#what this says to me is that they have good teachers. that they take their lessons to heart. that this is working.

[philosophicalparadox]

Similarly, literary analysis is a skill. It takes practice. And some of that practice inherently involves you being wrong or skewed. Bias is everywhere, but sometimes your bias informs your interpretation/perception in a way that’s just too far away from the reality — and with analysis, there is a kind of reality.

Which is precisely why literary analysis requires you to read a lot. It’s about pattern recognition, not opinion; literary analysis is more science than art, as the name implies, and while its rules aren’t fully understood, they nonetheless exist.

I see posts quite often in my neck of the woods (anime/manga) that neglects these rules while trying to understand the material through a heavily biased lens. This is usually because people neglect the most important rule: Culture Comes First. You can’t analyze the “data” in a piece of literature if you don’t understand what the “study” is — you have to weigh, by necessity, the cultural context of the work you’re looking at, because the patterns and themes that you are analyzing are not necessarily universal, and can vary from culture to culture. No surprise then that way too often I see people analyzing Japanese media through an American, usually, lens. Which has its merits, especially when you’re discussing popular media that reaches many people, or things that are shared, but nonetheless is a skewed perception that misses a lot of context giving patterns.

I also too often see analysis done as if it’s a journalist opinion piece, which to be fair, there is language in common between them, because again, biases must be recognized in any sort of qualitative study, but it fundamentally is not.

That isn’t to say that analysis that missed the mark doesn’t have merit; there’s a reason my literature classes always had us exchange and share our papers after grading. Different people have different strengths in pattern recognition, and what is noticed by one can be missed by another. It’s like peer review. In fact it IS peer review.

But gods does it IRK me when I see people who do the whole “my interpretation is the only right one” with analysis specifically, because, no, honey. That’s not how that works. Literary analysis isn’t just a fancy term your English teacher threw at you for fun. It has actual metrics. There are meanings behind the words Trope, Motif and Theme. I mean, there’s something to be said about an analysis that has good metrics and is widely agreed upon, because typically (though not always, courtesy cultural bias above) that means it’s “passed review” so to speak, but if you’re standing in a crowd shouting that you’re right and everyone else is wrong, odds are pretty good that you’re the wrong one. Or at least that you’re missing something on purpose.

Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”

[littlelamy]

thinking about rafe being more involved with sarahs life after the baby and spending time with them and taking the kid to school or maybe picking the kid up and seeing reader who is a teacher and they flirt or maybe it’s parent teacher conference and rafe tags along with john b bc Sarah can’t make it and him and reader are cute and flirting

the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, painting golden streaks across the desks and scattering soft shadows on the floor. it was quiet now, the hum of kids long gone except for a few stray drawings left forgotten on tables and the faint creak of your chair as you leaned back, scanning through a pile of spelling tests.

the knock on your classroom door startled you, pulling you out of the mundane rhythm of grading. when you looked up, you expected john b, who had mentioned he’d be dropping by for the parent-teacher conference. instead, you saw him. rafe cameron.

rafe leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, the other gripping the strap of a sleek leather backpack. his usual cocky smirk softened into something more polite, almost uncertain, as his eyes swept the room before landing on you.

“hey,” he said, his voice low and warm, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged here but was trying anyway.

“hi,” you managed, your surprise fading into curiosity. “can i help you?”

“i… uh, i’m here for the conference,” he explained, stepping further into the room. “sarah couldn’t make it, and john b roped me into tagging along.”

you blinked, trying to reconcile the guy who had a reputation for being a little too reckless, a little too intense, with the man standing in front of you. “oh. yeah, of course. take a seat. john b should be here any minute.”

rafe nodded, sliding into one of the kid-sized chairs with an amused grin. “man, these chairs are tiny. no wonder kids are always squirming.”

you laughed, the sound light and unexpected. “yeah, they’re not exactly built for comfort. you’ll survive, though.”

he raised an eyebrow, leaning his elbows on the desk as he looked at you. “is that a challenge?”

before you could respond, the door swung open, and john b burst in, his usual whirlwind energy filling the room. “hey, sorry i’m late,” he said, dropping into a chair beside rafe without missing a beat. “traffic was insane.”

“it’s fine,” you assured him, pulling out the folder with their child’s name neatly printed across the front. “shall we get started?”

the conference itself was straightforward, mostly you going over their daughter’s progress, showing off some of her artwork, and sharing notes about her strengths and areas for growth. but every now and then, you felt rafe’s gaze on you, steady and curious, like he was trying to figure you out.

when the meeting wrapped up, john b stood, stretching. “thanks for taking the time. sarah’ll be thrilled to hear everything’s going so well.”

“of course,” you said, offering him a warm smile. “she’s a great kid. makes my job easy.”

john b nodded, then glanced at rafe. “you coming?”

rafe hesitated, his eyes flicking to you. “uh, i’ll catch up. i just have a quick question.”

john b smirked, like he knew exactly what was going on, but didn’t say anything as he left, leaving you and rafe alone.

“so, a quick question?” you prompted, arching an eyebrow.

he grinned, leaning back in his tiny chair. “yeah, just wanted to ask if you’ve always been this good with kids, or if it’s something you picked up over time.”

you tilted your head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “a little of both, i guess. i’ve always liked working with them. they’re honest, you know? no filter. keeps things interesting.”

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “yeah, i can see that. you’re… you’re really good at it. i mean, i could barely survive babysitting her for an afternoon, and you do this every day.”

you laughed, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. “it’s definitely not easy, but it’s worth it.”

there was a pause, the kind that felt like it held something unsaid, and then rafe stood, towering over the kid-sized desk. “anyway, i should let you go. but… maybe i’ll see you around?”

“maybe,” you said, your smile lingering as he made his way to the door.

but before he left, he glanced back, his smirk returning. “or, you know, if you ever need a break from grading papers, i’d be happy to grab a coffee or something. on me.”

you raised an eyebrow, fighting the grin tugging at your lips. “i’ll think about it, cameron.”

he chuckled, giving you a small salute before disappearing into the hallway, leaving you alone in the golden light of the classroom, your heart fluttering in a way you hadn’t expected.

lamy's notes: i wouldn't mind doing more fics about rafe x teacher!reader! i hope you liked it!!

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesbabygirlx

[loveerran]

In 2011, Brad Wilcox gave a devotional at BYU titled “His Grace is Sufficient”. It has since garnered over 1.4M views on YouTube. This devotional served as the text in a sacrament meeting I recently attended. A central metaphor of the lesson compared the Atonement to a mother (Jesus) paying the price charged by a piano teacher (Justice) for piano lessons for a child (us). After the piano lessons are paid for, the mother asks the child to practice. The following questions are then asked and answered:

Does the practice pay the cost of the piano lessons? No.

Does the practice repay the mother for the lessons? No.

What, then, does the practice do? It transforms the child. This is why Jesus asks us to practice in higher and holier ways, so that we may be transformed

During this sacrament meeting, I asked myself “What does the Lord want of me? How am I being invited to become better and live (or practice) in a higher and holier way?”

Ultimately, I think that is a good question for any of us. And to be clear, I am interested in the Lord’s list for me and not just a set of recycled answers from a typical Sunday School class. I desire personal revelation, the Mind and Will of God for my individual needs and path.

A quote from the same talk went as follows “When a young pianist hits a wrong note, we don’t say they are not worthy to keep practicing. We don’t expect them to be flawless. We just expect them to keep trying. Perfection may be their ultimate goal, but for now we can be content with progress in the right direction… When learning the piano, are the only options performing at Carnegie Hall or quitting? No. Growth and development take time. Learning takes time. When we understand grace, we understand that God is long-suffering, that change is a process”

I have relied on, and continue to rely on, the Grace of God, something I was reminded of when we sang this verse from Amazing Grace:

Through many dangers, toils, and snares,

I have already come;

’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,

And grace will lead me home

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Maestro’s is a nice place. Your dress feels even louder in the high-end restaurant. And you feel even more tired as the dim lighting softens the edges of your vision. Mr. Hansen looms there too, ushering you after the hostess as she leads you to your reserved booth. 

A man awaits you. He doesn’t stand or offer Lloyd a handshake. He simply finishes his martini and shoves the empty glass at the hostess, keeping the olive to chew on. 

“’Bout time,” he mutters at Hansen around the garnish. 

“Nice to see you too, Hugh,” Hansen nudges you ahead of him. You slide onto the curved bench silently. The man finally looks up from his glowing phone. He scoffs in your direction. “Who’s the grade school teacher?” 

“Assistant,” Hansen drops down and glides in close to you. “She’ll keep minutes.” 

“Really? Alright,” he snorts. 

“Well, you want an investment so... it’s business, isn’t it?” 

“Thought we were getting drinks and steak,” the other man he called Hugh sits back casually. 

“Missie, Ransom, Ransom, Missie. There, all introduced,” Hansen picks up the liquor menu and pets his mustache. You notice how he toys particular with the shining silver strand. 

“Nice to meet you, uh, Ransom,” you intone. 

“Yeah, sure,” he sniffs and rolls his eyes. You’re an intruder, if not an imposter. Not just at this table but in this restaurant. You should be with Peter getting your sandwich with extra pickles. 

The men are silent. You look between them as the tension rise. A waitress reappears with a fresh martini and puts it before Ransom. Hansen sits up and puts down the small menu.  

“Scotch, top shelf for me, and a vodka tonic for the lady. She’s watching those hips,” he orders. You don’t put in that you’d rather not drink. You doubt he’ll notice if you touch it or not. Besides, it’s a courtesy you don’t expect of him. 

“You going to the reunion?” Ransom asks over his martini. 

“Nah, stuff’s sad. Bunch of washed out legacies and stringy armed pledges.” Hansen retorts. 

“Mr. Big Stuff’s too cool for school,” Ransom chortles. “Imagine this, honey,” he gestures to you with his stemmed glass. “Big boss man used to be the frat’s treasurer. Penny pincher. Kept a fucking stranglehold over every penny. Wouldn’t even put out for cups for beer pong--” 

“Not all of have grandaddy’s trust fund to fall back on--” 

“Bro, don’t even. Your mom is loaded.” 

“Where do you think I got my good sense from?” Hansen counters. The server returns with your drinks and sets them down, offering a food menu. The men wave those away. Your stomach growls. 

Hansen slides the sparkling vodka in front of you. He sips his own dark liquor and you let yours sit on ice. He huffs and flicks the brim of your glass, “drink.” 

“Sir,” you lift the glass and take a tiny sip. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” he pushes on the bottom until you gulp. You nearly gag on the bitterness of the tonic and alcohol. 

“So what’s going on here?” Ransom leans his elbows on the table. 

“Business, talk about your damn books,” Hansen demands with the snap of his fingers. 

“New imprint. So long as I can get the backers,” Ransom shrugs. “Grandfather says I have to put work in. Mom says the same.” 

“Oh, and how is the insatiable Mrs. Thrombey?” 

“Hey,” Ransom warns. 

Hansen cackles, “now that’s a woman. Tall, domineering—you know, she still got it--” 

“Would you quit?” 

“I’m having fun,” Hansen chuckles and drains his glass. He takes out his phone and Ransom sighs, nursing his own drink in agitation. 

You squirm in the roiling air. You wet your lips as you wait for them to continue. Neither of them do. 

“That’s a nice ring...” you comment, just to ease the silence. 

Ransom twists the mother of pearl band then fidgets with his hands, “thank, er...” 

“So you went to school together?” You prompt, afraid of another simmering tension. 

“Pfft, no. Do I look old?” Ransom sneers. “I only heard the stories. After. L-Dog made quite the name for himself.” 

“Hugh,” Hansen puts his phone screen down. 

“What? I’m making conversation since you can’t be bothered,” he shrugs and leans forward, focusing on you. “What’s it like working for him? He a tight ass? I mean, he’s got you here past six. I’m thinking so.” 

“She’s here to take notes,” Hansen insists. “It’s her job.” 

“Suuuuure,” Ransom drags out the word. “Still the same as you ever were, huh.” 

“Shut up.” 

“This guy, oh, everyone knew what he liked. Really chubby ch--” 

Hansen slaps the table and it jolts as he kicks Ransom underneath, “you want me to back your nepotistic venture or what?” 

Ransom laughs and reaches to rubs his shin, “you know, this could’ve been an email.” 

“Could’ve,” Hansen signals for the server. “But I prefer to deal with you with a dash of good scotch.” He taps your glass again, “finish that.” 

The waitress reappears and Hansen orders another round for the table. You deflate just a little. You hoped you might get out early enough to meet Peter, or at least call him and explain. You’re not sure your frantic apology via text made sense. 

“You’re too nice for him,” Ransom says. “And it’s me saying so.” 

“Get on with it,” Hansen sneers. 

“Fine. Erotic thrillers. Granddad’s scandalised but I told him, times are changing. People like horny with their fear.” 

You stay quiet. You’re rather content to do so. Let them chatter. You take out your phone and take notes; trying to translate his crass explanation into business speak. Hansen gets his second drink and yawns. 

The more you transcribe there blustering chirping, the more you feel that needling in your head. You shouldn’t be here. Neither of them need you here. You know it’s punishment; because you saw your boss at his weakest, but when did you ever step a toe out of line with Hansen. You’ve ever been loyal. You are sitting at that table after all. 

“Hips, if you’re not gonna drink, don’t let it go to waste,” Hansen snatches your untouched refill and slurps it down. 

Concern tickles behind your ears. He’s drinking a lot and fast. The longer you’re here, the more he knocks back, you’re assured that you won’t be catching up with Peter tonight.  

You quickly flip out of your notes app and check your conversation. You deleted Hansen’s message but not before it was read. Even so, Peter’s response is ‘understood, we’ll do another night’. You reply to him quickly 

‘Sorry again. Boss has important stuff. Maybe this weekend?’ 

You switch back to your notes as Hansen slaps his chest and stifle a belch. Ransom sucks on the gin soaked olive and shakes his head again. Looks like you’re going to be the adult at the table. 

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part thirteen: symbiosis || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

02: PAST, YESTERDAY

characters presentation || last part || next part ; words: 1k

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

The lesson had just ended, Sae had already finished hers a few minutes ago, but by now it had become a habit for her to wait for you: weeks had passed since you went to her house for the first time, and from that moment on every afternoon you spent the your time playing in his garage. But there was one peculiarity, one that made you a little uneasy

Across the room, putting his bass back, was Rin Itoshi. At the end, he had seriously started taking classes, and so you had found your friend's younger brother in the same class as you; you hated to admit it, but he was good for starting so recently. Maybe it was an Itoshi family trait knowing how to play instruments without too much effort, another beyond the eyelashes

You never spoke during lessons, but you observed each other a lot: every time you looked up you found his big teal eyes staring at you, and every now and then you stared at him without realizing it. Every time one pecked the other, he would look away, only to look back again a few seconds later. You didn't know why you did it, but it had become practically normal by now. You found him interesting, and maybe he found you interesting

You pick up your bass, walking out of the room, Rin a few steps away from you; When you reach the hallway, you notice Sae. He's usually always in great shape, but today he seems a little tired

"Are you okay?" you ask approaching him, and Rin joins your duo "Nii Chan was sick before he even came to his class" he says, and Sae glares at his brother "It's not true, I just have a bit of a headache. Let's go" he says as he heads towards the exit of the music school. You look at him a little perplexed, and you notice how Rin is too; you look at each other for a few seconds, then you both shrug and follow Sae. Surely Rin knows more, but you think his brother has a fever

On the way to the Itoshi house, no one dares to speak: from time to time Sae sneezes, and you and Rin look at each other more and more perplexed by the reddish's pedantic behavior. Usually you and Sae always chat on the commute, but since Rin joined your duo the conversations have become rarer and rarer. Maybe Sae is ashamed to show his brother that he talks to a girl, you don't know this, but by now it has become almost normal to remain silent

Once you get to the garage you place your bass in the usual place, but you notice Sae climbing the steps that lead to the first floor "Wait for me here, Y/n. I'll take some medicine and we can start... in the meantime you try something with Rin, he hasn't yet never tried with anyone" Sae says, but before you can reply he has already closed the door. A strange silence envelops the garage, while you turn towards Rin embarrassed: again, you find him already looking at you, but this time he didn't hide it. You don't know why he does it, but you can't help but be a little embarrassed by his behavior. Plus, he's not one to talk much, so that makes the situation even weirder

"Um... can we try what we did with our teacher today? That song with the low notes" you say, picking up your bass, trying to limit eye contact. You plug your bass into the speaker, and only then do you hear Rin nod as he settles down too. Timidly, you start by giving the first notes of the song, tapping your foot to give yourself the time, but unexpectedly Rin starts playing, significantly anticipating the notes with which he technically should have started. You look up in surprise, continuing to play as you observe how focused he is, completely engrossed in the song. You smile almost spontaneously, and you don't even know how to explain the reason for your sudden joy

Perhaps, you have found the second person with whom you get excited when you play. Rin's concentration, his precision, his perfect timing... they are like gold to you, rare gold that you want to protect and possess. You increase your concentration, spinning around as you play, and Rin seems to start moving too, while a genuine smile breaks out on his face. It's all so unexpected but perfect that the song almost fades into the background, while this time it's you staring at him without shame, waiting for him to notice you

And when he looks up, the bass still clutched in his hands, you feel as if the notes he plays hit your heart in a lethal way, but this too is the effect of the music. Your gaze intertwines with his, and you almost don't notice how the song ended, as if your hands had played it automatically while you were concentrated on something else

"You're really great, Rin!" you say, approaching him almost without noticing, your hands unexpectedly grabbing his "Play with me!"

