you apologize doesn’t mean it’s okay if you’re just going to do it again.” Words you should live by you know.

“I hear you,” He whispers. “I’m not going to do it again. I swear.”

“I’m taking your word for it,” You said.

“Is Mama going to hate me now?” He voices his fear. “Since I did something bad?”

“No, Mama could never hate you,” You say. “Go and talk to her.” Ryan scrambles from your lap to run downstairs in search of Natasha. You stay behind to take a breather. Family therapy may not be so bad.

Ryan finds Natasha in the kitchen marveling over the picture Emma has drawn for her. Before she has time to react he’s hugging her side and apologizing profusely. Natasha removes her arm from being squished between them to wrap them around his middle.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I won’t do that again.” His words are muffled as he pushes his face into her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. I promise.”

“Okay, okay,” Natasha leans back to look into his worried brown eyes. “I accept your apology, Ryan.” He looks up at her forehead before frowning.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” He repeats.

“I know,” Natasha says. “How about we finish dinner together? Hmm. Then we can talk about your punishment.”

“No game for two weeks?” He guesses and Natasha laughs.

“Three.” She smiles at his groan.

“I guess that’s fine,” Ryan still clings to her. “I can help with cooking.” He moves back to stand just as you reach the kitchen. You’re content to watch in the background as she works around them.

No more tantrums. For today at least.

fun question - how would you have handled this ?

[aloysiavirgata]

Unremarkable house, Brother Bill, rooster

Mulder is in the big hammock out back, sprawled like a Roman Emperor. The chickens are out, pecking for bugs among the goat droppings. He has a lemon shandy in a frosty glass. He has a tomato sandwich with tomatoes from their garden and homemade bread. He has Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell next to him.

He has misgivings.

Scully enters his field of view, stage left, “Mulder, you’d better put those damn chickens away before he gets here, especially Francisco. That rooster is a complete menace.”

She glares at the enormous bird. They’ve had a few scuffles, she and Francisco. There have been Band-Aids and three stitches.

He slurps at his drink. “You don’t think your brother wants to see my big cock?”

She is silent for a long moment. Then, “I swear to God I will literally kill you, Mulder. I will shoot you and I will bury you out here and I will put a big gazebo over your grave and every time I sit in it I will think about how much you had it coming.”

She stalks back to the house.

“Jesus,” Mulder says to the chickens. “Someone is in a mood.”

***

It’s an awkward greeting, but not as awkward as he’d imagined. He and Bill have always hated each other, which makes it easy to pick up where they’d left off, like two enemy pirate captains running into one another at a bar in Tortuga.

Bill, per usual, looks like he was waiting for the Dulcolax to kick in. Douchebag plaid shorts that Rob Petrie wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot golf club.

He sweeps his sister up in a massive hug and she got rather teary and Bill, to his credit, looks a bit pink around the eyes and nose as well. He puts his sister down after a moment, smoothing her hair.

Bill and Mulder then acknowledge one another’s undeniable existence on the material plane. Shake hands like sulky but well-mannered children after a baseball game.

***

Now they’re on the deck while Mulder tends the grill, three gorgeous steaks from a neighbor’s cow before him.

“It’s beautiful out here, Dana,” Bill says.

“Mostly Mulder’s doing,” Scully replies, sipping at the wine her brother had brought. “He’s honestly a wizard with this property.” She glances at him when she says it and he smiles back.

“Really?” Bill says. “Well, color me impressed. Mulder, I had no idea you were such an adept little homemaker.”

Mulder moves the steaks to a serving platter. “Oh, sure. Dana just uses me for cooking, yardwork, and sex.”

Bill chokes on his beer and Scully closes her eyes for a beat the way Anne Boleyn must have when they led her from the Tower.

Mulder sets the platter on the table, uncovers the potato salad and the asparagus. Sourdough rolls and goat-milk butter.

“Now Bill,” he says, “you tell me if that steak is too rare and I’ll pop it right in the microwave for you. Let me know if you need anything else, some A-1 or ketchup or anything at all. I want you to feel at home.”

Absolute daggers in Scully’s eyes.

Bill coughs lightly. “Everything looks fantastic, thank you both.”

“It was good of you to make the drive, Bill,” Scully says, loading up plates with food. “I know it’s a bit of a haul.”

Bill smiles indulgently. “Couldn’t be this close to my kid sister after so long and not swing by!”

“Though we would have understood,” Mulder says, warmly. He butters a roll and passes it to his brother in law. “Never feel obligated.”

Bill narrows his eyes as he accepts the bread. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to need some new pictures of the kids,” Scully says brightly. “Matthew must have grown six inches since that school photo you sent, Bill! And Mom says Claire has lost two teeth.”

“I’ll tell Tara to send some,” Bill says, puffing up.

They eat in silence for a time. Knives cutting through the tender steaks and stabbing into waxy potatoes and young asparagus. Butter dripping down chins.

“It’s a shame William isn’t growing up here,” Bill says, wiping his plate with another roll. “Dana, how could-“

Her fork clatters to her plate and he shuts up.

A roaring silence like an event horizon.

“Bill,” Scully says, sweetly. “We have the most beautiful rooster to show you.”

[incorrectbatfam]

Could you please do some headcanons about Batmans cooking disasters over the years?

Age 5: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

Age 6: He decorates a cookie so badly another kid cries until they throw up

Age 7: He tries to make a PB&J and the countertop is sticky for a week

Age 8: He tries to make Martha's chicken noodle soup but ends up crying on the kitchen floor surrounded by half-chopped vegetables

Age 9: He tries to impress a houseguest by recreating Thomas's mixology tricks (sans alcohol). There's still a stain on the ceiling to this day

Age 10: He makes green eggs. It's not on purpose. He's never even read the book

Age 11: He makes lava in the school cafeteria

Age 12: He tries to make cheese bread by drilling holes into a baguette and filling it with melted nacho cheese

Age 13: He melts a cutting board in the oven

Age 14: He folds a Pop Tart

Age 15: The chocolate-covered bananas he makes for the school bake sale come out looking very very wrong

Age 16: He's asked to drop a home economics class after mistaking refried beans for pumpkin puree in a pie

Age 17: He boils eggs in the carton

Age 18: He makes his entire freshman dorm evacuate after burning his ramen to ash

Age 19: He sculpts a severed hand out of meatloaf and is sent to the university psychologist

Age 20: He tries to bake a cake but doesn't have a cake pan, so he pours the batter right in the oven

Age 21: He tries Thomas's mixology tricks again, this time with alcohol. One of the tricks is flipping it over his head. He ends up losing part of his vision for 3 days

Age 22: He burns water. Harley Quinn is there. She still holds it over his head

Age 23: He packs his first patrol snack as Batman. It's a chocolate bar wrapped in a tortilla. The chocolate melts onto his gloves and he drops the tortilla down a sewer grate

Age 24: He makes an ice cream cookie sandwich to eat while he and Batgirl work on a case, but he's so engrossed in the work that he doesn't notice it melt until Babs points it out

Age 25: He enters the first annual Justice League cook-off and immediately gets banned from ever entering again

Age 26: He tries to comfort little Dickie Grayson by making fried cornbread from a book of Roma comfort recipes. It turns out about as well as you'd expect when you give Bruce Wayne hot oil. Bruce is genuinely bummed out, but Dick says it's the thought that counts

Age 27: Clark delivers a huge hunk of beef from the farm. Instead of waiting for Alfred to come back, Bruce and Dick try to break it down with a power saw

Age 28: Bruce and Dick's latkes are burned so badly they can play floor hockey with them

Age 29: He makes stuffed mushrooms. Badly. Like imagine the worst way you can fuck up a mushroom. It still won't compare to what Bruce did. And it's for a potluck with the West-Allens that Barry won't let him live down

Age 30: Bruce sees Dick struggling to make ravioli and he's like "Let me show you how it's done" before proceeding to make it infinitely worse

Age 31: Bruce sees a hungry Jason Todd and the first thing he does when they return to the manor is make a double-decker bread sandwich. That's bread with two more slices of bread in between

Age 32: Bruce packs Dick and Jason's lunchboxes when Alfred is out of town. They're supposed to include a salad. Instead, Dick gets a whole head of lettuce and Jason's is just a bottle of ranch

Age 33: He makes hot chocolate after patrol... but forgets the chocolate

Age 34: The Manor is too cold, so Bruce tries to warm it up by making Jason's favorite soup. His hands shake the whole time. Suddenly, he's eight years old again, sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by scraps reminding him of his failure

Age 35: Jack and Janet Drake are out of the country again, leaving young Timmy by himself. Bruce decides to bring some dinner over. It's baked perfectly, but it's full of things that shouldn't be anywhere near a casserole dish. They end up ordering takeout and watching old detective movies together