“Rin, Y/n, Sae can’t… oh” says a female voice from the door, Mrs. Itoshi’s. Both you and Rin turn around awkwardly with your hands still intertwined, but quickly break away when you hear the lady, who however smiles at you tenderly "Were you two playing? You're good" she asks giggling, and you look down in embarrassment “It was us, mom. How's Nii Chan?” Rin asks, but you notice a bit of embarrassment in his tone of voice "I came to tell you... he has a fever. He can't play this afternoon, I'm sorry Y/n" the lady says, but you look up shaking your hands "It's not a problem, Mrs. Itoshi! I can go home, I'm sorry Sae has a fever" you say already putting your bass back in the case, but a hand grabs your wrist, stopping you. You look up, Rin's slightly unsure teal eyes looking at you "Stay. We can... we can try another song" he says awkwardly

You swallow a lump of saliva, more awkward than him "Oh, okay" you say, your voice shaking, but his hand still hasn't left his wrist. It's as if, for him, interrupting contact wasn't possible... actually, it's the first time your skin has touched. And you can't ignore the little shivers down your spine, the same ones you felt while playing with him in a completely symbiotic way. You want to stay here with him, for him, to also feel the thrills of emotion and once again the excitement

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover ; @poemzcheng ; @poisonedst4r

[sandwitchstories]

Gratitude and Gratfication

Alexa: play some Marvin Gaye 'Sexual Healing'

I am back on my back for Kyojuro Rengoku! (and my knees, and my fours...) Oops! I mean, I am back to writing my filthy smut about my dearly beloved Kyojuro Rengoku! This one definitely got away from me and became my single longest (word count) smutty one shot to date. It's a long one, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you prefer to read on AO3 please click here! Summary: Kyojuro has been working extra hard lately. Working late, doing extra help sessions with students, rewriting his test umpteen times... You decide your hard working husband deserves a reward, and you know the perfect way to show your appreciation.

WC: 6300+

CW: MDNI, Fem reader, established relationship, PURE SMUT, rough sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, some dom/sub, couple of ass smacks, light choking, creampie - for the full list of CW please check the AO3 link.

Divider by: @strangergraphics

People think of Kyojuro Rengoku as being almost innocent. Your husband is a gentleman through and through. He is gorgeous, gentle, strong, loving, funny, smart, positive, protective, passionate, selfless and he is just… everything to you. You love all of him and everything about him, even the clothes that never make it all the way into the laundry basket. Even the long hours he puts in at work, determined to be the best teacher he can be.

But nothing compares to who and how he is in your moments alone. The second you initiate or respond to his advances, it is game over. Hell, if you make it to the bedroom (if you are not already there) it is a miracle. 

Take right now for example.

You knew what you were getting into but you just couldn't help yourself. He has been wound up so tight as finals draw near. He has put in so many hours doing extra study hours for struggling students and he has rewritten that damn history test at least 8,942 times, determined every question will make sense to every student no matter how their thought process works. He deserves a reward and you are happy to give it to him.

Kyojuro looks so fucking good as he stands there taking off his watch. His tie is undone and hanging around his neck, still tucked under his collar. Sleeves are still rolled back showing his strong forearms. That white shirt, even with the top two buttons undone, sure is putting in overtime to keep buttoned over those pecs of his. He's got his belt undone but pants still clasped. 

He turns away still talking to you but all you can focus on is the way his pants hug his ass. You never knew men could have asses like that before him, just perfect peaches you want to sink your teeth into. You smiled as a thought crossed your mind– if your history teacher had looked this good you probably would have had a better grade in that class. Then again his ass was awfully distracting so maybe not so much… 

“My love, did you hear me?” He asks, setting his watch down on the armoire. 

“I sure did not!” You give him a cheesy grin as he startles you from your thoughts.

He turns and arches his eyebrow at you, “I asked if you were hungry. Since it is Friday I was suggesting let's be lazy and order take away.”

“That works! I am a little hungry but not, like, starving.” 

“Same. Another long day but we do need sustenance. I'll put in an order in a little while,” he says, turning back to getting undressed.

You changed your mind. You are hungry. Starving in fact but it's not for tempura or yakitori. Time to feast.

You crawl across the bed, in your tank top and panties, glad you had removed your bra and pants long ago. They were laying somewhere in the living room, removed and tossed aside the minute you were through the door, abandoned in celebration of the weekend finally arriving. 

You climb off the bed and saddle up behind him, molding your body to his and sliding your hands over his hips to rest on his chest and stomach, laying a kiss on his still clothed back. 

“Hmm?” He asks looking over his shoulder and down into your upturned face.

“Hi,” you grin up at him.

“Well hello there,” He greets back with a chuckle at your silliness.

“I decided I am starving, baby.”

“Is that so?” He asks, still holding your gaze. Your husband is no fool. You see the fire starting to kindle in his eyes already.

“Very much so.” Your fingers start working the buttons on his shirt, opening it and sliding your hands over his toned, tan muscles. Your hands trail lower, fingertips tracing down his happy trail to the top of his pants, pausing.

“Keep going. I didn't say to stop,” he says, his voice already taking on the tone it does when he is turned on.

Your hands undo his pants, sliding down the zipper. Fingers trail teasingly over the light v cut in his hips before sliding a finger under the waistband of his boxer further towards your goal. Fingertips raking through his neatly trimmed hair as your hand dips fully into his briefs. One hand moves to rest in the middle of his chest as your other hand cups his hardening cock, giving it a light squeeze with your palm, groaning and pressing your lips to his back through his shirt.

“Getting so hard already, baby. All for me?” You tease as his hands brace on the chest of drawers in front of him as you continue stroking his cock. 

“Of Course it is all for you, my love,” he says as his hips rock forward slowly into your hand.

Your thumb swipes across the tip of his cock, gathering the pearls forming. Kyojuro groans and bites his lip. The hand you have splayed on his chest digs your nails in slightly as you let out a small moan against his back. 

By this point you are so turned on you are tempted to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. But this isn't about you. This is about giving something back to the man who gives constantly to everyone. 

“Turn around, baby,” you say, removing your hands slowly so he can do as you ask. 

You cup his face, leaning against him, trapping his hard cock between you. He kisses you without hesitation, his hands immediately on your hips, pulling you closer and grinding against you. You help him shed his shirt the rest of the way, and let him pull your tank top off, freeing your breasts to his hungry touch. His hands are immediately cupping them and running his thumbs back and forth over your nipples. You kiss him again before you pull back and kiss an open mouth trail down his body as you lower to your knees. 

You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his hard on. It takes every bit of restraint you currently possess to finish ridding him of his pants and boxers. You scrape your nails down his delicious thick thighs before you look up at him and run the flat of your tongue up and down the underside of his cock, enjoying the grunt he lets out.

You cup his cock and give it several strokes before you lick across the head, tonguing the very tip. You wrap your lips around his cock and start slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth and then throat, working up to being able to nuzzle your nose against the dark hair at the base of his cock, eyes flicking up to lock gazes with him. 

His pupils are blown wide. His eyes are firmly focused on your face, on your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock so perfectly. His mouth is slightly ajar, and his cheeks are tinted just the slightest bit pink. 

One large hand moves forward from where it rested on the armoire he is now leaning against to bury in your hair, grip tight and nudging forward with his hips, encouraging you to keep going. You flex your throat around his cock, a moan slips out as his hips jerk forward.

“Is this what you want, my love?” Kyojuro asks, his fingers now fisted in your hair and guiding your head back, fully off his cock so you can answer.

“Mmmhmmm,” you say enthusiastically, smiling up at him, eyes glazed with desire. “But this isn’t about me, my love. Is this what you want?”

He answers by guiding your mouth back onto him and slowly pushing you down all the way. You try to smile up at him around his cock. You are sure it must look silly but the only thing you see in his eyes is desire. His free hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your cheek, he gives you a fond smile. 

And then the gentleman is gone. All bets are off. After all this time, Kyojuro knows your turn ons and your limits even better than you know them yourself. He knows what he has your permission for and where your hard lines are drawn. He will always respect those boundaries and that is a huge part of why it is so easy to give him complete control. 

Both of his sexy hands are now fisted in your hair, pulling you almost all the way off his cock, and then shoving you all the way back down his thick length. You slack your jaw and close your eyes, moaning in pleasure at the feel of him fucking your face. You feel the drool starting to form around your lips, but make no attempts to stop him or slow him so you can wipe it off. Afterall, Kyojuro loves a messy blow job.

“You are doing so well. Taking my cock so well for me, my love,” he says as he watches you. He notices your eyes are closed and that simply won’t do. He wants to see the look in your eyes as he uses your mouth and throat. “Eyes on me, you know the rules.”

Your eyes snap open, gazing up at him unfocused. Your hands slide back to grip his ass, pushing him even deeper into your throat, almost gagging yourself for the first time in a long time. You roll your tongue where it rests on the underside of his shaft. The surprised grunt he makes goes straight to your core. 

“You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth,” he says just before he starts using the hands fisted in your hair to move your mouth up and down his cock at a faster speed so he can fuck your face just the way he knows you like. The way that gets you damn near drunk on his cock and gods does he love seeing that look in your eyes. “My love, you are so good with that pretty, filthy, little mouth of yours. So good, sweet thing, your mouth feels so good.”

You hum happily at his praise and start sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks more. You want more of his praise. You want more of his cock. You want his cum. One of your hands moves from his thick thighs to his balls, cupping and squeezing them while you work his cock. 

“That’s it, gorgeous! That’s it! I’m going to cum,” he warns you before he fucks into your mouth until his orgasm slams into him, one of his large hands now cupping the back of your head, pressing you down as far down as you can go. 

He is moaning and his cock is twitching in your mouth as you swallow his load. His breathing is heavy when he pulls you off his cock and releases his grip on your hair. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, showing that not a single drop went to waste. He groans, running a thumb across your swollen, spit covered lips. “You did so well.”

“That’s just the start,” you say with a grin, voice a little hoarse from the pounding your throat just took.

“Is that so?” he asks, intrigued as he helps you off the floor. 

“Mmmhmm,” you smirk, leaning into him, pressing your breasts against his hard hot flesh. His arms instantly wrap around your waist. “You’ve been working so hard lately, baby. You deserve a reward.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” he asks, hands slide down to cup your ass and pull you closer. You can feel his cock already starting to stir again as it twitches against you. The stamina of this man was the thing of legends.

“It most certainly is,” you say with a grin.

“And just what is my reward?” he asks, kissing you gently several times, nipping at your bottom lip playfully. 

“Anything you want, Kyojuro,” you lean into him, wanting more kisses. 

Kyojuro may have had a long and excruciating day at work, but he can no longer find a single complaint in his mind. How could he when he has you, in just that tiny little scrap of fabric you call panties, in his arms, pressed against him and nipping at his lips? Finals, difficult coworkers, the speeding ticket he got on the way home that he was not looking forward to telling you about - none of it matters right now. The only thing he gives a damn about right now is you, and the dirty, dirty things he spends his free time thinking about doing to you. 

“Well, sweet thing you are quite the reward,” he grins, fingers hooking on the straps of your panties arching over your hips. He snaps them playfully, a devious little smirk on his face. “These. Off.”

Never breaking eye contact, you shimmy them off. Dinner is no longer what he wants to eat. Kagiake is no longer the taste he is imagining on his tongue. The answer to both is now you. It is now just a question of how he wants to have you. 

Does he want you to bend over the bed, arching your back and spreading your legs in the sluttiest of ways? Does he want you to ride his face while he looks up at you and his tongue explores your warm, wet depths? Decisions, decisions. In the meantime…

“Sit down on the bed and spread those legs for me, gorgeous,” he says, licking his lips as his glossy eyes unabashedly devour every inch of your flesh. 

You do as he asks, sitting down on the end of the bed and scooting back enough you can plant your feet on the bed, bending your knees and opening your legs wide for his hungry gaze. The lamp light glistens off your folds that are already shiny with your desire. Knowing you want him as badly as he wants you sends a rush to his head.

You are divine in his eyes. Your cunt is the altar at which he worships. Your pleasure is the wine he drinks. Your name is the prayer on his lips. 

And he cannot wait to absolutely ruin you. You babbling as you cum all over his cock and he fills you up to the brim sounds like a damn good reward. But first…

“Show me,” he says, moving to kneel at the end of the bed, putting him face to face with your pretty little pussy.

The tip of his tongue wets his suddenly dry lips as he watches you move one hand to slide it between your legs, using two fingers to spread your lips apart, revealing your dripping hole and slick folds fully. He gestures with his head for you to keep going. You know what to do. You know what he wants.

He stares intently, sunset gaze fixed on the sight as you slide two fingers into your slick cunt. He watches you thrust them in and out of your center several times before you remove them, holding out your hand to show him your coated fingers. He leans forward and sucks them, his tongue sliding over the digits and between them, making sure not a drop is waste. 

His large hands slide under your thighs to grab you hips and yank you down to the end of the bed, your feet now resting on his shoulders. His arms wrap around your legs so that his warm hands can hold your thighs wide open for him. He leans forward and uses the flat of his tongue to lick a line up your cunt, from hole to clit, moaning against you. 

He presses a kiss to your cunt while those gold and vermillion eyes stay locked on yours. He gives you a little smirk. Before his sinful tongue slides back between your folds he says a single word. Reverently. “Ambrosia.”

Kyojoruo is feasting and he is not leaving a single damn crumb. That is for damn sure. Your toes feel almost stiff from how tightly you have them curled. Your eyes are fluttering, struggling not to close and roll back in your head. He’s just so damn good with his mouth. 

His hand moves to join his mouth, fingers sink into your tight hole, making you cry out in pleasure. Your fingers pull the tie from his hair, letting his blaze colored locks fall freely, allowing you to fully bury your hands in his hair. You whimper and move your hips against him, lost in the pleasure he has coursing through your every vein, filling every cell of your being. 

“Feels so good, baby,” you pant, biting your lip. The sight of him savoring your cunt is almost too much to take. He has told you before that you are his favorite meal. His head is between your thighs and he is gluttonously lapping and sucking at your pussy, proving his words to be true. 

“Close, baby, so close!” you whine, fingers tightening their hold in his hair. 

“You can do it, sweet thing. You know what I want,” he coos up at you, kissing your thigh and watching the way your head lolls back in pleasure when he adds a third finger to your molten core. 

You whimper, muscles tightening and burning as your orgasm nears, tears prickling at your eyes. And then his fingers find that special spot, your loud cry telling him he hit his mark. He abuses it, thrusting his fingers in and out of you as he sucks and flicks at your clit. You throw your head back and cry out his name as your orgasm overtakes all of your sense.

Your pussy is clenching, fluttering, throbbing as your cream coats his fingers. Your tingles are spreading through your veins and your head is cleared of thoughts as fireworks explode behind your eyes. Your legs are trembling and your gasping for air between your cries of pleasure. 

“That’s it, my love. You’re doing good, sweet thing. Always giving me what I want. So good to me,” he says laying kisses on your inner thigh as he watches in wonder as you come down, fingers now moving slowly, working you through your orgasm, rubbing that tender spot inside to prolong it as long as he can. 

His thumb brushes against your clit, making your hand shoot down to grab his, an almost pleading look in your eyes. You are so oversensitized you fear you may die if he keeps going. He smirks, moving those wicked fingers to your lips, and groaning as you suck them clean, giving him a show as your tongue circles each finger, cleaning each finger, one at a time. 

He gets to his feet, leaning over you to kiss you and press you back onto the bed. He plants his hands by your head, kissing you passionately. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only turns you on more. Your legs wrap around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He adjusts so his cock can slide between your slick and sensitive folds, coating him with your juices. 

“Are you ready for me, my love?” he asks, grinding against you and eliciting a lewd sound to fall from your lips.

“Please, baby, please.” You are shameless as you damn near beg for his big fat cock. 

“Please what, my love?” he asks, a dark but teasing look in his eyes as he shifts his hips, the crown of his cock catching on your eager hole. He slips in just the very tip, rocking a little.

“Fuck me. I need to feel you inside me, baby,” you bite your lips and move your hands to cup his handsome face. “Need you to take the rest of your reward.”

He kisses you, messy and hard. He pulls back just the slightest bit with a little smirk and then he snaps his hips forward, impaling you with the full length of his cock all at once until his balls are resting against your ass. You cry out in ecstasy, your legs locking tighter around him and your fingers now digging crescents into the skin of his shoulders.

He does it again and again, pausing between the punishing thrusts, though not enough for you to wind down. It doesn’t take long for him to tire of that. His hands find yours and pin them above your head, locking fingers together as he begins to move faster, leaning over you and fucking into your wet hole at a steady rhythm though not nearly as hard as before. 

“Like that, my love?” he asks, kissing you and resting your foreheads together. 

“Like it,” you nod, tilting your head to kiss him again. This does feel good, but you want something more and you know he does too. “Your cock feels so good inside of me… but please fuck me harder, Kyo. Stop holding back.”

“Stop holding back?” he says, arching his prominent eyebrows. 

You grin up at him, leaning up to nip his bottom lip, catching it between your teeth and giving it a little tug. You know exactly how to get him to let go and give into his baser urges. “Yes. Stop holding back. This is your reward, remember? So fuck me like you know we both want you to. Like we both need you to.” To give him the final push you add with a little lip bite up at him, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You’ll be good, huh?” His voice has taken on a slightly deeper tone that slides over your skin like silk.

You see his dominant side come out fully in his eyes and features. You could swear your cunt gets wetter at just the sight. At just the thoughts of what he’s like in this space. He captures your lips in a passionate kiss before he pulls out of you, making you almost whine at the empty feeling you are left with. 

“Fours. Now.”

You roll over and move to the middle of the bed, doing as he said and getting on your fours. You arch your back and spread your legs, giving him a good view of your juicy cunt. Your heart pounds as he moves to kneel behind you. 

He leans over and grabs his pillows, putting them underneath you for support. He is obviously not counting on your arm strength holding up for long. Your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation of the fucking you are about to get.

Kyojuro’s large hands slide up your legs from your knees to your hips before gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them apart. His thumbs trace the edges of your pussy lips before spreading them apart, making you bite your lip at the feeling of being so open, so exposed. You clench as he spits on your pussy and starts rubbing the swollen tip up and down your folds before sliding into you, inch by inch. 

He leans over you, hands currently groping and squeezing your breasts, pulling on your sensitive nipples. He kisses your shoulder gently. “Are you ready to get what you asked for, sweet thing?”

You nod, enthusiastically, clenching around him and letting out a small whimper, his fat cock just fills you so fucking perfectly.

“Words.” He says in a firm tone.

“Yes, please,” you answer, giving nudge back with your hips in an attempt to get him moving.

“Good girl,” he kisses your shoulder one more time before he straightens up behind you.

Kyojuro has been given the green flag and the accelerator is flat to the floor. His hips go from zero to 60 in an instant and his fingers are digging into your hips as he starts fucking into your pretty little hole. He wastes no time, his pace hard and fast from the start. 

He groans as he watches your greedy cunt sucking him in again and again. He loves to watch himself fuck you. Your pretty lips are spread around his thick length, your creamy essence coating him and gathering already in a ring around the base of his cock.

“So wet and we only just started, sweet thing. You say this is my reward, but that was just an excuse to get me to fuck this sweet little cunt wasn’t it?” He grins as he feels you clench on his cock at his filthy words. His vocabulary is too refined for swearing often, but when it comes to bedroom dirty talk, his mouth is unashamedly, absolutely vulgar. He loves the way the words so blatantly turn you on.

“No… I wanted… wanted… to do something for you…” Your fingers are knotted in the sheets for purchase as he slams his fat cock into your tight hole again and again. 

“I’m sure that was part of it. But I think you just can’t keep your hands to yourself. Naughty, naughty, girl,” he says playfully before giving your ass a firm swat, admiring the way the fat of your ass jiggles and recoils, smirking at the surprised gasp that leaves your lips. 

He’s not the biggest fan of spanking you. But sometimes he just cannot resist giving you a swat on that perfect ass of yours. He is only a man after all. He is weak to the endless temptations dangled in front of him when you are on your knees like this, taking his cock so well. 

“It was… supposed to be a reward…. But no, I can’t… I can’t… keep my hands to myself,” you agree with a breathy laugh struggling with words as he keeps pistoning his cock in and out of you. You give him a playful look over your shoulder. You look cock drunk already. It is always such a stunning look on you. And then your playfulness turns back to pure desire. You horny little devil you, you bite your lip and almost purr at him, “How could I… when I am married to a… gorgeous man… who.. ahh… fucks my pussy this good?”

He lets out a growl and leans over you. He fists a hand in your hair, pulling your head up and back, resting against his collar bone, His other hand closes over your throat, squeezing gently on the sides, feeling your cunt clenching down on your cock as he does. He continues to move his hips hard and fast.

“Be a good girl and let me hear you. Let me hear those slutty sounds you make when I’m fucking you so good,” he says mouthing your ear and nipping the lobe. 

He needs to hear you singing that sweet siren song. He needs to hear the desperate, broken, sounds you make as his cock splits you open over and over again. He needs to hear you babbling. He needs to fuck you to the point where his thighs and balls are covered in your pleasure and his name is the only damn word on your lips. He shifts his angle just slightly and grins at the absolutely vulgar moan you let escape. 

“Oh, fuck! Kyo! There! So deep! Shit!”

Found it. The hand on your throat moves down your body to bury between your folds, finding the hard pearl he seeks easily. His fingers start with circles and rubs, teasing back your hood and making the hard nub swell. And then his fingers are moving in a rough fanning motion over the bead, pressing down, stimulating you and smearing your slick on your lips. 

You start to pant and your body is stiffening, your cunt getting tighter and tighter around him. He can tell you’re getting close. The hand in your hair moves to your opposite shoulder, his thick, muscular forearm now against your throat pressing back carefully. He just wants you to get a head rush, not pass out. He still has more plans for you tonight. 

You have let the feral beast out of its enclosure, and he will not be sated easily. You told him to fuck you like he needed. You asked for this. You begged for this. Now you needed to be a good girl like you promised, and take it. 

“Cum for me, sweet thing, milk my cock with that tight little cunt,” he says, mouthing your shoulder before sinking his teeth in.

“Oh gods, Kyo! I’m cumming, fuck, baby! I’m cumming… I’m cumming so hard!” You wail beautifully as you cum while he fucks into you as hard as he can. The hand between your legs continues assaulting your clit. You feel so good when you cum. He wants to keep you spasming, fluttering, creaming on his cock for as long as he can.  

You let out a higher pitched whine and lift one of your hands to rest on the wrist of the hand between your legs. He knows what it means. You’re too oversensitized.

He slows his thrusts, the arm around your throat is now rubbing lovingly up and down your back, the hand formerly between your legs now gripping your hip, his thumb rubbing circles. He works you through your orgasm now at a much slower pace, letting your twitching form come down from the high. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he says against your ear, his heavy breaths fanning against your sweat slicked skin. He kisses your shoulder gently several times before checking in. “Are you doing alright, my love?”

You start to nod, but you know better so you answer in a hoarse voice, “I’m good. I’m good. I promise. Just… just needed a moment.”

He stills his hips. “Give me a color.”

“Green.”

You answered in words. That’s the rules. He leans over you, hands now both on your breasts. He grins at the little mewls you are making as his fingers tug at your nipples. His hips are grinding his cock inside you, balls resting against your folds. 

“Time to ride my cock, sweet thing. I want to watch you fuck yourself on me.”

You rearrange positions, surprised your limbs have any strength left in them after the mind blowing, almost black out good, orgasm you just had. Kyojuro helps you line his cock up with your dripping hole. You lower down onto it with your hands braced on his chest. 

You moan together as you sink down, taking him inch by inch until his cock is fully sheathed inside you. “So deep, baby. Feel so good inside me.”

“It feels so good to be inside you,” he praises. His hands roam up and down your body in utter reverence before cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You start to move, starting with a slow grind, shivering as the thatch of hair at his base stimulates your clit. You begin to move faster, rocking and grinding. His fingers are digging into your hips and his glossy gaze is fixed on you. 

You move your hands down to his stomach and back until they brace on his thighs, making you lean back and giving him a better view of the way his cock is being taken again and again by your pussy. You start to lift your hips, moving up and down, getting more confident in your movements as you go. 

“Hands on my chest.” You do as he asks, hips slowing to a grind as you wait for his next command. He grips your chin firmly in one hand, the other moves to clap down on your ass cheek, smirking as you involuntarily clench on his cock. “Ride my cock. Be a good girl and show me how much you love it.”

You begin to raise and drop your hips. Your jaw is hanging slightly ajar, your gaze is unfocused. His cock is just so damn addictive. It feels so good inside you. He stretches you and fills you so well. You can feel every inch of his meaty cock on every thrust. You move up and down on his cock, taking him as deep and fast as you can. 

“That’s it, keep going, sweet thing. Keep showing me how much you love this cock,” he sucks on his bottom lip and his fingers are digging into your hips.

You moan as you ride his cock, listening to the grunts and growls coming out of your beloved’s mouth as your hot core moves up and down, up and down. Sweat is glistening on both of you. A single bead rolls down between your breasts and Kyojuro leans forward to lick it up. 

“I’ll take over from here, sweet thing,” he says as he pulls your head down to kiss you passionately. 

You nod, limbs exhausted and weak but nowhere near done being ruined by the man you love. Your hands rest on his collarbone as he moves his legs so they are spread and his feet are planted on the bed, spreading you wide open and taking control of the situation. 

His hands are now on your ass, squeezing and keeping you wide open. He starts thrusting up into you. You moan and throw your head back, the angle he is at feels incredible. The bulbous head of his cock is dragging over that special spot in your gummy walls on every thrust. Its fucking perfect.

“So good, Kyo! So good!” you moan, leaning forward to kiss him, rocking your hips to meet his as best you can as he fucks up into you. 

His lips move from yours to kiss across your chin and mouth at your neck. He groans against your skin, sucking a dark mark into your skin, marking his territory. Your hands bury in his hair, holding him close.

“Be a good girl and just keep taking this cock, just a little longer,” he says against the skin of your neck. “Doin’ so good… Bein’ so good…”

“Don’t stop, Kyo. Don’t stop until you cum!”

“Yeah?” he asks, his hips starting to pick up speed.

“Need you to cum! Need to feel you cum inside me! Please! Feels so good! So big, stretch me so good! Don’t stop!”

There it is!! There is the mindless babbling he was looking for. His arms move to wrap around you, his large hands rest on your back as he holds you close and his hips start slamming into you at a brutal pace. You are moaning over and over again in his arms, babbling as tears of pleasure are leaking from your eyes. 

You grab his face and kiss him, lost in the moment, lost in him. All that exists in Kyojuro and this moment right here. This is what you wanted. This is what you needed. And it’s obviously what he did as well. 

He presses his head back into the bed, watching your face as his orgasm reaches its breaking point. His hands are suddenly on your hips again, fingers digging in for control and bringing you down to meet his every thrust. There is no rhythm to his fucking. He is stunning beneath you,  completely gone to the moment, completely lost in the pursuit of emptying his balls into you. 

It’s rough. It’s feral. And it feels so fucking good.

“Oh fuck, sweet thing! I’m cumming, my love! Here it comes! Be a good girl and take it, take… every…fucking…drop!”

You moan as he slams your cunt down on him for the last time. His hands hold you hostage as he grinds against you and fills you to the brim with his thick hot seed. He lowers his head to the bed and his arms return to being wrapped around you. His strong hands roaming up and down your back as you both come back down to reality. 

You rest with your head on his shoulder, like him working to catch your breath. You glances at his face, the relaxed smile he gives you makes you let out a happy little laugh. “So?”

“So what?” he asks, head laying back on the bed. He looks so fucking hot with his hair a mess and a fucked out expression on his face you are sure matches your own.

“Was I good?” you tease.

He grins and pulls your head closer to his, and kisses your lips gently several times. “You were perfect, as always.”

“Was that a good reward?” you ask, fingers drawing circles on his chest.

He nods and kisses your forehead, “Very much so. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Like seriously, my love, anytime,” you say, smiling at his answering grin. “But we still have one problem to address.”

“We do?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah… we still need dinner,” you answer with a little smirk.

“Ah, yes that. I have an idea!”

“Say more!” you cock your head to the side.

One of his hands on your back holds you where you are and the other reaches out to grab his phone off the end table. He grins up at you and you feel his cock twitch within your cunt.

“Again?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Again,” he grins. “You stay right where you are, I’ll place an order at the Chinese place you love.”

You hum in approval, sitting up on his lap, listening to him begin to speak. But you are a devious little thing and you start just slightly rocking your hips against him. You may be tired, your muscles may be burning, but that doesn't matter. 

You grin like a cat that has caught the canary. The look he gives you as you move on his hardening cock while he is trying to place the order promises payback. In the time it takes for him to place the order between clenched teeth, you have his cock fully hard and throbbing inside of you again. 

Kyojuro ends the call telling them to take their time and tosses his phone onto the night stand. Strong hands grip onto you and quickly roll you over onto your back. He grabs your wrists and pins you down into the mattress. His hips begin to move with purpose and he smirks. “Again.”

[winchesterwild78]

The PE Teacher pt 2

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, fluff, SMUT

A/N: This was an idea given to me by @jackles010378. You and Dean start spending more time together. Trying to keep your professional and personal lives separate.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. I don’t own the rights to any of these characters.

Does not follow the Supernatural Timeline.

Written fast and not edited well. Please overlook any errors.

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated.

Please don’t take my work and use it as your own or on any other platform.

Minors DNI 18+

The next few weeks Dean and I started to see each other almost every night after work.

Walking my students to their buses I noticed Dean was standing outside already at his afternoon duty station. His job was to help the pick ups get in their cars.

I had to walk past him to get the first set of students on the bus. “Good afternoon Ms Y/L/N.” He smiled. I smiled, “Good afternoon, Mr Winchester.” He winked and I blushed.

The kids took turns fist bumping him as they got on the bus.

I noticed a mom walking up and she made a beeline to Dean. I chuckled because they have all tried to get with him and nothing worked.

As I walked back towards the school I noticed the mom standing really close and her hand was on his arm.

I tried to ignore it but then I heard him laugh. The laugh he was famous for when he thought something was really funny. Head tilting backwards, full body laugh.

My eyes flicked up and a pang of jealousy shot through my body as I saw his hand brush against hers.

I went back inside the school to get my students who were pickups. I noticed the mom was still standing by Dean and my heart sank when I saw her hand him a piece of paper and he took it.

I was heartbroken. “Ms Y/L/N, there’s my mom. Can I go to her?” The sweet little voice broke me out of my head. “Um, yeah sweetie. Go to Mr Winchester, he’ll put you in the car.”

I saw her walk over and her mom pulled up. Dean helped her in the car and his head turned and he looked at me. I couldn’t look at him so I turned my attention to my students.

The rest of the dismissal was a blur. The mom stood beside Dean the whole time. When her daughter came out she still stayed. Dean talked and it looked like they were bantering back and forth. I felt sick.

Karie walked up, “Looks like Ms Mackie snagged Dean. I swear I thought the two of you would get together.”

I softly chuckled, “Yeah. Me too.” I gave Dean one last look and went back inside.

The tears in my eyes threatened to fall, but I bit my lip to keep them at bay. I packed my bag and headed to my car.

Walking out the front door of the school I heard Dean call my name but I kept walking.

“Y/N, wait.” I hear him call before I make a beeline to my car. I hear the door click behind me and then open in haste.

“Y/N wait!” I stopped and turned. The tears burning my eyes. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You look upset.”

I softly scoffed. “I’m fine. I’m tired.” “Okay, well I’ll be over later.” He smiled and touched my arm.

I pulled away and as I turned to leave I said, “Don’t bother.”

Dean stood frozen in place in shock. “What, why?”

“Dean, this was a mistake. I need to go.”

Dean stood outside my car dumbfounded. He went back inside to find Karie. “Hey, Karie. Is Y/N okay? I just saw her in the parking lot and she looked upset. Did she say anything to you?”

“No, not really. We saw you and Ms Mackie at dismissal, but other than that no. I told her I thought the two of you would get together and she said so did she.”

Dean’s heart sank. He knew he messed up. He just didn’t want to cause a scene and was being polite. He threw the note away once he got inside. “Thanks Karie. I appreciate it.”

She nodded and Dean grabbed his stuff and headed to my place.

I walked in my house and sat my stuff down. The tears I’d been fighting started to fall. Dean kept trying to call and message me but I couldn’t talk to him right now.

I went to my bedroom and changed my clothes, putting on my sweatpants and oversized shirt.

I walked in the kitchen to pour a glass of wine and there was a knock at the door.

I sat the glass down and went to answer it.

Looking through the peephole I saw Dean. Still dressed in his work clothes. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Dean’s eyes met mine and his face fell. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. I was being polite to the mom. As soon as I got in the school I threw the note away. I have no idea what it says.”

“Dean, I saw you with her. You touched her and the two of you were bantering back and forth. I get it, I’m your dirty secret. We can’t let anyone know the hot PE teacher is dating the frumpy Kindergarten teacher.”

“No, baby. Don’t say that about yourself. You’re beautiful and all I want.”

I scoffed, “Dean it’s fine. I get it. This was just fun for you, a way to pass the time. You’re free to date whoever you want. It’s not like we put a label on us.”

I started to close the door and he stuck his foot in, blocking it.

“Y/N, don’t be like that. You’re not a dirty secret. I just figured we’d keep our relationship to ourselves so problems don’t arise at work.”

I scoffed, “Problems? Oh like ruining your chances with the hot moms. I get it Dean. I’m exhausted and just want to lay down. Please move your foot.”

He sighed heavily, “Please don’t do this. I really like you.”

I couldn’t look at him, my heart was broken. Every single guy I liked, let in always broke my heart. There was always someone prettier, skinnier, sexier than me.

“Dean, please just go.” A tear slipped down my cheek. Dean’s hand came up and cupped my face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am.” He wiped the tear away and placed a kiss on my forehead.

He sighed, turned and walked away. I closed the door with a click and cried.

Leaning against the door, sobs shook my body.

There was something about Dean that made me feel safe.

Dean hadn’t walked far when he heard my sobs. His heart sank. Dean knew he had to fix this, but he wasn’t sure how.

The weekend passed by in a fog. I barely left the couch. The events from Friday playing in my head. Monday morning my alarm blared and I didn’t want to go to work.

How could I face him after this? At least we haven’t had sex yet or said I love you.

Walking into the school the halls echoing with the sounds of my shoes hitting the floor.

I walked into my classroom and turned on the lights. Sitting on my table were two dozen long stemmed red and pink roses.

I gasped softly. About fifteen minutes later my students were coming in. They were each carrying a piece of paper and it confused me.

“What do you guys have?” They giggled as they handed their paper to me. After the last one came through the door I put the papers together.

I read the papers and tears pricked my eyes.

“Ms Y/N Y/L/N-The Hot Kindergarten Teacher, I don’t want to hide you. I really like you and I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you say?

Mr Dean Winchester-The Hot PE Teacher

I smiled and looked up to see Dean standing at my classroom door with a pink and red rose.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Tears fell from my eyes and down my cheeks.

I leaped into his arms, “Yes!” He kissed my lips softly and the kids said “eww”. We pulled apart laughing.

His hands cupped my face, “sweetheart, I told you you’re not a dirty secret. I want everyone to know I’m yours and you’re mine.”

I hugged him tightly and he kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you after work, okay?” I nodded and he kissed me one last time before leaving.

Later that afternoon the school was buzzing with what happened with Dean and I earlier. Karie and Tiffany wanted details and wanted to know why I kept it from them. I explained we wanted to keep it between ourselves, but I promised to keep them in the loop.