Age 36: Steph walks through how to make waffles. Bruce is standing there, watching closely and taking notes. They still come out looking radioactive

Age 37: Cass asks if they can get smoothies. Bruce says he can make them at home. She gives him a warning look but that's not enough to stop him. Cue Bruce forgetting to put the lid on the blender

Age 38: Jason's first night back at home, Bruce tries to make that soup. It shoots out like a geyser and hits the lights. He's panicking until he hears Jason laugh, and then the soup doesn't matter

Age 39: Damian screws up hummus and he desperately tries to hide it so people won't see him as inadequate at something so basic. Instead of getting upset, Bruce assures him it's okay and offers to fix it. (He doesn't fix it, he just makes it worse)

Age 40: Bruce's birthday happens while he's fake-dead and away from home. He grabs a convenience store cupcake and sticks a single candle on it. Then he closes his eyes, pretends his family is around him, and makes a wish. (The candle droops and sets the hotel sheets on fire)

Age 41: Back at the Manor, he attempts to make lemonade on a particularly hot day. Selina offers to help, but Bruce declines, saying, "How hard can it be?" (Spoiler alert: it's not supposed to be full of seeds)

Age 42: Kate shows him a video of Canadians pouring maple syrup into the snow to make candy, so he gets her to boil the syrup so they can do it together. The problem comes when they can't control the pour and end up with a glob the size of Damian

Age 43: As part of a school project, Bruce and Duke try to deduce the Coca-Cola secret formula. Duke's teacher takes a point off because at the beginning he told her he'd taste the results, but there's no way he's doing that now

Age 44: The family gets together to make a full English breakfast Alfred's birthday. Each person takes a part—Dick has eggs, Jason has the grilled tomatoes, Tim has mushrooms, Duke has the bacon, Steph and Cass are tag-teaming the sausages, Damian just has to open a can of beans, and Bruce needs to put bread in the toaster. It goes South immediately when Damian reaches for his katana instead of the can opener

Age 45: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

[toomuchracket]

pool party (d word matty x reader fluff/smut)

day 21 of summer75, and today we have a fun little look at the reality of these fuckers' relationship before anybody knew they were a thing (aka, the one where they're both horny but can't fuck without being suspicious or caught). enjoy <3

you: do u like black or lilac better

matty 😚: in what context?

you roll your eyes, quickly firing back a reply. just pick a colour, babe

matty 😚: lilac

you: thank u <3 i'll meet you all in a min

matty 😚: hurry up please i miss u

you: will do, lover

chucking your phone into your beach bag, you giggle to yourself as you slip into a lilac bikini and sandals. there's a fading hickey the same colour as your swimsuit just under your jaw, you notice as you fix your hair in the mirror, but you don't bother trying to cover it up - hopefully, in wearing your secret boyfriend's favourite colour to a pool party where he cannot touch you at all, you’ll get more of them later.

judging by matty’s expression when you waltz out of the villa to the pool a few minutes later, more marks are a certainty tonight. you spot him as soon as you step outside, lazing insouciantly on a sunlounger, hair dripping wet and body shimmering in the sunshine, and for the briefest of moments you feel truly distraught that you can't just go and drape yourself over him, let his hand find its way to your arse as it does whenever you cuddle up to him. but the feeling passes in favour of exhilarated glee when you notice his jaw drop at the sight of you, a feeling that grows when he slides his sunglasses up to let his eyes trail better over your body. you wink at him, and he smirks, putting his glasses back on when your attention is taken by john asking if you want a drink, to which you eagerly respond in the affirmative.

all in all, you don't actually end up anywhere near matty for about an hour, preoccupied with chatting to your friends, taking pictures with the girls, eating your way through the massive fruit salad adam decided to make “so nobody gets too pissed because they haven't eaten anything”; only after that do you strategically go to sit on the edge of the pool near where your boyfriend and george are splashing each other and laughing like kids, dangling your legs in the warm water while you light up a cigarette and sip at your pornstar martini.

as soon as you exhale your first drag, george seems to materialise in the water front of you, matty trailing behind him (and looking at you like you're a three course meal). “my good friend,” he begins, all gravel drawl and grin. “might i perhaps have one of those cigarettes, please?”

“christ, you're like a bloodhound. here,” you pull the pack and lighter from your bag, setting them down beside you. as george pulls himself out of the pool to sit next to you and light up, you turn to your boyfriend. “you having one?”

matty shakes his head, eyes never leaving your body. “s'not what i want right now, darling.”