I stopped at the store on the way home to grab stuff for dinner. Dean was coming over and I wanted to cook for him. I grabbed an apple pie from the bakery for dessert.

Arriving home I got changed and started cooking. Dean volunteers after school on Monday to help coach the peewee basketball team, so I knew I had plenty of time to cook and have it ready for when he came over.

The aroma of baked chicken and garlic herb potatoes filled the kitchen. The timer on the oven dinged, indicating the food was done. I pulled the pan out of the oven. Closing the oven I heard a knock on the front door.

I smiled and answered the door. Dean was standing there wearing dark jeans, a dark blue Henley and a flannel.

I bit my lip on instinct. He pulled me into a hug and he smelled heavenly.

When he pulled back he kissed my lips, “Hey, sweetheart. You look beautiful.” My cheeks filled with a rosy hue as I smiled.

“You look pretty nice yourself, Winchester.”

I stepped to the side so he could come in. He looked over his shoulder and smiled, “It smells amazing in here.” “Thank you, I hope you’re hungry.”

He turned and his eyes flashed with lust, “I’m starving.” He pulled me into a searing kiss. It turned heavy and passionate quickly.

Dean’s hands slid up my back and into my hair. His fingers laced around my hair and pulled me deeper into the kiss. When we pulled apart our lungs screaming for air as our chests rose and fell in tandem. Trying to take in the air we needed.

Dean’s fingers brushed against my lips and across my cheeks, “You are so beautiful and I missed you so much.” I leaned into his touch, “I missed you too. Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

He nodded and our fingers interlaced each other as we walked to the table. Dean pulled out my chair and then took his seat. “Sweetheart, this looks amazing. Thank you.” “You’re welcome. I hope you like it, and save room for dessert. I got pie.”

His eyes darted up to mine, “Pie?! Oh wow, a girl after my heart.” “You better believe it, Winchester.”

As we ate we talked about the day and the past few days. We made a promise to each other to always talk things out. I promised I would work hard at not letting my past trauma affect how I communicate with him. He promised to pull back on the charm, well towards others.

When dinner was cleaned up, Dean and I made our way to the couch. He pulled me close and we kissed. Dean held me tight and I straddled his thighs.

Dean gasped softly and I smirked. Leaning forward I placed a soft kiss on Dean’s lips. Pulling his bottom teeth gently between my teeth. Things turned heated quickly.

Dean’s hands slid up my body and back down to my hips. His strong hands held my hips in place against his groin. I could feel his hardness through his jeans and mine.

His fingers played with the hem of my shirt and I nodded. A silent plea met with a silent yes. Dean’s calloused fingers slid under the hem of my shirt and made their way up to my breasts. His fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

My breath hitched as his hands made their way to my breasts. Dean’s hands slipped around and unhooked my bra. Dean’s eyes met mine as he placed a kiss on my lips.

He removed my shirt and bra. Biting his lip he took in my exposed flesh. Dean’s breath hitched. “You’re so beautiful.”

Dean leaned forward and I helped remove his shirt. My hands rested softly on his firm chest. My fingers laid against his flesh and I saw a shiver run through his body.

My eyes met his in a pleading look. I needed him, no I wanted him and I knew he wanted me too.

Dean’s lips kissed down my torso. One hand gently cupping my breast while his mouth kissed, sucked and licked the other. His tongue flicked my hardened nipple as his teeth gently bit it. Pulling a moan from my lips.

I could feel the heat pooling between my thighs. “Dean, I’m ready.” His green eyes turned darker with lust, “Are you sure sweetheart?”

I nodded and stood, taking his hands and pulling him up with me.

Our fingers intertwined as I led him to the bedroom.

Once inside the room Dean gently laid me back on the bed as his strong arms caged me under him.

His lips pressed against mine and he worked his way down my torso. A chill went through me as he got to the hem of my pants.

His green orbs darker with lust, looked up to mine. I nodded. His fingers grabbed my hips and made their way to my zipper. I lifted my hips off the bed as he slid my pants down, leaving me in my soaked panties.

Dean positioned himself between my thighs. His strong hands parting my legs, exposing my soaked panties to him. He grinned as he looked down. My face flushed red with heat.

“Can I?” He asked in his deep, whiskey smooth voice.

“Yes, Dean.” I swallowed hard. My body trembled under his touch. My breathing shaky as I looked into his eyes.

His fingers hooked my panties and pulled them down. Dean’s calloused hands ran back up my leg and held my thighs in place.

He licked his lips, “I can’t wait to taste you.” I nodded, giving him the permission he needed.

The first contact of his hot breath on my soaked core had my body shaking. The anticipation filled my very soul and my body throbbed with excitement.

His head disappeared between my thighs and as his tongue made contact I arched my hips up and moaned.

My hands instinctively went into his hair. He began lapping at my pussy like a man starved. Placing love bites on my inner thigh and on my clit.

I moved my hips with him and before too long I was feeling my insides coil tightly. Ready to break at any moment.

“Oh yes, Dean! Fuck.. don’t stop.” My please stuttering from my lips as my head began to spin. He took one hand and slid two fingers inside me. Causing a moan from my lips.

“That’s right, baby girl. You take me so well.” His praise turned me on more. He sucked, licked and nibbled my clit as I moved closer to my release.

“Dean…. I’m….close.” I grabbed his hair and then the sheets. Not knowing what to hold on to as he thrusted me over the edge and my release hit hard.

So hard I was seeing stars. Dean smirked and a light chuckle fell from his lips. He leaned forward and kissed my lips, I could still taste my release on his lips.

I looked at him and smirked, “You’re overdressed, Mr. Winchester.” My eyes flicked down to his pants. I could see his hard member straining against his pants. I bit my lip.

He stood and unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down over his thick thighs and removed them. His boxers contained his hard cock and I wanted it to be freed.

I leaned forward and placed my hands on his thighs, pulling him closer to the bed. Our eyes met and he smirked. My fingers hooked into the waistband and he nodded.

Sliding his boxers down, his hard cock sprang free. I gasped slightly as I took in the sight of his perfectly toned body. My breath hitched.

“Like what you see?” I nodded.

I laid back, pulling him down with me. I felt his cock pushing against my thigh as he kissed me.

“Dean, I need you. Please baby.” Dean positioned himself between my thighs and grabbed a condom. He tore the pack open with his teeth and slid it down his hard shaft.

Lining himself up he pushed his cock head into my entrance. As he pushed in we both gasped.

My hands gripped his arms and his hands held my hips. Pushing every inch in he stilled for a moment.

Our eyes connected as he kissed my lips. “You feel so good baby.” I moved my hips, silently asking him to move.

He pulled out and pushed back in. Our hips connected together and again he pulled back and in again.

Dean set a slow, steady pace. Our moans and pants filled the room. The bed squeaked with each thrust.

My back arched off the bed as Dean picked up my legs and changed the position. His cock hitting my cervix as his long, thick cock filled me to the brim.

My walls stretched and wrapped around him. Each thrust took me closer to another release.

He felt so good inside me. His lips kissed my body, leaving love bites and marking me as his.

As my walls squeezed tighter I felt his thrusts speed up. “Dean..oh fuck! I’m gonna cum again.”

“Me too baby. Cum for me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.” Within a second I was cumming hard.

He groaned as my walls grabbed ahold of his cock. Dean pushed deeper and harder in me and with a grunt I felt his cock twitch and empty his seed in the condom.

Dean stilled and as he pulled out he rested his forehead on mine and kissed my lips.

He climbed out of bed to clean himself up and when he returned he brought a cloth to clean me up.

Grabbing the sheet he pulled it over us and I laid against his chest. His arms wrapped around me and a fog of euphoria washed over me.

I looked up at him. Looked into his beautiful green eyes, so full of warmth and love. I smiled softly and whispered, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean gasped softly and took a shaky breath. His mind exploded with the words and thought of the vulnerability of the moment.

Taking a deep breath he lifted my chin, kissed my lips and whispered against them, “I love you, too.”

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[featherandferns]

paint by number (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | sequel to colour in the lines! | the answer to this ask ;)

content warning: sexual content (f receiving, m receiving, p in v - MDNI); drinking

word count: 13k.

blurb: now in autumn, you and JJ seem happy as pie in your new relationship. There's only one problem: your best friend Esme can't stand JJ, and he's determined to find out why.

JJ hated school. He saw it as a waste of time; hours spent sitting behind various desks, staring at a whiteboard, staring at a chalkboard, staring at a piece of paper. Nothing interested him. Not the Roman Empire or the prose that Shakespeare wrote or the chemical equations that explained things like oxygen and water. JJ didn’t care how or why things were the way they were. He never questioned it and so never felt the pull for answers which were given to him in class. The only good thing about school? It got him away from his dad. 

Luke had been on a bender over the weekend and had come back drunk and enraged. As always, JJ was the one that was unwillingly in his line of sight. He became Luke’s outlet as always. Walked away with a split lip and a handful of bruises scattered across his body. When Monday came around, JJ only contemplated skipping for a few minutes. That was until he heard his dad stirring across the hall. With that, JJ was grabbing his backpack and clambering out his bedroom window. 

In books and movies and adverts, teachers are these benevolent beings. They’re patient and understanding. They take pity on the kids from darker backgrounds and shine the light on them, lifting them up. JJ hadn’t experienced that. Teachers looked down their nose at him. He could feel their distaste in the way they spoke to him, in how they addressed him, and in the ways they’d pick on him to answer when they knew he wouldn’t know what to say. It pissed him off. Made him want to give it back. A taste of their own medicine. 

Romeo and Juliet was the biggest snooze-fest JJ had ever read. ‘Read’ might be generous. He had skimmed the pages whilst hanging on the boat with his friends, having stolen the novel from Pope after he’d fallen asleep. Love-dovey-crap, that was all it was. The ending was ridiculous. Killing yourself for love? 'Give me a break', JJ thought to himself, snapping the book shut. It was fair to say the quiz that Mrs Hall dished out on the Wednesday prior hadn’t particularly elated JJ. Who said this, who did that - who fucking cares, is what JJ would like to know. He’d guessed half the answers and, whenever possible, left ridiculous responses to the others. But now, on Monday, after a weekend that felt like JJ had dragged his feet through the doorway of Hell, he was having to face the consequences of his actions, yet again. 

“I’ve got to say, guys. Not your finest hour,” the teacher, Mrs Hall, remarks as she paces the aisles of the classroom. JJ lolls his head back in his seat, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest. His foot taps impatiently on the vinyl floor, his combat boots a strange comfort in his unease of being in a classroom. The click-click of Mrs Hall’s heels on the floor feels like a countdown as she nears JJ’s desk. The smell of casserole comes with it. He wondered if she ate it everyday, for how often she smelt like the stuff. Boiled potatoes and carrots and gravy. JJ cracks an eye open to see his quiz sheet being placed in front of him on the table. 

“Poor work, Mr Maybank,” Mrs Halls reprimands. “I want you to see me after class.”

JJ peers down at the red letter ‘F’ circled in marker. It sneers at him, mocks him and his stupidity. What a waste. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he would be better off dead. This felt like proof that JJ had nothing to show for himself. 

Restless, heart beating and body sweating, JJ tugs off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. Huffing, he rocks back in his seat and tries to calm himself down. He’s angry. At the teacher, at the quiz, at Shakespeare, at himself. His mind fills with insults which berate him, chipping at his confidence and self-worth, and clipping his mood shorter and shorter. 

“Nice job.”

JJ glances over to his right. Mrs Hall blocks his line of sight but he can make out the other student well enough. She’s chewing on her lip, hands neatly placed in her lap as if praying, and she’s staring down at her quiz paper that Mrs Hall has just returned to her. His eyes flit up to Mrs Hall’s face. She’s proud, visibly so. Nobody’s ever looked at JJ like that. 

“Top of the class - as always,” she adds. Then she’s continuing down the aisle to the tables in front. JJ frowns as he watches the girl. She reaches out a hand and strokes the ‘A +’ that JJ can make out from where he’s sat, as if she’s some Disney princess petting a wild rabbit. It’s laughable. She thinks it makes her special, having a teacher give her praise as if handing out candy, letting a stupid letter define her. But it does define her. Makes her better than him. Than everyone. Gives her keys to doors that JJ won’t ever be shown to. He can imagine her going home, gloating to her parents with faux humbleness, waving the quiz paper around to her glassy eyed parents who beam with pride at their wonderful ball of sunshine. And he hates the image he conjures in his mind. Hates the way he can practically feel the warmth of the fairytale-like fireplace on his skin; the smell of the chicken roasting in the oven; the sound of the radio playing cheerful music from the better decades. 

JJ looks back down at his quiz paper. The ‘F’ looks back at him. It winks. JJ snorts. His voice doesn’t sound like his own when the worlds bubble up from inside him. They come out his mouth in a mocking sneer, as uncontrollable as vomit. 

“Fuckin’ virgin.”

The girl behind him sniggers, and so does the boy in front. It makes JJ smile, smug and proud, because that is what he’s good for. Being the comedic relief, with quippy remarks. That’s all he’ll ever be: the joke. 

But in his peripheral, he sees the girl’s head suddenly sag. It hangs low, shameful, embarrassed. He tilts his head just-so to make out her face. Her eyes are wet. Her lower lip trembles and he watches her sink her teeth into it, trying to keep it still. It looks like she might cry. His heart squeezes. For some reason, he thinks of his mother. Of the way she used to smile at him when tucking him into bed. Guilt washes over him like a cold shower and it makes him uncomfortable. It shocks him, catches him off guard, because he doesn’t even know this girl, so why does he care if he upset her? 

But he does care. He cares a lot. He cares because he doesn’t want to be that guy. To be callous and cruel and condescending. JJ suddenly realises that he doesn’t want to be his father.

His throat goes dry and he stares down at his test paper, but his attention remains on the girl. He hears her sniffle. He clenches his jaw. The words of an apology churn his stomach, similarly to before, but they’re less willing to come out. And just when JJ’s about to muster the courage, the girl’s hand is shooting up. 

“Yes?”

“Can I be excused to the bathroom, please?”

“Go ahead,” Mrs Hall sighs. The chair squeezes loudly as she pushes out of her seat. JJ glances at the door just in time to see her slip out and into the hallway. He swallows down the lingering guilt, pressing his eyes shut. 

“Alright, let’s get started. If everybody could open up to page fifty-three, I really want to start by reminding you about the conflict between the two families - since most of you seemed to forget about this in the quiz…” Mrs Hall begins her lesson. JJ doesn’t make any notes. Instead, he quietly and strangely obsesses over the fact that the girl never returns to her seat for the rest of the lesson. 

Over a year later…

JJ waits outside of the elementary school. It’s hot today, even though summer is officially over. Fall had walked into people’s lives with cinnamon coloured leaves and cool breezes at night, but there were still long stretches of daylight, warm enough to warrant nothing more than a sweater. He stands in his trousers and graphic tee, hands in his pockets, and rocks back on forth on his heels. He knows he doesn’t fit in with the others who stand in the playground. The mothers who gather in small groups like birds, squawking their gossip to one another. The fathers who small-talk over the latest baseball or football game, occasionally glancing at their phones to check their emails from work. There’s a nanny here too which is providing JJ with entertainment. She’s trying to wrangle three toddlers, with a brooding preteen unwilling to assist. The baby in the pushchair is crying out for attention. The nanny looks like she might throttle someone if they look at her the wrong way, though, so he only glances from time to time. 

His phone buzzes and JJ checks the group chat with the Pogues. They’re planning on going to a kegger tonight; JJ replies that he needs to check with you. The last text he sent to you remains unanswered, though that isn’t all that uncommon. 

‘At Leo’s school now.’

The ringing school bell has him shutting off his phone and pocketing it. The doors open not long afterwards and children come flooding out into the school yard in throngs. Girls loudly talking over one another, boys half-wrestling whilst descending the stairs, teachers looking crazed as they follow and try to control the chaos. Leo walks out by himself. He wanders out into the world, undisturbed by the madness happening around him. His hands clasp his backpack straps. He stops suddenly in the middle of the pathway just after the stairs. Some kids shout at him for it, brushing past him, and JJ has to clench his fists to save from walking over and giving them a piece of his mind. But then Leo’s looking around patiently, scanning the area, until his eyes land on JJ. He gives a small smile which speaks to boundless enthusiasm and runs across the tarmac to him. JJ grins, dropping to his knees, and lets out a huff when Leo’s small body collides into his with an embrace. 

“Hey bud,” JJ chuckles, hugging him back. “You good, little dude?”

“‘M good,” Leo nods, pulling away. JJ helps him shrug off his backpack; looping an arm through it, JJ carries it easily on his back. At the feel of Leo’s clammy hand pawing for JJ’s, he gladly takes the little boy’s hand in his, and the two of them begin their walk out of the school grounds. 

“How was school, little dude?”

“S’good,” Leo murmurs.

“Oh yeah? What lessons you have?”

“Um…we had gym, and art, and math, and English…”

“Sounds like a busy one, huh?” JJ wonders, glancing down at Leo. He’s focused ahead but nods. He gently squeezes JJ’s hand and JJ smiles, looking ahead. The rest of the walk back to your house is spent in scattered conversation. Leo asks borderline intrusive questions about yourself and JJ, and JJ likes to think he strategically dodges them. Leo asks about girls and what they like, and reminds JJ about the “prettiest girl in the whole world” that’s in his lessons, and JJ gives appropriate advice for the audience. When the pair finally round the now familiar walkway to your home, Leo’s hand slips free and he races ahead. JJ follows him into the house. 

“We’re home!” Leo hollers loudly. He rushes into the living room. JJ chuckles, shaking his head, closing the door, toeing off his boots. “Mama! Sissy! We’re home!”

“I think they heard you, little man,” JJ calls back. He places Leo’s backpack by the rack of coats and shoes, and he smiles to himself like an idiot at the sound of your footsteps on the stairs. Standing up, he looks over to catch you hurrying through the hallway to him. You’re beaming, glasses sitting pretty on your face like always, and JJ opens his arms in time to catch your hug, He wraps an arm around you and lifts you off the floor, savouring your giggle, grunting happily as he squeezes your frame against his. Your feet carefully reunite with the floor; arms staying coiled around his neck. 

“Hey brown-nose,” JJ smiles down at you. 

“Hey blue eyes,” you smile back. You push onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips, and JJ swears to God he feels every minor stress that he’s collected throughout the day fizzle away. “Thanks for picking up Leo.”

“All good. You get that food shop done?”

“Yep. Mom should be back any time soon,” you tell him. The kiss you press to his cheek is like a reflex before you pull away, untangling yourself, walking to the kitchen. JJ follows you. He sits at the kitchen island and watches you unpack the shopping. You slide a box of cherry tomatoes over to him which he happily cracks open, popping a few in his mouth. From the living room, the television whirs to life, loudly chattering into the quiet. 

“Missed you at school today,” JJ tells you. 

You smile as you open the fridge. “Missed you too.”

“Mathletes go well at lunch?”

“Yep. We think we might make it to the finals this year,” you reply, slotting various fresh fruit and vegetables into the fridge. 

“Damn. That’s exciting.”

You laugh. “Might wanna look up the definition for the word ‘exciting’.”

JJ laughs too, nods a little, eats another tomato. “Hey, the Pogues texted today. Said something ‘bout a kegger tonight. You down?”

“Maybe,” you say, closing the fridge. You wander over to him, leaning across the counter. “What time?”

“Whenever you wanna go, really. Guessing you wanna change,” he shrugs. 

You feign offence, leaning back and gesturing to your sweatshirt and jeans, stained with curry you meal prepped the night before. “You sayin’ I don’t look hot?”

“Come on,” JJ croons, grinning playfully, “You always look hot.” You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself, and resume your previous position propped up on the counter. “Seriously, though. You wanna go?”

“I’m guessing you do.”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he replies, making you laugh. 

“A’right. On one condition, though,” you say, pointing a finger at him. JJ’s heart immediately sinks an inch lower in his chest. “Esme’s coming too.”

“Really?” JJ asks. You shrug and steal a tomato. 

“She’s my best friend. I feel more comfortable at those kinda things with her,” you say, popping the tomato in your mouth. 

“You do know that I’ll be there too, right?” JJ half jokes. You roll your eyes once more. 

“I know that, dumbass. It’s just nice having another familiar face, y’know?”

“The Pogues not familiar enough yet?” JJ wonders. You’d met them more than enough times, now.

You shrug. “I just worry ‘bout her. She doesn’t really go out to a lot of things. ‘Sides, I want you two to get to know each other more. Y’know, hang out and stuff.”

“A’right, a’right, sure. Esme can come too,” JJ says. 

You grin at him. “Thanks, babe.” 

You lean across the counter, clearing the space between the two of you, and press a quick kiss to JJ’s lips. Then you’re pulling out your phone and calling Esme’s number, wandering out the kitchen just as the line connects. JJ sighs and tosses another tomato into his mouth. As he half-listens to your conversation in the hall, his mind begins to wander. 

You and JJ slotted into each other’s life like the perfect sized hardback on an overflowing bookshelf. Time which was once kept to the confines of tutoring sessions in Mr Sunn’s classroom had now stretched into days at the beach, hours on the boat, or nights in your bedroom. When neither of you were at school, and JJ wasn’t at work, you’d spend your time together in one way or another. You’d lie down on the wooden slays of the pier in a bikini, holding a book above your face to read, shielding you from the sun, whilst JJ would fish nearby. You’d lounge on the boat, relaying the details from the latest documentary you’d watched, whilst JJ would drive the two of you around the marshland. You’d lean against his shoulder, sitting side by side, roasting marshmallows over the campfire with the other Pogues, stealing sips from his can of beer. You’d stand at the stove, stirring a comically large wok full of food that you were meal prepping for the week, dressed in one of his sweaters and a pair of sleep shorts, with JJ’s arms wrapped around you from behind as if he was the one holding you together. You’d snuggle against him, safe and cosy in your bed, glasses slipping down your nose as the two of you would watch Rick and Morty on your laptop. You’d watch like a hawk as JJ mimicked surf lessons with Leo, balancing the young boy on a child’s sized board precariously planted atop of a stack of throw pillows. 

JJ had wormed his way into every aspect of your life. Your mom welcomed him as if he was an extension of the family. She borderline pressured him to stay for dinner and always reminded him to help himself to anything in the kitchen. She let JJ waste her daughter’s time with someone who would probably never amount to more than a high school graduate with average grades. She didn’t look at him the way most other adults did: like he was something dangerous, as if he were a cockroach that needed squishing. 

Leo adored JJ. You’d told him this, many times. JJ was more than happy to become a fixture in the young boy’s life. The pair had a secret handshake. JJ would read him bedtime stories when your mom had a night shift, giving you the time to shower in peace before winding down for bed. JJ played monster-truck racing with Leo any chance he got. You once made a half-joke to him. ‘I think Leo might be healing your inner child or something.’ Maybe he was. Maybe JJ was trying to give Leo the life that he never had growing up; full of patience and support and encouragement. He wanted to keep him safe from everything and anyone. He wanted to give Leo the world on a platter and then some. 

“Perfect! We’ll pick you up later then! Love ya!” you chirp through the phone. 

Yes, JJ had melded perfectly into your life in nearly every aspect. The one roadblock? Your best friend, Esme. 

JJ had tried literally. Fucking. Everything. He’d offered her rides back after school. He’d offered her to tag along on dates that he would much rather spend just as you and him. He complimented her, conversed with her - hell, JJ even read a book to have something in common with Esme to talk about. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, Esme very obviously did not like JJ. The best part? This was an unspoken thing. The kind of quiet, simmering hatred that was only detected in the occasional glower and glare, in the odd snide comment, in the vague back-handed compliments. JJ knew enough about girls to know when one didn’t like him, and he had a feeling that Esme didn’t just ‘not like’ JJ. No, he was rather certain that Esme hated him. 

All that to say, he wasn’t about to give up hope. Esme could come along and third-wheel to the kegger if she wanted to. It wasn’t like JJ wanted to be mortal enemies with the girl. You valued Esme as much as you valued JJ, maybe even more. The way you meshed with the Pogues was as sublime as lemon slices in iced tea. You and Pope could sit and talk for hours about books and movies and general, intellectual stuff that JJ tuned out of. You and Kiara would give tarot card readings to one another whilst sharing a joint. You and John B had the same sense of humour, sniggering and laughing like kids. JJ wanted that with Esme. He wanted to be friends with her, the same way you probably wanted him to be friends with her too. That to say, when you walk back into the kitchen, JJ plasters on a smile. 

“She’s coming!” you chirp. JJ makes space between his legs for you to stand between them. His hand rests safely on your sides and your arms loop around his shoulders. 

“Great,” he forces, hoping it sounds elated and not like he’s constipated. “We picking her up, did I hear?”

“Mhm. I just need to change,” you tell him. JJ smiles, the irritation of Esme tagging along fading away. “Can you hang with Leo whilst I shower?”

“Can’t I just shower with you?” JJ asks with a cheeky smile. 

“Mm. Don’t tempt me, blue eyes,” you reply slyly. JJ hand slides tantalisingly down your sides until they're sweeping under your ass. He squeezes gently and tugs you closer, and he can’t help but grin at the way your breath catches. Your fingers sink into his hair as you kiss him deeply. His tongue brushes teasingly against yours, chasing the taste of you. He hums appreciatively at the lingering flavour of fresh tomato juice, palms splaying shamelessly across your butt. You’re breathless as you pull away. JJ fills his time with kissing lightly at your jawline. “We really need’t go upstairs. Don’t want Leo to walk in.”

“You worry too much,” JJ mumbles against your skin, but he silently agrees, slipping his wandering hands back up to your hips. You rest your forehead against his and sigh happily. JJ can’t wipe the smile off his face, it lingers like mist in the night. 

“Hey, JJ,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” 

There’s a beat of quiet and JJ opens his eyes. His smile dwindles at the look on your face: so serious, so contemplative. But before he can ask what’s wrong - what you’re thinking - you’re smiling again and kissing him, wiping his mind clean. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” 

With that, you’re walking back out the kitchen, calling over your shoulder: “I’m gonna get a shower!” 

JJ frowns at the door. That was weird. 

By the time you re-emerge downstairs after your shower - dressed and ready to go - JJ has watched so much children’s television, he wouldn’t be surprised if his brains are leaking out of his ears. Leo is good entertainment: he takes up the main space of the living room floor, dancing around to the theme tunes and dialogue, driving his red truck that JJ fixed in the air. As if on cue, as you make your way down the stairs, the front door opens. 

“Mama!” Leo yells, running to the front door. 

JJ hears the oof your mom lets out from the hallway, likely after Leo has collided with her legs in a hug, and he laughs to himself, shaking his head. You walk into the room and plop down on the couch beside him. You lean your head against him, tapping on your phone as you text Esme. The smell of shampoo and moisturiser and perfume radiate off you and it consumes JJ.

“Mm. you smell good,” he murmurs, staring absentmindedly at your phone screen. 

“Thanks. So do you,” you reply, typing away. 

Your mom wanders into the room with Leo in tow. “Oo, you’re all dressed up. You guys going somewhere?”

“We’re heading out for the night. Is that okay with you?” you check, glancing up at her. She smiles at you and then at JJ, nodding her head. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on, have fun. Be a normal kid, please. It’s a demand.”

“Thanks, mom,” you reply mirthfully. 

“Is it just the two of you?”

“JJ and Y/N, sitting in a tree!” Leo loudly begins to chant, giddy and overexcited. 

“I’m never forgiving you for teaching him that,” you mutter under your breath to JJ. He holds back his laugh. Then, replying to your mom, speaking loudly over Leo’s singing, you say, “we’re meeting JJ’s friends there, and picking up Esme on the way.”

“One of y’all is driving?” JJ nods, raising his hand slightly. “You drinking?” He shakes his head. Smiling, nodding, she says, “good.”

Leo concludes his song with a giggle, clapping his hands happily. 

“A’right, we should probably head out,” you say, pushing up onto your feet. “Told Esme we’ll set off in five.”

“Okay, you two. Stay safe, have fun,” your mom says, heading toward the kitchen. As you venture into the hallway to pull on your sneakers, JJ ducks down to meet Leo’s height. The little boy stares at him, eyes slightly unfocused, a smile lingering on his puppy-fat face. 

“You gonna be good, little man?”

“Mhm,” Leo nods. 

“A’right. Gimme some skin,” JJ murmurs. The two begin their handshake, tapping knuckles and wiggling fingers. With a two finger salute ‘farewell’, JJ’s rising back to his full height and Leo is wandering past and into the hallway. JJ follows to spot you giving Leo a tight embrace, smiling contently. 

“See you later, hon.”

“Bye sissy,” Leo replies, pulling away. He goes to find your mom in the kitchen. JJ intertwines his fingers with yours as he guides the two of you to the door. You look beautiful as you step out into the golden glow of sunset; hair slightly damp, freshly styled, and make-up glossy on your skin. Your glasses frame your face beautifully, eyes twinkling behind the lenses, and JJ is certain that he hasn’t seen anything as pretty as you. 

“You remember Esme’s address, right?” you ask JJ as the two of you walk to his truck. 

“Yep,” he nods, unlocking the truck. The two of you get comfy, settling into weird unspoken routines and rituals: JJ turning the key, starting the engine, whilst you mess with the air conditioning and radio. There’s a sticker that you bought a few weeks ago that’s stuck to the visor: second in command. It was a bit of a gag, considering that you were the one that made most of the plans. The queen of schedules. The drive there is quiet but not uncomfortable. JJ reaches across the centre console and rests his hand on your thigh, thumbing at the thin material of your dress. He can feel his mood dampening as he pulls onto Esme’s street. 

“There she is,” you chirp, pointing at Esme standing on the street side. She’s scrolling on her phone but looks up at the sound of the car. You wave at her and she waves back, eyes zoned in on you and not JJ. She clambers into the back, the smell of her perfume washing out yours - ticking JJ off more. “Hey!”

“Hey,” she brightly returns. 

“Hey Esme,” JJ says, smiling tight-lipped at her in the rear view. She nods at him in brief acknowledgment.

“JJ.”

Whatever, he thinks, checking the mirrors and setting off once more. You turn in your seat and make conversation with Esme, asking about her day, checking in on her studying. 

“I’ve only just started studying for Mr Sunn’s class,” Esme tells you. 

“Really? I’ve been studying since the semester started,” you frown. 

“Girl, that’s because you’re studying all the time,” Esme joshes. 

“What!? I do not study all the time, do I, JJ?”

JJ’s eyes flit up to the rear view mirror, catching sight of Esme’s irritation of him being included in the conversation. He struggles to bite back his smirk from how much it seemingly bothers her. 

“Babe, you do study all the time,” he tells you. 

You gape at him, laughing, “wow. I feel like I’m being ganged up on.”

“This is why I’m telling you that you gotta relax. Don't stress - that's what papa J's here for,” JJ reassures lightly. 

“Yeah. Pretty sure you’re a pro at relaxing, huh, JJ?” Esme asks somewhat rhetorically. You’re oblivious, it seems, to the double-meaning, but JJ isn’t. He catches it clearly in her tone.

Rolling his eyes, he bites his cheek and continues the drive to the beach. He lets you and Esme talk about books and study techniques and gossip about your other friends and peers, half-listening to the conversation (though mostly to you). Finally, he’s parking up at the beach. Dusk has now fallen, the sky a delectable collage of deep purples and blues and blacks, with nothing more than a glimmer of orange that hovers on the far waves of the water in the horizon. It’s already pretty busy at the boneyard. Touron season is mostly over meaning it’s primarily local kids. Thankfully, the Kooks seem to have other plans. Only a small group of them hover on the outskirts of the beach. As the three of you make your way over, JJ’s hand in yours, the music playing from a Bluetooth speaker gets louder, and the smell of beer and seltzers combines perfectly with the sea salt and fresh air. 

“Hey! There he is!” John B calls out. JJ grins, guiding the three of you over. He does a quick handshake-greeting with his best friend. You’re then letting go of him to give John B a hug. “What’re you guys drinking?”

“No drinking for me tonight, amigo. I’m D.D.,” JJ tells him. 

“JJ being responsible? Who would’ve thought we’d see the day?” Kie mutters jokingly into her cup. 

“I know right? Almost as shocking as when we found out he was getting tutored,” Pope kids along. 

Rolling his eyes, JJ slaps his shoulder in a brotherly fashion. “Just admit it, Pope. You’re intimidated by what might happen if I have the brains and the beauty."

“Good thing your girls got the brains and beauty part on lock,” Kiara comments. You smile at that, grateful and flattered, and JJ hooks his arm over your shoulder, tugging you closer to him. 

“You guys remember Esme, right?” you say, gesturing to your friend. 

“Course! She manage to convince you to come to another one of these things?” Kiara asks her. 

“Seems like it,” Esme chuckles, shrugging. JJ fights the urge to roll his eyes; it feels like a reflex reaction to anything she says.

“Hey, why don’t you girls catch up and I’ll grab us some drinks,” JJ offers, untangling from you. You smile at him, nodding. Pointing a finger at you, he checks, “beer?”

“Yes please.”

“You got it,” he grins, walking over to the kegger. John B and Pope follow, leaving the three girls to chat. 

“Yo. What’s that Esme chick doing here again?” John B asks JJ. 

“Beats me, man. Y/N insisted that she comes,” JJ sighs, hands sinking into his short pockets.

“What’s the problem with Esme?” Pope asks, frowning. JJ and John B both give him a look of really, man? 

“Esme hates JJ.”

“What? No way,” Pope replies. 

JJ snorts, grabbing a cup from the stack that leans against the kegger. “I’m tellin’ you, man, that chick wants me dead. And odds are that she’ll be the one to kill me off, too.”

“You find out why she hates your guts yet?” John B wonders. 

“As opposed to all the other reasons most girls hate your guts,” Pope mutters. JJ shoots him a glare and contemplates shooting some of the kegger at him, but refrains. Can’t waste good beer, after all. 

“Nope. Y/N is in happy denial that there’s even an ish.”

“Damn,” John B says, glancing over to the trio across the beach. Cup now full, JJ makes space for John B and Pope to fill up four more. “Look, maybe you could just ask Esme tonight if you get a chance. I mean, you and Y/N ain’t breaking up anytime soon so she’s gonna have to get over it at some point.”

“I mean, I’ll try, man,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of your drink. It’s crisp and refreshing as he swallows. “I wanna get along with her. I know how much Esme means to her. God knows why but, hey, who am I to judge when my best friends are you guys.”

“That’s sweet, JJ,” Pope sarcastically retorts. JJ grins at him. 

His temporary annoyance of Esme’s presence disappears when you press a kiss to his cheek in thanks, taking your drink. Kiara’s in the middle of a story about a seal that she saw on the beach the other day; JJ listens along, his arm wrapped around your waist, and Esme seems to lighten up a bit. She tells a story that even JJ has to admit is pretty funny, and when he adds a joke to the narrative, she laughs. It’s a small victory but he’ll take it. As the night stretches on and the stories continue to be thrown around like a volleyball, you toss back drink after drink. It seems like you’re making up for JJ’s lack of alcohol and drinking for two. 

The drunk alter-ego of you is one of JJ’s favourites. You get silly; loosened up like oil in your joints. You want to dance with him, and tell loud stories, and giggle at just about everything. Considering your tolerance is piss-poor, JJ keeps an eye on you. As you’re animatedly debating the latest character addition to the fantasy series you’ve been reading with Pope, Esme gets up from the driftwood. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” she says. JJ sees his moment and takes it. 