“no? alright,” you take another drag, spreading your legs slightly to give him a better look at what he does want while you sip your drink. “want a taste?”

his eyes widen, flicking up to yours in disbelief. “hmm?”

you wave your glass at him, face as saccharine as your cocktail. “of the drink.”

“oh, i- no, thank you,” matty shakes his head. “sorry. blanked for a second there.”

george scoffs. “matty, you fucking perv, she didn't mean it like that,” he turns to you while matty splutters out a response of some kind. “sorry about him, mate. doesn't know how to act around attractive women anymore cos he hasn't gotten any in so long,” he laughs, smirking when he notices the mark on your neck. “but apparently you have! good for you. i trust it was decent?”

you're acutely aware of matty, completely still in the water while he waits for you to answer - you smirk, deciding to fuck with him a little. “well, to be honest, george,” you stub out your cigarette, pausing dramatically. “it was mid.”

matty snorts, squinting at you - disbelieving, but to anyone else it would look like he's just affected by the sun - while george cackles. “was it anyone we know?”

“well, a lady never tells,” you smile, turning to your boyfriend. “matty, if i get in the pool, will you carry me? don't wanna get my hair wet.”

he rolls his eyes. “you're such a princess. get in here.”

giggling at the nickname, you down the rest of your drink. “bye, george. don't smoke all my fags!”

“i won't!”

“you better not! right,” you slide into the water, wrapping your limbs around matty and beaming when he grabs your arse and starts to walk towards the centre of the pool. “hiya.”

“afternoon. you comfy?”

“yeah… wait, just let me,” you wriggle around a little in his grasp, accidentally-on-purpose pushing your boobs into his face for a second before looking at him with a shit-eating grin. “oopsies.”

“you're lucky i can't spank you underwater, you know,” matty smirks, walking the two of you further from the rest of your friends. “for that, and for that fucking mid comment earlier. mid? me making you squirt on my dick was mid?”

you whimper at the memory, clit tingling as you recall the five consecutive orgasms you made it through, before it all got too much to bear and you soaked your boyfriend, much to his delight. “no, daddy, m'sorry,” you tuck your face into his neck, softly kissing it. “was a bad joke. loved it, really,” you move to whisper in his ear. “love you.”

matty's whole demeanour changes - he softens, attitude melting away to reveal the sweetheart you know and love so much. “s'alright, princess, i love you too,” he turns to kiss your head before pulling back to smile at you. “my beautiful girl, in my favourite colour. that was sweet of you to ask, baby.”

“just wanted to turn you on, really.”

he laughs. “well, you've done that, sweetheart,” he pulls your bottom half closer into his. “feel how fucking hard you've got me?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “shit, i wish you could fuck me right now.”

“same,” he rests his head on your shoulder. “d'you think we're being too obvious, by the way? like… you clinging to me?”

“every single person here saw you do a tequila shot from between my tits a month before we were even together, so…” you giggle, hugging him tighter when he laughs too. “i think we're good.”

“s'pose,” matty turns his head towards the rest of your friends, where ross is yelling something about ordering dinner. he sighs. “we'd better go and see them, yeah?”

“might as well,” you reply glumly, sighing dramatically as matty carries you through the water. “guess i'll just have to have sex with you in a pool some other time.”

“oh, believe me, darling, i'll do everything i can to make that happen,” he kisses your head, the final brush of his lips on your skin before you run the risk of being caught. “tonight, though, i do have that massive bath in my room, if you like…”

“absolutely. i'll be there at eight.”

“looking forward to it, princess.”

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 13

Hello! I've cut my backlog literally in half with this move and while I hate seeing it that low (seven chapters I have waiting to be published) that is it's point after all.

After the nice meeting with Nancy, Robin brings the news to the boys who have a much different perspective on the issue.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

Robin was the last to arrive at Steve’s swanky apartment. Spence was on the grill frying up her tofu burger first so the meat wouldn’t touch hers. Simon and Shane were in a heated discussion about Brandon Sanderson and his contribution to the fantasy genre. Her best friend was coming out of the kitchen with all sorts of vegan options for her to chose from.

She went over and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, taking a couple of the bowls from him so he could go back and get more.

Once everyone had gotten their food and settled in Robin told them about her meeting with Nancy and Chrissy.

“So she’s going to apologize to our Stevie?” Simon asked around a bite of his potato salad.

Robin nodded stabbing her salad with a fork. “That’s what she said. I’ll believe it when I see it, though.” She took a bite of her food.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Though ti doesn’t surprise me she’s not with Jonathan anymore.”

Robin tilted her head with a frown. “What do you mean?”

He sighed and pushed his food away not feeling very hungry at the moment. “Both of us had been pretty vocal about the white picket fence and the two point five kids. I’ve changed my mind on that obviously,” he waved at all of them. “But Jonathan was always his mom and Will first, especially after Will’s kidnapping. He was never going to be ambitious in the way she wanted.”

“His little brother got kidnapped?” Shane asked in wide-eyed shock. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, it was this whole thing,” Steve said, nodding and leaning back on his chair, propping his arm on the back. “But everyone knew that despite all his dreams of being a wild life photographer, he was always going to pick somewhere close to home.”

“So yeah,” Robin said rolling her eyes and cocking her head. “She said she as going to apologize, but I told her she had to that and a shit ton of grovelling before I would consider her to rep the band.”

Steve phone went off and he picked it up. He frowned at the number. He answered it with a confused, “Hello?”

“Steve? Steve Harrington?” the cool feminine voice asked.

“That’s me,” he replied sitting up in his seat. “How can I help you?”

“It’s Nancy Wheeler,” she said after a moment. “I got your number from the record label, I hope that’s okay.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said in surprise. “Yeah, that’s fine. Wow, the Nancy Wheeler. We were just talking about your meeting with Celeste earlier.”

“Oh,” Nancy said, “I was hoping to call after you had finished speaking with her about it. I can call later.”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. We were mostly done anyway. We were just having dinner.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “If you’re eating, I could call back later tonight or even at a convenient time tomorrow?”

Steve rolled his eyes and Shane covered his mouth to hide the bubble of laughter that sprang to his lips. “I said it was fine. How are you? I understand you’re a hot shot music agent now.”

He could almost feel her smile on the other end when she said, “Something like that.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m actually calling to see you wanted to meet me for lunch tomorrow, I wanted to catch up and well...really to apologize. We were both so young, but that was no reason to treat you the way I did.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and put his elbow on the table to prop up the hand that was holding the phone. “You’re right, it wasn’t. But sure, I have a few days off, I could meet you for lunch tomorrow. What time and where?”

Nancy gave him the information and then rang off. Steve threw his phone on the table next to his plate and threw himself against the back of the chair in frustration.

“Well color me shocked,” Robin said with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t think she would actually go for it. Chrissy and I were actually going to go through another list of agents to find one more suitable.”

Spence rubbed the bottom of his lip. “I’m not sure I like the idea of Steve going alone. Because she can say she apologized and that Steve was unreasonable and get us blacklisted for other agents.”

Steve felt an uneasy twist to his stomach at that. But not just that, he just didn’t trust her. He didn’t even know how he was talked into letting her into his life in the first place. She was all apologies now, but what about later? What about after she finds out Steve and Eddie are dating? Would that be a conflict of interest? What if she’s homophobic? What if she outs him before he has a chance to do it himself?

“Steve.”

He came to himself with a start. He looked around to see that everyone was looking at him in concern.

“Hey, hon,” Shane said, tilting his head down to look at Steve. “You doing alright? You don’t look so good.”

He didn’t see Robin but as he came further into himself he could feel the warmth of her hand as she rubbed circles around the pulse point on his wrist.

“There you are, dingus,” she said with a teasing lit to her tone. “You really had us worried for a minute. Where did you go?”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh and then another. “Sorry, I guess I just got caught in a spiral of bad thoughts.”

Robin’s other hand came up to squeeze his. “We don’t have to take her as our agent,” she murmured. “Hell don’t even have to go talk to her if you don’t want to. Or we can all go. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I don’t think she’s apologizing to Steve because she’s actually sorry,” Simon said with a sneer, “I think she’s doing it because she sees dollar signs. If she signs with us that is going to make her a shit ton of money and open her up to even bigger clients. Corroded Coffin was already established when they hired her but if we hit the stratosphere while she’s repping us she’ll be in a sweet spot to have the doors open for her.”

Robin stood up. “I guess what I’m hearing is that none of you trust her with Steve. She already knows who each of the band is, because she signed the NDA. But just say the word and I’ll walk away.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I want to hear her out. If she’s actually sincere. But you’re all right, I can’t go alone.”

“Take Robin,” Spence suggested. “She’ll expect you to bring your best friend.”