“I’ll come with. Could do with a soda,” he says cordially. She doesn’t look thrilled by his company but doesn’t say anything, walking over to the keggers. JJ easily catches up with her, hands in his pockets. “So…you havin’ a good night?”

“You don’t have to do this, y’know?” Esme says, tone far from friendly. 

JJ frowns, glancing at her. “Do what?”

“Try and make nice with me. Like we’re gonna be friends,” Esme sighs. JJ stops suddenly in the sand, causing her to halt too, a few steps ahead. 

“A’right, what gives?” JJ sighs, dropping the niceties. “I’ve tried fucking everything and you won’t budge.”

“Won’t budge on what?”

“On giving me a Goddamn chance,” JJ replies harshly. 

Esme scoffs, rolling her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “Typical man.”

JJ grinds his jaw. “Look, did I do something to you or some shit? I don’t get what your problem is? Did I steal Y/N from you, is that? Some secret feelings there that I’ve fucking steamrolled?”

“Of course! A heterosexual man’s mind jumping straight to lesbianism. Classic.”

“I swear to fucking God,” JJ mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Esme seems to take pity. She sighs before saying, “look, you really wanna know what my deal is?”

“Please,” JJ replies, meeting her glare once more. 

“I can’t forgive you for what you did.”

JJ feels like he’s in a K-hole. Throwing his arms out, he incredulously asks, “what did I do!?”

Esme laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “Oh my God! Of course you don’t even fucking remember! Classic!”

Before JJ can question her further, she’s planting him with another glower. “Look, she might be willing to forget about it, but I’m never going to forgive you for the way you made her feel. You’re just going to have to suck up the fact that me and you ain’t ever gonna be friends. Sorry, cis white man. Go cry about it on your Reddit page.”

JJ’s bemused, completely and utterly lost in the conversation. Esme seems done with it, finishing the walk to the keggers alone, and JJ doesn’t bother to follow. Instead, he returns to the others, soda-less. Your eyes light up at the sight of him, cutting off your own sentence. 

“Hey!” you grin. You act like he’s been gone for hours. It sure as hell feels like it, JJ thinks to himself. Your arms wrapping around his neck does help brighten his mood though. He finds his smile again. “I missed you.”

“Barely went anywhere,” JJ chuckles, kissing your cheek nonetheless. 

“Don’t care. Want you around all the time. Like a shadow. You remember the shadow lesson? I got you to do that experiment and you got super moody about it?” you ramble, giggling at the foggy memory. JJ chuckles, looking down at you. But then you’re yawning and swaying slightly on your feet, and JJ smoothly glances down to check his watch. 

“We should probably head out soon,” he tells you. 

“M’kay. Whatever you wanna do,” you hum, leaning against him, arms now wrapped around his middle like you’re a koala embracing a tree. 

“Hey guys,” JJ calls out to the others, catching their attention, “I’m gonna take her home. Any chance someone can give Esme a ride back?”

“I can,” Kiara offers happily, tipping her cup at him. 

“Sweet. Thanks,” he replies. He untangles you from his frame, taking your hand in his. “See y’all later.”

“Bye!” you call out, waving farewell as the two of you walk away. JJ glances briefly over to the keggers where Esme is just finishing up. She glares at him once more and JJ has to look away. Her words bounce around his brain, desperate to trigger some memory, but he’s coming up blank. What did he do to you? What is she talking about? 

“Did you have fun?”

JJ comes back to the world and smiles at you. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Did you have fun?”

“Mhm,” you sigh, tossing your head back with a content smile. JJ laughs to himself. “God, why did I wait so long to start drinking?”

“Jus’ waiting for a horrible influence like me, I guess,” JJ replies. You smack lightly at his chest. 

“You’re not a horrible influence,” you mumble. The two of you step onto the tarmac and off the beach. “I think you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

JJ’s heart stammers from the casual gravity of your words. His lips twitch in a dopey smile. 

The ride home is hilarious. You sing along to nearly every song loudly and incredibly out-of-tune, making up lyrics on the spot for those that you’re only half sure of. Your hand stays latched in JJ’s the whole journey. Every now and then, you point at him, egging him on to sing too, and he shakes his head but happily complies. It's hard sometimes to match this version of you to the one he met at the first tutoring session. Pulling into your driveway, JJ is amazed you haven’t exhausted yourself from the concert alone. 

There’s a urgency that JJ knows all too well when you lead him up the pathway, hand in hand. You’re fumbling with the key for so long that JJ does it for you, and just as the two of you have stepped into the threshold of the house, the front door shut, you’re all over him. 

“Woah, woah,” JJ chuckles, searching for your shoulders to try and hold you back. 

“Come onnnn,” you preen, swaying on your feet. “Y’know you wanna.”

“Do I?” JJ snorts. Your mascara has smudged under your eyes and your pupils are dilated. It’s adorable, he has to admit. The picture of you gazing up at him wedges itself in his memory for a rainy day. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop. JJ laughs and tries to shush you. You’re not particularly delicate as you stumble up the staircase. JJ enters your room first, you in tow. As he toes off his shoes, you shut the door. A hand grabbing his t-shirt has him glancing over his shoulder. Your hands plant on his face, pulling his face down to yours, and your lips collide with his in a messy kiss. JJ indulges for a moment, turning to face you, his hand finding your waist. But then you’re deepening the kiss and all what JJ can taste is beer and he’s pulling away. 

“Think we should just g’to sleep,” he tells you gently. 

You roll your eyes, the smile on your face not budging. “Boo,” you deadpan, dropping onto your bed. “Boring.”

“I gotta go pee,” JJ says in a hushed tone. “Don’t choke on your tongue while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try,” you sigh, lying down on top of your comforter. JJ chuckles. He makes his way quietly to the bathroom and flicks on the light. He pees, washes his hands, splashes his face with cold water, and borrows some mouthwash. As he swirls it around his mouth, he studies his reflection. His blonde hair is messy, partly thanks to your wandering hands. There’s a slight stubble building on his jawline that he should deal with sometime this week. The shark tooth necklace that you love to toy with sits atop of his t-shirt. JJ frowns at the thought of you and the conversation with Esme, and once more tries and fails to come to a conclusion as to what she might mean. 

By the time he’s back in your bedroom, you’re half-asleep, curled up in the centre of your bed. He laughs silently, grabbing a make-up wipe from your dresser, and rolls you onto your back. Your arms fan out and you crack an eye open. Your grin gives you away. 

“Take me,” you murmur sardonically. JJ snorts. 

“Sexy. Hard to say no to, for sure.”

“I know right?”

After taking your glasses off and placing them on the bedside table, JJ carefully wipes your face. When he’s confident he’s got most of the make-up gunk off, he tosses the wipe in the trash. Pulling you up by the arms, JJ reaches for the hem of your dress. 

“You want me to change you, or you?”

“You can do it,” you yawn, not bothering to open your eyes. Your head sags tiredly. It’s a quiet but overwhelming trust bestowed upon him by you in that moment. JJ eases your dress from your head and unclips your bra, mostly successful in averting his eyes from your chest. He eases your pyjama top over your head and you hum in approval. You slip off your panties and pull on your matching pants. Fully changed, donned in out-of-season reindeer pyjamas, you crawl into the bedsheets. JJ slips off his shirt and follows after you, flicking off the light as he does. You grab his arm and guide it over your middle; JJ takes the hint and spoons you. 

“You comfy?”

“Mhm.”

“Feel sick?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum ‘no’. JJ kisses the back of your neck through your hair. It smells like you. He feels safe here, like he’s hiding from the world, from his mind, from his memories. It’s an oasis. Your bedroom is a sanctuary where his dad can never go. Nothing matters in these four walls except you and him. “D’you remember?”

“Huh?” JJ whispers, brows tugging together. 

“The quiz,” you slur against your pillow. JJ frowns. 

“Quiz? Baby, what’re you talking ‘bout?”

But you don’t reply. He feels you go limper in his hold, slipping away into sleep. You seem to murmur something else but it’s barely intelligible. JJ’s half-certain you say, “I remember” but he can’t be sure. He just kisses you again, tugs you tighter against his body, moulding you into his hold, and closes his eyes. 

After an hour or so of disturbed sleep - full of twisty, turny dreams that make JJ feel sea sick - he stirs and wakes in the dead of night. Sighing, JJ leans over the edge of the bed and taps blindly around the floor until he finds his phone. 4am. Great. With a grunt, he flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling. His eyes slowly adjust to the darkness like mist clearing from morning, and he zones in on the once glow-in-the-dark stars. They only just shine through the dark room. JJ takes to counting them as if counting sheep, hoping the mundanity will help him drift off, but it doesn’t. Sighing once more, he looks over to his left to be met with your face smushed into the duvet. You must’ve rolled over at some point in the night; you’re nestled into the bedding as if trying to smother yourself. Without your glasses, you look so different. It’s as if you’ve shed a skin. JJ doesn’t realise he’s smiling until he feels it begin to fade, just as Esme’s voice rings in his head like he’s being haunted. “She might be willing to forget about it, but I’m never going to forgive you for how you made her feel.” Pursing his lips, he racks his brain once more, but the sleep makes his mind foggier than usual and he comes up with nothing. 

Feeling antsy, JJ gets out of bed. He sneaks out the bedroom, easing the door shut into its hinges, and slowly makes his way down the staircase. He knows it well enough to remember which floorboards creak. The hallway is dark but he can make out the obstacles well enough from streetlights infiltrating through the windows. Pushing open the kitchen door, rubbing tiredly at his forehead, he freezes. The overhead oven light is on; it casts a dim amber glow into the room, just stronger than a candle. Sat at the kitchen island is your mom. One hand props her jaw up, the other mindlessly fiddles with the corner of a leather-bound folder that she’s reading. At the intrusion, she looks up and meets JJ’s eyes. 

“Uh…I was just, um…” He awkwardly fumbles, gesturing vaguely to the hallway. Your mom just smiles and rolls her eyes. 

“I knew you were here, JJ. I heard the two of you come in - you need to get better at sneaking,” she tells him. Her voice is light-hearted and hushed, careful not to wake the other two upstairs. JJ smiles sheepishly. 

“I can head out–”

“--Don’t be silly,” she replies, waving his offer away with her hand, “you’re welcome here, you know that. ‘Sides, I raised my daughter well enough to trust she won’t wind up pregnant.”

JJ feels his face flame red. He can hear the lie in his voice as he stumbles with an awkward laugh, “oh, uh, we don’t…Y’know…”

Your mom cocks a brow at him in that way only parents can. “Are you about to stand there and lie to me, JJ? Lie to a nurse?”

Pursing his lips, JJ decides to avoid the topic entirely, instead asking, “how come you’re awake?”

She chuckles smally at that. “All these night shifts mess up my sleep schedule.”

“You’re not tired?” JJ wonders, wandering further into the kitchen to take perch opposite her at the island. 

“Course I am,” she laughs quietly. “Thought I’d try the good old fashioned tricks to try and get back to sleep.” With that, she lifts a mug of what smells like warm milk to her mouth and takes a sip. “What’re you doing awake?” She asks after swallowing. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Anything in particular?” JJ shakes his head. “Anything I can help with?” He hesitates, then shakes his head again. Your mom watches him for a moment before nodding, returning her mug to the island. “You want a shock?” she asks. JJ nods. “I like you for my daughter.”

JJ’s smile is a reflex; it’s bashful and flattered and somewhat giddy. “You do?”

“Mhm. I think you’re a good influence on her.”

And that - that is funny. JJ is amazed he holds back his laugh. It’s hilarious, even, and JJ wonders if he’s managed to fall back asleep after all because no parent in their right mind would say that to him. He’s pretty sure that he falls perfectly into a parent’s idea of ‘the worst thing that could happen to my child’. He’s a poster child for failure and bad decisions. At least, that’s what he’s let himself believe. It’s as if the universe is throwing him a bone; after a childhood and adolescence full of shitty adults, it gifts him with two wonderful ones in the span of a year. First Mr Sunn, and now your mom. 

Maybe she can read his disbelief, or hear it echo around the room in his silent laugh, because she’s smiling and chuckling through her nose. She pulls her dressing gown tighter around her, cosy in the fluff. “I can’t imagine what lies you must tell yourself, but you’re a good kid. I don’t think I’ve known anybody be as good to Leo as you, second to my family, of course.”

JJ smiles at the thought of the little boy. Shrugging, he replies, “he’s a good kid. Funny.”

“Stubborn,” your mom adds, making his laugh a little. “It’s not just him though,” she continues, tapping her fingers against the ceramic mug. “You’ve changed my daughter. Made her happier, lighter. Made her a normal teenage girl again.”

His smile turns softer, tender, at the thought of you. Every version of you that he’s had the pleasure to meet: the tutor, the sister, the friend, the caregiver, the daughter, and now, the girlfriend. Somehow, someway, with every side of you revealed to him, JJ only cares for you more. He falls deeper and faster to the point that he’s afraid his bones might break. 

“I know she’s had it rough. She had to grow up fast, as much as I tried to make sure she didn’t, and she places so much pressure on herself to be perfect. But when she’s with you, it’s like all of that fades away and she can just be…well, her,” your mom remarks. 

JJ stares at her. She’s exactly how he pictured a mom to be: shadows below the eyes and laughter lines on the forehead. Inviting and warm like a hot cup of cocoa in a log cabin. Familiar like a song from childhood. “Thank you,” he quietly replies. He’s afraid if he says it any louder, he might start to cry, and that might be his worst nightmare. 

As if understanding this, your mom smiles and nods to herself. She closes the folder up and takes her mug in hand. Stepping down from the stool, she says, “well, I think it’s time I try again at getting some sleep. Help yourself to whatever. Oh, and remember to turn out the lights when you’re done, hm?” 

JJ nods, smiling at her. Tugging her robe tighter once more, her slippers shuffle against the tiles as she heads for the doorway. As she passes, she tells him, “goodnight, JJ.”

“G’night,” JJ mumbles. The room is quiet after she leaves, save for the dripping tap and ticking of the clock on the wall. The light above the oven hums. JJ hears the stairs creak as your mom makes her way up them. Curious, he reaches across the kitchen island for the folder. It’s like an oversized book, with the covers bound in brown leather. When JJ opens it, he quickly realises it’s a photo album. The front page has the number three written in marker. Flicking through the pages, he gets sucked into the story of your life. It’s like an obsession; every image has him craving another. He builds stories behind them; imagines the conversation; pictures the scene behind the camera; hears the shadows of laughter from times passed. 

“Hey.”

JJ cusses and jumps in his seat. His head whips around to the doorway. There you stand, smiling cheekily, dressed in your reindeer pyjamas that are almost too small for you. 

“Hey,” he smiles. 

“What’re you doing up?”

“Could ask you the same thing?” JJ replies as you approach. Exhaling slowly, contently, you lean your head against his shoulder. JJ turns his head to press a kiss to your forehead and you smile. You seem to have significantly sobered up. There’s a minty wash from your breath which tells him you’ve brushed your teeth since waking up. 

“I had to pee and found you missing.”

“Damn. You didn’t call the cops?”

“Was just about to. Thought there was an intruder in the kitchen.”

“Mm. Yeah, I heard a thief was hoverin’ round these parts.”

“Oh God. D’you think he’s cute?” you ask with a gasp, playing along. 

JJ smiles. “Think he prefers the term ‘sexy’.”

“Think he might be delusional, then,” you murmur. JJ’s hand reaches out to squeeze a tickle at your waist. You snort and try to wriggle away. Then the two of you are back to how you were. JJ follows your gaze to the open picture book. “You snooping?”

“Blame your mom. She’s the one that left it out. I’m only human.”

“This is almost as bad as when you read my book,” you tell him. JJ sniggers. He turns a page of the book, impatient to see the next collection of photos.

“Nothing could be as bad as that. Think I still need therapy for the PTSD.”

“Should just take notes, really.”

“Like I need pointers,” JJ is quick to reply. “I know what my girl likes.”

“That you do,” you murmur, nuzzling your face against his neck. The kiss you plant after is sweet and sensual, lingering before your lips pull away. JJ breathes out happily. But just as before, his smile slowly fades. He swallows but the question doesn’t wash away. 

“Hey, babe,” he murmurs. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pressing another kiss to his lower neck. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Course,” you reply. You pull back, resting your head against his shoulder once more, and JJ’s grateful that you don’t stare him down as he musters up the courage. 

“Something kinda happened tonight and I wanted to ask you about it,” JJ tells you. 

You’re quiet for a moment. Your finger reaches out to toy with the page of the photo album. Quietly, you reply, “okay.”

“It’s just…I spoke to Esme tonight, about the whole ‘her not liking me thing’--”

“--JJ, what’re you talking about? Esme totally–”

“-- she literally told me to my face that she doesn’t, a’right? She’s pretty transparent with it,” JJ chuckles. 

Sighing, you nod against him. “A’right, yeah. Esme doesn’t really like you. I wouldn’t take it too personally, though. She doesn’t like most heterosexual cis men.”

Chuckling again, JJ nods. “A’right, noted. But I did ask her why she didn’t like me, y'know, specifically.”

“And?” you wonder. 

“And she said something kinda weird. She said I did something to you? I don’t really know what she was talking ‘bout but she said something about how you might have forgotten, but she’ll never forgive me for how I made you feel,” JJ replies. There’s a feeling of shame that comes with it; it’s prickly and uncomfortable. JJ swallows. “Any idea what she’s talking about?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a strange silence that comes and you fill it by turning the page in the photo album. JJ glances at you and you’re staring blankly at the book, lips pursed, and he sighs. He moves away and swivels in his seat. Bringing a hand to your face, you finally draw your eyes away from the book to meet JJ’s. His thumb strokes at your cheek, obsessed with how soft the peach fuzz of your skin is under the pad of his finger, and you press into his hold just slightly like a leaf sinking into snow. 

“What’s going on? I feel like I’m being left outta something here,” JJ confesses. God, it’s so uncomfortable, feeling this vulnerable. Your eyes flit down to the floor. The sigh you give tells JJ that something is about to come that he won’t like. It’s the type of sigh he imagines a doctor to give before delivering bad news. The type that a police officer lets out before arresting someone that they know. 

“D’you…D’you remember our first interaction?” you ask him, meeting his gaze once more. 

JJ smirks slightly at the memory. “What? When I stopped for take-out and you wanted to kill me?”

You smile too, but it’s small and fleeting, and JJ’s smirk quickly disappears into his frown. “No, not that. Not our first conversation. Our first interaction.”

JJ brows tug together. “I thought that was our first interaction.”

Sighing, you start to pull away. “Look, jus’ forget about it, alright? Esme is just holding a grudge over something that really doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Woah, now, hey,” JJ mumbles, reaching for your hand and pulling you back into the conversation. “It’s clearly something. I don’t wanna be held on trial for somethin’ I ain’t even remember doing.”

You’re visibly uncomfortable, shaking your head, huffing, glancing off to the wall. JJ swallows. He feels antsy, restless, and his foot taps nervously on the bar stool. 

“Fine, a’right. It was in Mrs Hall’s class. You remember her?”

“Mrs Hall?” JJ checks, frowning when you nod. “Maybe…Is she the one that smells like casserole?” 

You snort and JJ’s happy for the slither of humour. “Maybe? She taught English.”

“Yeah. She smelt like casserole.”

You laugh now, shaking your head at him, and JJ grins at the expression on your face, as if you’re in wonder at how his mind works. JJ tugs you slightly closer by your interlocked hands and you comply, squeezing at his palm. The smile becomes a shadow; you take a breath, and then you talk. 

“Okay. In Mrs Hall’s class, like a year ago, we were sat together.”

JJ’s eyes widen. 

“Not together together. Our tables were just next to each other. You were sat to the left of me? You weren’t in that class a whole bunch, so I doubt you even remember. Anyway, we had this quiz one time for Romeo and Juliet. I stressed myself out like crazy for it,” you laugh sadly. JJ squeezes your hand. His throat feels dry. “Leo had three surgeries the week before. Two of them were emergencies. I spent the whole time in the hospital studying next to his bed. I slept in a chair basically every night. I missed so much class that semester, too. Maybe that’s why you don’t remember…”

JJ wishes he could give you an answer, but Mrs Hall is drawing a blank in his mind outside of ‘casserole’. You suddenly struggle to meet his eyes. JJ feels his core clench as if preparing for a punch. 

“Mrs Hall started to hand the quizzes out, marked. She gave you yours first. I’m guessing it didn’t go so hot, cause you seemed pretty ticked off, and she asked for you to stay after class. And then she gave me mine back and I did pretty good. Well, more than pretty good, to be honest. I was the top of the class.”

“Brownnose,” JJ mumbles with a small smile, hoping to tease. But you don’t smile back. He prepares for the punch. A reflex. Your eyes close. Another deep breath. 

“Maybe you were annoyed, or maybe it was something else, I don’t know. But you said something, and some people overheard, and they laughed and…And I don’t know why it upset me so much, but it just did, and I left the room.”

JJ’s frown is deep and his brows are tightly furrowed in confusion. “Wait? I ‘said something’? What did I say? What’d you mean?”

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I really don’t wanna talk about this–”

“--Well, I do,” JJ accidentally snaps. “You just said I upset you. You gotta tell me what I said to you.”

“I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything,” you bite back, frowning at him. 

JJ shakes his head, trying to calm himself. He feels like he’s falling all over again, but this time it isn’t as exciting. It’s terrifying. He doesn’t know where he’s going to land. “A’right, you don’t ‘gotta’ tell me, but I really want you to. Please?”

Your eyes suddenly wash with tears and JJ wants to throw up. His mind races. Why the fuck can’t he remember this fucking class? What the fuck did he say to you?

“God, this is so dumb,” you whisper to yourself. You pull your hand from his to pre-emptively wipe at your eyes and JJ has never crazed your touch more. Staring at the ceiling, you take a breath. “You called me a virgin.”

JJ blinks at you. “I called you a what?”

“A virgin, JJ,” you snap. You meet his gaze and you’re quick to anger. “You called me ‘a fucking virgin’ in front of the class. And people heard, and people laughed, and…and you just didn’t say anything else.”

JJ stares at you. His lips fumble uselessly for words. You shake your head and close your eyes, and just as you’re mumbling something like, this is so fucking stupid, a tear slips down your cheek. And JJ fucking hates that he can’t remember this. It feels like a fever dream; like a blackout nightmare when someone tells you the next morning all the things you did and said, whilst your mind is nothing but white. 

“I…I don’t know what to say,” JJ whispers. “I’m so sorry. I don’t…I can’t fuckin’ believe I said that. I don’t even remember it.”

“Well, I do,” you sniffle. 

JJ eyes press shut. The praise your mom just gave him feels empty now, because if she'd known that he hurt you like that so flippantly, without it even leaving a stain in JJ’s mind, he could only imagine her hurry in seeing him out the door. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he repeats in a murmur. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” JJ snaps. He’s not angry at you. He’s angry at himself; at his past. His carelessness that had now tarnished something so special in his life. “I thought for once in my fuckin’ life I hadn’t managed to fuck something up and now–”

“Hey, woah, woah,” you hurry out. Your hands plant on each side of JJ’s face and JJ wants to cry because you still care. You’re shaking your head. JJ feels his eyes go glossy. You smile at him, small and sweet and reassuring, and fuck I’m going to cry, JJ thinks. “You haven’t fucked anything up, m’kay? This isn’t me breaking up with you, this is just me filling you in on why my best friend might wanna slice your balls off.”

JJ gasps out a laugh and it’s heavy, wet with tears that are going to start falling any second. You’re nodding now, smiling tightly, holding his gaze. 

“You haven’t fucked anything up, a’right? I know you now, JJ. I know you. And I’m sure whatever the fuck it was that made you say that had nothing to do with me, a’right? I’m sure of it.”

“It wasn’t. I don’t know why I’d fuckin’ say that but I promise you that don’t bother me, a’right? Like it’s a fuckin’ childish thing to say anyway.”

You chuckle at that. You nod, agreeing, “it was pretty fuckin’ childish.”

JJ laughs again and sniffs harshly. Your fingers swipe gingerly under his eyes and you collect the tears that have just started to fall. What a scene, the two of you must be. Dishevelled from sleep, standing in a nearly pitch-black kitchen, JJ in an old tee and shorts, you in reindeer pyjamas, crying like idiots. If it were any other circumstances, JJ would ask for a photo. 

“Do you forgive me? Like, I don’t fuckin’ blame you if you don’t, I just…I’m sorry. You gotta believe me when I say that, yeah?”

“You’ve got me, a’right? I forgive you, JJ. Please don’t tear yourself apart over this, a’right? I don’t give a shit about that, now. Esme does because she’s a good friend and she’ll go to hell and back for me. But I don’t give a shit,” you tell him firmly. “I swear to God I don’t care.”

“I do,” JJ whispers. 

“I know you do,” you reply, just as quiet. The kiss you give him is far too short, over too soon: nothing more than a pack. “That’s what makes you a good person.”

JJ shakes his head and you nod yours and the two of you laugh. 

“You are, JJ. Cause if you weren’t - if you were a true, hardcore dick - then you wouldn’t give a shit right now about something that happened over a year ago before we even knew each other,” you tell him. 

JJ shakes his head at you, mouth parted in disbelief. “How the fuck did I get lucky enough to bag you?” You laugh at that, rolling your eyes, but JJ can’t get past it. “I mean, I must have been a fuckin’ saint in my past life or some shit.”

When you step into JJ’s orbit, he’s so relieved it’s nearly palpable. He wants you to devastate his personal space - it’s not like he liked it anyway. Your hands slide up his arms and slowly over his shoulders, and JJ plants his trembling hands on your hips. His fingers press gently into the bones as if he needs the tangible proof that you’re still here. That after he could say something so fucking pathetic, you still want him. 

“For the record, you were wrong,” you say. JJ frowns slightly. You’re smiling, now. It keeps growing by the second. “I wasn’t a virgin. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

JJ scoffs. “Bubble not burst, don’t stress.”

“If you want some good news, you outrank him by, like, miles.”

JJ can’t help the smug grin that comes with that comment. “I do?”

You nod, smiling slyly, leaning closer. JJ can smell your perfume and the lingering scent of the laundry detergent from your bedsheets. It’s intoxicating. He tugs you closer by an inch. The cotton of your pyjama pants are soft and scratchy. 

“It was some random guy from Model U.N.”

“Which country? Switzerland?”

You giggle. “Russia.”

“Russia? Damn, if this was cold-war times then you could’ve been arrested for that,” JJ jokes. You laugh and it’s the best sound in the Goddamn world. He’s falling again, slipping, quick, and he feels like he knows where he’s heading now. “Y’know why he sucked?”

“Why’s that?”

“He weren’t French. You know those guys are freaky as fuck.”

You’re giggling, bumping your forehead against his, and JJ is sniggering too, and everything washes away as the tears finally stop falling from either of your eyes. Then, as if sharing a thought, the laughter dies down, and the moment settles into a simmering heat, and the two of you are standing so close, you’re nearly one. Your arms tighten by a hair around JJ’s shoulders. He stares up at you and you down at him, and he knows it. He’s known it for a while. Your smile flickers - comes and goes like a dying lightbulb - from the nerves, and JJ feels like he’s a mirror. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

JJ lets out a sharp breath. He swallows the fear, the self-doubt, and he tries not to cry for the second time that night. “I love you too.”

“You do?”

Laughing, he shakes his head ever so slightly. “You wanna know somethin’? From the minute you called me ‘blue eyes’, I was done for.”

You giggle, bashful, giddy, and JJ feels like he gets it now. He gets why Romeo and Juliet did the stupid things they did, all in the name of love, desperate to be together. He understands why people lost their minds and fought the wars. He understands why there’s so many songs, so many poems, movies, books, fucking greeting cards about the damn thing. It isn’t just one thing - it never is. It’s the way you sleep nuzzled in your sheets. It’s the divots your glasses leave permanently on the contour of your nose. It’s your laugh when JJ tells you another corny dad-joke. It’s the books you read when JJ’s fishing. It’s the sounds you make when JJ makes you come. It’s the patience you have with Leo. It’s the abomination that is the pasta you cook in the microwave when you’re hungover. It’s the way you kiss him when you’re high, and the way you kiss him when you’re not. All of it, every version of you, every piece and part that makes up the puzzle of your life: JJ is in love with all of it. 

His lips press to yours desperately, like he needs to tell you all of this and more. You hum deeply, pressing back against him, fingers quick to reach for his hair. JJ’s hands grasp at your body, tugging you in, reeling you nearer until you’re practically falling against him. 

“Fuck,” you whisper in the brief pause of the kiss. JJ grunts, kissing you back harder, deeper, and you’re whining into his mouth. The tips of your nails scratch tantalisingly at his scalp. One of your hands slips down until it’s on his thigh, searching for purchase. JJ feels like every nerve ending is lit up with electricity. He needs you closer, deeper, more more more. The taste of you; the wetness of your tongue; lips slick with spit. JJ wants it all.

His hands hook under your thighs and he picks you up. You let out a squeak, breaking apart, as JJ lifts you up and onto his lap. You giggle into the kiss, reconnecting your mouth with his, and JJ grins. 

“We should really go upstairs,” you tell him between kisses. 

“Fuck that,” JJ replies, making you laugh. He shushes you, chuckling too, and you pull away and place the back of your hand to your lips as if to stifle them. JJ brushes some hair off your face and smiles at you. He’s so turned on and so in love and he gets it now. “I love your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, smiling coyly, rubbing your lips together. JJ swipes his tongue over his own, savouring your taste. You stroke his cheek as your hand descends down his body. It follows the curve of his neck, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, before it slips into the waistband of his shorts. He lets out a sigh, relieved and desperate for more all at once, as your hand wraps around him. Your eyes twinkle with your smile: teasing, shameless. He grows harder and harder with each gentle rub, your fingers delicate around his length. He starts to breathe heavier, small pants and gasps, trying to hold his head up. Your teeth sink into your lower lip. 

“Feels good?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, eyes slipping shut. There’s the rustle of your clothes as you lean forward, and then there’s the wet feel of your mouth on the thin skin of his neck, kissing and suckling. JJ moans loudly and you pull away, slapping a hand over your mouth. 

“Shhh!” you giggle. JJ laughs against your hand, cutting himself off with a moan, and you giggle harder. Your breath is hot and downright erotic when you whisper into JJ’s ear, “you gotta be quiet. Don’t wanna get caught, d'you?"

JJ pulls away from your hand and sniggers, chasing your lips. “You’re fucking evil,” he murmurs before kissing you again. You hum appreciatively into the kiss, hooking an arm over his shoulders for stability, and you jack him off faster. JJ’s head drops against your shoulder and he pants heavily. He can feel it building, the edge inching closer, and he’s trying so fucking hard to be quiet. 

“Don’t wanna come yet,” he mumbles, trying and failing to kiss you. “I wanna come in you.”

“M’kay,” you breathe, pulling your hand away. Despite his words, he whines at the loss of your touch, and you’re giggling again like all of this is just so Goddamn funny, and he’s chuckling too. 

“Get on the counter,” he says before kissing at your neck. You nod, eager, and JJ chuckles as you free your hand and grab the edge of the counter to your side. Once perched (photo album shoved carefully to the side, out of the way), JJ stands up, pushing the stool back, and plants a hand either side of your legs. He kisses you like you’re the only air in the room and he’s suffocating. Your hands paw at him, clawing at his skin, holding him close. Moaning and whining into his mouth, quiet but not shy. “I fucking love you.”

“Love you too,” you gasp. His fingers hook into the waistband of your reindeer pyjama pants and JJ can’t help but chuckle. 

“These fuckin’ things.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, they’re sexy,” JJ tells you in a hushed tone. It’s all giggles and humour as JJ tugs them down, you wiggling ungainly to help get them free. “Fuckin’ better than all that ling-e-rie crab.”

“It’s pronounced lon-zhuh-ray,” you correct. 

“Remember our rule? No big words?”

“It’s not a big word, just a French one,” you tell him, lightly kicking your feet to help get them off as JJ pulls, now on his knees. 

“Whatever. They’re banned too,” JJ grins. He tosses the old, worn-out pyjama trousers to the side. His palms slide up the inside of your legs, easing them apart with a gentle push, and you’re leaning back on the counter on your hands, breathing heavily in anticipation. JJ pushes up onto his knees and glances up at you; you’re watching him through hooded eyes, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, teeth gnawing at your lower lip, and weirdly JJ wishes you were wearing your glasses. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh and smirks at the sound of your breath catching. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

One of your hands sinks into his hair. JJ takes your silent command. The first taste is exiguous - he goes down on you like a man fucking starved. Your own advice on being quiet proves difficult. You’re a whining, writhing mess, gasping out his name in stuttered breaths, fingers tugging and pulling at his locks, nails scratching at his head. JJ moans, the taste of you heady on his tongue, and his hands grip your thighs mean to keep them open, needing something to ground himself with, and it’s so fucking good. 

“Fuck, Jay,” you gasp, thighs flinching. He hums appreciatively, suckling at your clit, and your legs hook around his shoulders, holding him near. “Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Your words become mush, an incoherent jumble as you chase your high, hips buckling off the counter, and JJ refuses to relent until you’re coming with a mewl, only just on the brink of being too loud.  

“That’s it,” JJ murmurs, savouring every last drop. “That’s it, baby.”

“God,” you sigh. 

You flop onto your back, laughing breathlessly, and JJ leans back, wiping his grinning mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes glance between your legs, watching a droplet of your wet slip down the inside of your thigh, and he has to have you now or else he won’t last. Everything is a blur of clothes being shed - murmurs of come here and gotta fuck you - and JJ has never been more grateful for the pill. When he fucks you, it’s fast and desperate and somehow loving all at once: a strange erotic mess as the two of you chase your release. You're barely balancing on the edge of the counter, legs wrapped tightly around him, arms wound around his shoulders like a viper. His lips are searching, alternating between your collarbones and tits - your pyjama top discarded. You struggle to keep quiet, biting into the skin of his shoulder, making JJ groan into the flesh of your chest, and it follows that strange dance and pattern until JJ’s gasping, “M’fuckin’ close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

“I’m close, I’m close,” you whimper, kissing at his neck as if that’s going to make it easier to hold out. Then you’re holding him close, head tilting back, and JJ knows you’re about to come. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, right there, right there, Jay. Yes.”

He falls over the edge the second you clench around him, grunting against your clammy skin. The two of you rise and fall together, breathing heavily, heads foggy, and JJ feels like he returns to earth when you gently stroke his cheek, easing him away from your body. He finds your lips easily like following a route home. You sigh against his mouth and he can taste your smile; it mirrors his own. 

“I love you,” you whisper. You could say it forever, everyday, every second, and JJ doesn’t think he could ever get sick of it. He pulls away and opens his eyes into yours. You're smiling at him, admiring him like he’s the rarest thing on earth, and he shakes his head in disbelief that this is his life now. That he gets this, and he gets you, all because of some tutoring sessions.

“I love you too,” he whispers back. Then, unable to help himself, he asks, “Still better than Model U.N. guy?”

You bark out a laugh, stifling it in his neck, and JJ chuckles. “Mhm. Much better.”

“Good. I gotta beat Russia - that’s, like, my duty as an American.”

Before you can make another joking retort, the sound of a bedroom door creaking open upstairs has the pair of you freezing. The two of you stand as still as statues, waiting in laboured breath, listening. 

“Sissy?” Leo’s sleepy voice calls out from upstairs. 

You meet JJ’s wide eyes with your own. 

“Get dressed.”