Shane shook his head. “I think he should take one of us. Maybe Simon, he’s the most ripped out of all of us. I want him protected.”

“I’m down,” Simon replied with a grin.

Robin shook her head, a sly grin on her face. “No, no. Take Eddie.”

“What the fuck?” Simon said rearing his head back, offended. “Why him and not me?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Because he encompasses everything we need. A good friend, who won’t let her walk all over him, like me. An imposing guy like Simon. He might not look like much out of the leathers, but in them and he looks like he could snap you in two. Also, he’s worked with her for a number of years and would be a better judge of if she’s being genuine.”

Spence and Shane shared a glance.

“Sorry, darling,” Shane said with a shrug, “I’m gonna have to go with Robbie on this one. Plus, she’s going to have to know about their relationship anyway.”

Spence chewed on his bottom lip fitfully.

“What’s on your mind, Spence?” Steve asked. “I smell your hair burning from here!”

Spence snorted, “Oh fuck off!” But a giggle escaped anyway.

“You got a problem with Eddie?” Robin asked tilting her head to the side as she regarded their drummer.

Spence waved his hands in front of him. “Oh hell no! It’s not about Eddie, it’s not really about Steve going to meet Nancy.”

Simon frowned and put an arm around him. “What’s going on then?”

“Steve is being too nice about this whole thing,” he murmured. “She didn’t just cheat. She didn’t just string him along. She knew going into the relationship what Steve wanted. Yeah, it’s bit unrealistic to imagine marrying your high school sweetheart. But there is a reason it’s so prevalent in all our media. Because it can happen, because it has happened before. And then her excuse was that Steve wasn’t ambitious enough? Why?”

Steve furrowed his brow as he thought about it. That was an unusual dig. He was a senior in high school, how much more ambitious did she want.

Robin shrugged and said to fill the silence, “I’m not sure because I didn’t become friends with Steve until after the whole mess, but my guess is that he wanted to take what the Europeans call a gap year. A year to just be a kid before jumping into college.”

“Something my parents weren’t fond of either, if I’m honest,” Steve scoffed.

Shane waved his hand toward Steve to indicate that was most likely the cause. “And there it is. It’s so insane everyone expecting to kids to go right into school without taking the time to figure out what you want to do with your life. Hell, you have to apply in January. That’s half way through your senior year. You’re supposed to know what you want in life before you even finish high school? That’s fucked up on all levels.” Through the whole rant, he gestured wildly with his hands.

“I didn’t get to into college my first try,” she said, “Because my parents made too much for me to get assistance but not enough for them to pay for it themselves. And then I met you guys and the rest is history.”

There were nods all around.

“It is up to Stevie to forgive her,” Simon said with a grimace. “But some part of me doesn’t want him to.”

Steve straightened up in his chair. “Why not?” He cocked his head to side, looking like a confused puppy dog.

Simon huffed out a sigh and squirmed in his chair, looking down at his food. He poked at the top of his hamburger bun, picking at the sesame seeds.

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your ego for us to get a good agent.”

The silence that followed filled the air with a thick sinking feeling.

Steve straightened his spine. “I’m not the weak-willed, touch-starved kid she remembers. I have three of the best mates a guy could ask for, a platonic soulmate, and a boyfriend that loves me for me. If she thinks she can swan into my life and walk all over me like she did before, she has another think coming. I’ll meet up with her and take Eddie. But make it absolutely clear, I have everyone’s backing on this. If I walk away, we all walk away.”

There was still some grumbling, but it was ultimately it was up to Steve. He made the necessary calls and then they settled down to finish their dinner.

Slowly the mood improved as the night went on, but it never did reach the heights of a laid back night with friends.

~

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

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8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @weirdandabsurd42 @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts

[topguncortez]

[ CLOSE ] with Jake and shy wifey ❤️ I can’t get enough of them!

Hold Me Close - Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of parental abuse, tooth rotting fluff.

based on this prompt: [close] sender reaches out and pulls receiver into their lap as they are walking by

opposites attract masterlist | G's slumber party

Growing up, Jake was never a fan of Sundays.

As a kid, Sundays meant going to church. Sitting in the hot chapel in long sleeve button up, a suit coat that never quite fit him right, and pressed khaki pants with dress shoes that squeezed his feet. It took every ounce of strength for him to not fall asleep when Paster James would go off on one of his weekly tangents about the youth in the town turning into "whores and sluts" whatever those were. After church, meant Sunday school were Jake had to sit and sing songs and eat lukewarm egg salad sandwiches and lemonade.

It got worse when he got older and his dad had become a city official. High school Jake would roll out of bed fighting off a hangover as he sat in that same hot and stuffy church. Though, he no longer had to attend Sunday school, he did have to plaster a smile on his face for Sunday dinners, where his mother would spend most of the morning cooking some grand meal for some new guest each week. Jake had to sit there and listen as men praised his father for the work he was doing and how he would be a shoo-in for mayor. If only they knew that before they had arrived, his father and shoved him hard against a bookshelf.

Then, Sundays became the day of recovery as he entered the academy. Long were the days of going to church, but now he was the thing that Paster James had warned about, a whore. There was a new woman in his bed almost every Sunday morning. Jake was never the cuddling type, and he always did feel slightly bad kicking them out. But he wasn't totally heartless, he would order them a cab. Once he got rid of the women, it was time for studying and pounding out whatever last minute project he had to do, and ignoring his father's calls.

Once Jake got his wings and got to his first duty station, he despised Sundays once again. There was no flying on Sundays. Most of his wingmen spent Sundays with their families or recovering from a hangover. Jake had outgrew the hangover, banging a new girl every Saturday night thing, but he hadn't grown into the whole Sunday family man thing either. Instead, he sat in his small dorm room, folding laundry and watching the NFL, bored out of his mind waiting for Monday to roll around again.

Jake never truly learned to like Sundays, until he met Y/N.

Y/N, who grew up sleeping in late and having pancakes for lunch in her pajamas with her family. Y/N, who wasn't forced to go to church with her mother, unless she wanted to. Y/N, who spent Sunday afternoons lazying around outside, watching the clouds roll by in the backyard. Y/N, who truly felt like Sundays were a day to just relax, and rest.

The first Sunday Jake had ever spent with Y/N, he was completely out of his element. He woke up a whole three hours before she did, and just laid there in bed, with her head on his chest. He watched as her eyes slowly fluttered open, her eyes a little bleary in a cute, confused way.

"Morning," She whispered, her voice thick with sleep and it sent a jolt straight to Jake's cock.

"Good morning," Jake smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, "What's the plan for today?"

Y/N yawned, turning on her back and stretching her limbs, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Jake asked, his eyebrows furrowed, "It's Sunday. You have no plans?"

"Yeah, it's Sunday," Y/N shrugged, "I have some things I'd like to do today, like wash the vases I got back, set up a potential menu for the farmer's market this week, deadhead some of the morning glories. . . but I have all day to do that."

Jake nodded his head, still slightly confused as Y/N rolled out of bed and checked her phone, "If we hurry, we can probably go get breakfast at Great Harvest, they close at 12:00."

"And what time is it?" Jake was almost too scared to ask.

"11:30."

"11:30!" Jake felt like the day was already over. Like he should be preparing for dinner or hell, the next day.

"Okay, take a breather," Y/N said softly, "We don't have to go to Great Harvest. Actually, I have a better idea."

Jake still looked bewildered as he watched his girlfriend, in nothing but a baby pink floral nightgown waltz out of the room. A few moments later, he heard the familiar sound of pots and pans clashing together. For someone who was so quiet and shy, she certainly knows how to make a ruckus.

Slowly, Jake rose from the bed, pulling up the blankets and fixing the pillows just the way she liked them. By the time Jake had made it downstairs to the small kitchen of Y/N's bungalow, the scent of blueberries and lemon filtered through his nose. The familiar sound of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the air as Jake leaned against the doorway, watching his girl work.

Y/N moved effortlessly like she had done this a dozen times before, which should've made a pang of jealousy flutter through Jake's chest, but he knew that he was the first man to sleep beside her in bed. The first man who had ever seen her in her most vulnerable form.

"What are you doing?" Jake asked, causing her to jump.

Y/N looked over her shoulder, a shy smile on her face as he pushed off the doorjamb, "I had this dough in the fridge and decided," She shrugged, "Today's the day I'll bake it. Had some fresh blueberries and lemon to use. And I know as a growing boy, you need your protein," Y/N gestured to the eggs and bacon, two things Jake knew she didn't eat.

Jake couldn't help the smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her close against his chest, nuzzling his face into her neck, "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Y/N said, sincerely, looking up at him. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips, "Go sit. I'll bring this over when it's done."

Jake obliged, going to sit at the small wrought iron table in the corner of her pink kitchen. He chuckled to himself seeing the morning paper, a cup of coffee and a pencil sitting in front of him. Jake looked up at her, seeing her focused attention on some other baked good she was working on.

About twenty minutes later, Y/N had pulled the fresh blueberry bread out of the oven, and covered it with the homemade lemon frosting. She served up two plates, one for Jake that had eggs, bacon, and three slices of blueberry bread, and one for her which consisted of oatmeal and one slice of blueberry bread.

"Plate for me," She smiled setting her plate down, "And a plate for you," She set the other down in front of Jake, "Anything else?"

Jake looked at her, a smirk on his face, "Yeah. . . you," He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her down into his lap, making her laugh, "This is what you do every Sunday?"

"Well, not to this extent," She gestured to the full plates of food, "But yeah. I wake up late, usually make a cup of tea and some oatmeal, maybe some bread if I feel like it. . . and just let the day take me where it wants."

Jake smiled at her, "I could get use to this."

"Good. . . cause you're stuck with me."

[icarusredwings]

What's going on at the X Men Annual Cook out as non black native american. Anyone is allowed to join in with their two cents. Adorablness at the end. <3

SCOTTY MY BROTHA IN CHRIST CHILL

Firstly, Domino wasn't even invited. She was just lucky enough to show up because the universe told her too and just so happened to be delighted to see the nonsense unfolding.

Secondly, let's get one thing straight. Wade is over here, busting it down to Mary Jane Girls and The Emotions, singing word for word.

You really are going to look at this man and tell me he ISN'T folding the second a black mama tells him to settle his ass down? He's sat and silent, ma'am. He's probably gonna say something so stupid and get slapped with a slipper, but you know what? Maybe he'd behave.

Perhaps that's why Ororo can sit him so quickly with a simple word and eyebrow raise. Speaking of which, she's watching Logan very closely on that grill. Them burgers be lookin a little dry Lo... He wouldn't stop complaining until she let him help. And even so, this help is very much supervised. If anything he's bickering that theyre fine and she's very tempted to switch him out with Remy.

Who was, of course, trying to show off to Rouge with his dancing but rouge is too busy comforting Kurt whos currently sat next to the picnic table on the ground crying and lowkey getting possesive over his plate.

"No little german boy! Don't eat those Louisiana baby back ribs, REAL tater salad and collard greens!"

"Oh mein gott.. dis is so gud!" *cries*

Hank is playing corn hole with Morph, who lowkey is about to get slapped because he keeps doing Micheal Jackson impressions. He also keeps cheating at the game 🤨

Just as Rouges turning her freak on. Logan's kicked off the grill and told to go handle the weird dance battle that Wade has started.

"D'Awww but!- but!? Ugh!!" So now here he is, poutily standing at the grill, watching how gently Piotr is holding Kittys hand and is twirling her with a big smile on his face.

Somehow, Out of no where, A cirlce has formed and now all Yukio, Wade, and Rouge is chanting "Go white boy, go white boy, go!"

As Scott is proving just how loose he can get, testing just how streachy these slacks are.

Jeans giggling up a storm, a hand over her mouth as she pushes him away and tells him theres kids near by. Logan is deadpanned, a little disgusted but also impressed. Like who is this man?? Where was the principal?

And there was Jubilee, filming the whole thing for their socials, captioning it "Professor cool" and "We like to have fun here at XUniversity 🕺!"

Nathan has his face in his hands, Bright red, so embarrassed that he's thinking about leaving early.

"DAAAYYMM Your dad is TURNT!"

Both Nathan and Logan blink, staring at him as he runs off.

"...Do you.."

"Nope.."

Neither of them have any clue what's going on, but god Wade is so cute when well socialized and properly exercised.

Somewhere over in a tree, There's two boys sitting on a branch eating various kinds of food, both their hands sticky sith sauce.

"Do they always do this?"

"Nope. Pietro." He puts his hand out.

Putting a napkin around his hand, He takes it with a smirk. "Miles."

"....Wait a second. Do you even go here?"

"Nope. Gonna snitch?"

"...Gimme your sweet potatoes and we'll call it even."

"That's a hard bargain. I like that. Deal."

The boys sit in silence as they exchange food, Watching a scrawny cancer patient trying to force a two left footed lumberjack to dance with him but he's so embaressed that his ears are red and tripping over his own feet.

"W-wade I'm not-"

Soon enough it turns into more of a Waltz. The same Waltz they did at their reception in this very yard.