---

taglist (let me know if you would like to be added): @highformaybank |

[satorus-princess]

Oh, My Good Looking Boy

a/n: set in a modern au (because canon is traumatic), just some fluff hehe

the first time you saw him was in the hallway of your high school, a bag slung over one of his shoulders as he spoke to a long-haired boy. despite the busyness of the hallway, he managed to catch your attention through the crowd - his cerulean eyes that shimmered beautifully even from a distance, his sandy hair that bounced around his face as he walked, and his cheerful smile as he spoke to his assumed friend.

he and his friend ended up walking past you and he noticed your gaze on him, beaming a smile your way before he continued the conversation with his friend. you blinked a few times, wondering if that smile was directed towards you or the wall behind you.

the second time you saw him was when you walked into your homeroom. he was leaning against a table near the windows. with his back towards the window, the sun created a heavenly backdrop for him as it blazed through like a spotlight on him. you felt like you were caught in a trance, staring at a scene painted before you.

this time, he was talking to a girl with dark hair who seemed unamused while he was barking out a laugh. after a glance at them, you took a seat on the other side of the room, closer to the front. you couldn't see him anymore, but you could hear him. his voice was teasing, interrupting himself with his own laughs as he seemed to be entertaining himself.

once the teacher entered, he quietened down with the occasional whispers. he stayed near the window as he took a seat, taking out his things for class. he found his gaze drifting to the back of your head, recognising you from the hallway.

the third time you saw him, you were getting your bicycle at the end of the day to go back home. he was waiting near the entrance of the school, typing away on his phone as he stood there, cherry blossom petals descending around him, almost in slow motion. the warm, golden sun filtered through the white strands of his hair and made his eyes look even more ethereal than usual.

he looked up and caught sight of you and gave you the same smile that he had given earlier in the hall. you gave a polite smile back before focusing on stuffing your bag into the basket of your bike. as you straddled the seat of your bike, ready to go home, you heard footsteps approach you.

“hey,” the same voice you had heard earlier in the classroom says. this time, it was softer and less teasing.

you turned your head to the left to see him standing a short distance away from you. “hi,” you replied. you seemed to be confused as to why he was talking to you.

“you're in my class, aren't you?” he asked. without waiting for an answer, he continues. “i'm Gojo.”

“yeah, we're in the same class. i'm (y/n)... did you need anything?”

“not really, just wanted to say ‘hi’ to a cute classmate," he said with a cheeky smile. the long-haired friend from earlier called his name and gojo turned to the sound before looking back at you. "ah, well, it's nice meeting you, (y/n). i'll see you around, yeah?”

you simply nod in response, your chest feeling warm and fuzzy while you feel awkward when his eyes lock with yours. “yeah. have a good day, Gojo.”

the way his name rolled off your tongue so sweetly made his smile widen as he watched you cycle away, the golden sun beaming down on you. an angel, he thought to himself.

now, his head rests on your chest while he scrolls on his phone and you play with his soft locks. you run your fingers through his hair and twirl a bunch of strands around your finger. this makes him hum contently. he glances up at you to see your dreamy gaze as you stare into space, a smirk forming on his lips.

“what's that look for, hm?” he asks teasingly, leaning up to peck your nose playfully before resting his head back onto your chest.

you blink out of your trance at his words and playful kiss. looking down at him, you smile.

“i'm thinking about when we first met. the me seven years ago wouldn't have thought that she'd end up here with you, like this,” you muse softly.

his smirk softens into a tender grin and he props himself up on his elbow to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “mm, i remember the you seven years ago. all shy and awkward. now, she bites me,” he laughs. you laugh with him, kissing him back.

“she just can't get enough of her pretty boy.”

[writerspirit]

Classroom Visit

Pairing(s): Ava Coleman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Things get spicy on school grounds.

Themes/Warnings: 18+, smut, semi-public sex, dom!Ava (is she really a top??), sub!reader

A/N: This has been sitting in a google doc for a few months. Ava deserves more love in the fanfic world. I said what I said!

WC: ~ 1.82k

Taglist: @schemmentigfs @fandominstability

“Ava,” you say as you walk into Ava’s office. “Good morning.”

Ava groans. “What do you want?” She stands up from behind her desk and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Do you really want to be giving me attitude right now?”

“I don’t give attitude, Y/n. As a matter of fact, I keep my composure. What is it that you want?”

“If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll end up sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Ava raises her eyebrow, as the corner of her lips quirks upwards into a smirk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What that means is that your girlfriend doesn’t play. So, if you want that good lovin’ tonight, you better recognize.”

Ava’s smirk grows into a smile as she takes a seat. She leans back into her office chair, putting her hands behind her head. She blushes as she realizes you aren’t kidding. “So I take it you want to come home to me tonight?”

“I didn’t expect to go to my place tonight. And…,” you lower your voice. “Maybe I’ll show up in something sexy for you.”

Ava licks her lips nervously, as a smile once again spreads across her face. She nods slowly, her chest rising as her breath slows in rhythm. She crosses her legs before quickly uncrossing them. “I like the sound of that.”

You start to walk out before turning back to look at her. “Babe?”

She crooks her head to the side a bit, raising an eyebrow while looking directly into your eyes. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you come visit me in my classroom while my kids are at recess?”

Ava’s smile changes to a smirk as her mouth waters a bit. Just the thought alone got her to blush. “I think I’ll do that.”

You smile, knowing what Ava’s thinking about. “Okay. Until then.”

“Ciao, boo.”

— — — —

It’s just before the fourth period. Only one more period to go. You grow impatient, as your thoughts are flooded with Ava’s hands all over your body. This is a frequent occurrence that has been happening since the start of the school year, a pinch over five months ago.

You quietly thank yourself as you scroll through photos of you and Ava in bed together. You remind your students every few minutes that their test period is almost over. During your scrolling, you land on a video Ava took from your phone. One you’d know Ava would love to have in her camera roll. So, with the click of two buttons, the notification appears on her phone.

Babygirl 💋: 1 Video

“Hm, she better not be gettin’ on me again about some attitude this morning.” She looks into the camera before looking back at her phone. “Teachers not teach–” Ava’s sentence gets caught in her throat as she sees the video’s image before pressing it.

It’s from the point of view of your dresser, where your phone is perched from. You were laid on your bed. Ava was buried in between your legs, her hands holding them apart as you tried so desperately to squeeze them together. Your hands were glued to your breasts, pulling at your nipples.

Before she could gather any peeks from camera crew members, she quickly gathers herself, yelling at them to leave her office.

Before she watches the video thoroughly, she closes the blinds to her office and makes sure to close her door. “Sneaky girl,” she mumbles to herself.

— — — —

You smile as your students empty from the classroom. That’s when you get a notification on your phone. You look at your lock screen. Sure enough, it’s from Ava. You can’t help but chuckle, anticipating what she replied with.

Ava-lade ❤️: You thought you could sneak something like that during school hours? Sneaky girl.

There’s no time to reply as your focus is taken from your phone with the closing of your classroom door.

“Hey babe. I would’ve thought I would go to your office. I didn’t think you were actually coming to see me.”

She doesn’t reply, but rather adds to her actions with the locking of your door. She leans against the door and waits for you. “Oh, but I did.” She starts to saunter over to you, her eyes taking in every inch of you from your outfit to your body to your face. “I couldn’t deny myself this beautiful sight.” She reaches you, placing her hands on your hips and staring down into your eyes. “Especially after the video you sent me earlier. What, you thought I would just let that slide?”

You love it when Ava gets like this: authoritative. You snake your arms up hers, resting them around her neck. “I wanted you to be excited to see me.” Not even you would believe yourself if you were in Ava’s shoes.

Her hands pull you closer to her, now bodies touching. She leans down and places a kiss on your neck, to which you quietly moan. “Sit down,” she lowly says. “We’re going to watch the video together.”

She sits on your chair, and pulls you onto her lap, facing your desk. Her hands snake around your waist, holding you still. “Now, get it open and press play.” She says, her voice never shifting from her seductive tone.

You obey, opening your camera roll, and scrolling until you get to the video. Ava doesn’t take her eyes off your phone, seeing with you the other naughty pictures you two have taken. She quietly smirks at the memories playing in her head. You press play.

Your moans fill the room as the video’s volume is high. You go to lower it, when Ava grabs your wrist. “No. I want to hear you like that.”

“But someone could hear.”

“And if they have any complaints, they can come to the principal.” She smirks. Her fingers gently pull your attention back to the video, which you make sure to focus on.

Your hands grip the sheets as Ava finds her way to your entrance. Your memory along with watching the video together brings a pool to your panties.

You squirm on Ava’s lap as your loud moans are accompanied by hers now. One of Ava’s hands moves from your waist to your thigh. This makes you needier than before. Ava breaks from your center for a moment. “Not yet, baby. I’ll tell you when.” She resumes attacking your folds, only this time she enters a finger. You gasp at the contact.

Ava breaks eye contact with your phone and looks at you. Or rather, at your reaction as you shudder at her again. She moves your hair from your neck and places a kiss there. Her hand moves from your thigh to your center. She slowly unbuttons your pants and slips herself into them. You try to squirm away, but her other arm holds you in place. She leans into your ear. “Get on my thigh,” she mumbles.

You do as she says and shift to her thigh. Without warning, she bounces her thigh into you, applying pressure on your clit. Your moan gets muffled by Ava’s fingers that enter your mouth. “Suck them, baby.”

You moan as your tongue laps her digits. Ava’s eyes shut in pleasure as you start to suck on them. With the echoing of your pleasured moans and your mouth working on her fingers, Ava’s mind races with impatience. She lets out a moan of her own, which always lets you know she’s ready for you. You can’t help but smile against her fingers, as you love getting her as needy for you as you are for her. Seeing nothing but lust, Ava’s sinful eyes meet yours.

You release her digits with a pop. As if your role in the school was relinquished, she became the teacher. Inspecting her fingers, she smiles at the saliva running down them. Ava places a soft kiss to your neck before going further. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. Your eyes closed as you try focusing on your need for pleasure. “Please.”

You gasp at the sudden fullness you feel from her fingers plunging into you. Her pace slow and deliberate, you can’t help but whine at the torture. Ava’s smug grin lets you know that she intends on taking her time with you.

“Faster… please, Ava.”

“Shh, my girl needs to be disciplined for her unprofessional behavior.”

“I—I thought you’d like the video.”

“Oh, I do. But sending your boss a salacious video during school hours…” she sucks her teeth. “I’m doing you a favor, Y/n. If not me, then who knows what kind of trouble you’d be in.”

She adds another finger, earning a loud groan from you. “Too much… I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, baby. Let me play a little more.” Her thumb finds your clit, applying the needed pressure for you to go over the edge. Another gasp sends shivers down Ava’s spine. She starts circling her thumb, driving your attention farther away from the video still playing.

Ava notices and softly shushes you. “You can’t be too loud, Miss Y/l/n. We’re not at home.”

“Ava, please,” you breathe out. “Let… me…”

“Cum,” her tone is sharp. Commanding.

Unbeknownst to you, as you’ve completely spaced out from the video playing, your highs come in sync. Ava softly pulls her fingers out of you, earning a groan from you. A gentle kiss lands on your neck.

“So good, Y/n.”

“Fingers,” you mumble.

She smirks, feeling proud of your directness. Not commanding, as she. But… delicate. Soft, almost shy. She brings her juice-lathered fingers to your mouth. Almost immediately, your lips wrap around her digits once again.

Ava’s eyes lock onto your face, as though you were a portrait trapped in the frame of her eyes. The video ends abruptly, leaving the only noises in the room the ones your tongue makes sucking up your remnants.

You break from her hand, leaving a loud pop as you finish. You quickly glance at the clock that’s nailed to the wall. “I have to start prepping for the afternoon classes.”

“Of course. I’ll be here again after the second bell of dismissal.” Ava taps your hip twice, telling you to get up.

You fix yourself as much as you can, leaving no hint of your activities. “I’m good,” you say. “Do I look like I was just taken by the principal?”

Ava chuckles. She gets up from your chair, fixing herself as well. Her hands find either of her cheeks, holding you softly in her touch. “You look beautiful,” her voice softens with a smile. Her lips find yours for a peck.

She lets go of your face. Her attention draws to your desk. More specifically, your phone. “Make sure to exit out of the video before your students start getting in here.”

“Yes, Principal Coleman.” You smile as she catches your sensual tone.

[365emotionlessfaces]

@schemmentits

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 8 WC:~1.9k

When lunchtime came, Melissa was glad to see she had made it to the break room before you. She took the opportunity to warm up your food for you, knowing she’d get to see your smile again. After the morning she had with her little eagles, she would be considering retiring to the Bahamas, except you were here.

She had just sat down with her own plate of food when you came through the door. Melissa could tell the exact moment you smelled the food on the table, as you broke out into a huge grin and made a beeline for the table. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach. That happened all the time with you, so she was getting good at ignoring them. Melissa let you take a few bites before she asked about your plans for the Franklin Institute. She dug into her ziti, as both you and Barb took your turns excitedly chatting about your plans for the night. Of course, Melissa took her turn, telling her friends the parts she was looking forward to most.

Just as Melissa finished, Jacob came running in the door, clinging to a piece of paper like it had just saved him from drowning in the Delaware. Janine piped up from the couch. Melissa hadn’t even seen her come in.

“What’s that?”

When he revealed that he was holding an invitation to the Aspiring Teachers Program, Melissa felt her entire body tense up. It had been years since she had attended, but Barb was the only other teacher Melissa had heard talk about the Program throughout that entire time. Apparently, Barb hadn’t heard about it much either because she seemed surprised that the Program was still running.

“I did that once. Worst week of my life,” Melissa thought back to her week in the Program. She thought about that week more than she liked to. Was this a sign she shouldn’t let go of Parent Trap? As Melissa was replaying that night in her mind, the night she broke two hearts, she heard you say that you had been in the Program, and that it had actually done what it was supposed to and inspired her to teach. ‘Lucky for her,’ Melissa thought, genuinely happy that you had a good experience.

Jacob mentioned that it was in Boston this year, and then revealed that he hadn’t read the entire paper by exclaiming confidently, “I’ve never been to Boston in the fall.” Melissa smirked as you corrected him about what time of year it took place in. When he had actually read the paper, he said something about a great opportunity for diversity, and Melissa just rolled her eyes.

Janine piped up again, looking directly at you, “Wait, isn’t that where you met that-”

Poor girl didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you interrupted. “Wonderful teacher who inspired me to follow my dream of inspiring children to learn? Yep, that’s the place!”

Yeah, because that wasn’t suspicious. Melissa gave you an inquisitive look, and she noticed that Barb was giving you a similar one. She also noticed that you didn’t notice either of them because you were too busy having a conversation with Janine through your eyes.

She and Barb decided not to press the issue, so the room turned to discussions of the rest of the day, field trip included. The rest of lunch flew by, and before Melissa knew it, it was time to teach once again.

“This was the best tasting ziti I’ve had in my entire life! You just keep getting better!” Melissa loved when you complimented her food. It made her weak in the knees. Good thing she was still sitting down.

“You say that every time. I think you lying,” Melissa turned to see Mr. Johnson, who had just finished pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Nope, Mr. J, she just keeps outdoing herself,” you replied to the janitor. Melissa found it extremely difficult to ignore the butterflies anymore, and she couldn’t help the blush rising to her face.

Melissa fought the urge to just tell you how she felt right then and there. Instead, she just smiled and managed to say, “Thanks, hon.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t lie about something so important.” Melissa’s smile broke into an all out cheesy grin. Whether or not you were joking, the idea that anything Melissa did was important to you made her feel all bubbly inside, and she just couldn’t help the big ol’ grin on her face. She watched as you finished cleaning up your spot at the table, and said goodbye to everyone. The redhead’s smile lasted long after she had returned to her classroom for the day.

Melissa didn’t see you again until everyone was boarding the buses. She was so busy getting a headcount that she had forgotten to try and get the seat next to you. By the time she was sure she had all of her little eagles accounted for, you were already sitting with a student. Melissa thought she might be able to sit at least in your vicinity, but one glance showed no available seats except the very front row.

Melissa watched as you talked animatedly with Janine and the students beside you, and took her seat. She attempted to read some of the book she had stashed in her purse, but it proved to be a fruitless labor. The children surrounding her interrupted every other sentence. After a whole three minutes of that, Melissa put the book away and decided to just entertain the children.

The Institute was as fun as Melissa remembered. She’s always down to learn something new about her hometown, okay, just not from some clown who’s not even from Philly. The girl was from New York, for Christ’s sake! Melissa was so frustrated by the fact that this girl from New York was the volunteer guide-‘they’re gettin’ what they paid for, if ya ask me’- that she was focusing like a hawk, paying attention to every word that came out of the girl’s mouth, waiting for her to slip up so she could prove she’s a big phony.

Despite Melissa being so zeroed in with the guide all day, she made sure she was never far enough away from you that she couldn’t see you. She looked over to where you had already laid down your blankets and saw a few children trying to lay practically right on top of you. They were surrounding you, each one trying to get closer than the last it seemed. Sleeping bag in hand, Melissa made her way to you, and when she got close enough, she heard a child whine, “But I wanna sleep next to her!”

She took her opportunity. “Jokes on youse guys. I get that spot,” she said, shooing the children so they would make room. She tossed her sleeping bag on the floor and glanced at you. You had turned to hug a kid who was crying because he couldn’t sleep right beside you. Melissa couldn’t help smiling at how sweet you always were with the kids.

She laid down, laying on her side to face you, and propped her head up in her hand. After you had mirrored her, facing her and propping your own head up, Melissa had to tell you all about the New York girl trying to teach her something about Philly, to which you just smiled at her, before sharing your own excitement from the day. She loved how your eyes shined when you talked about things that excited you, and she couldn’t help but give you a big smile of her own as she listened to you talk.

She was ready to kill the alien that tore her away from you.

A kid had screamed loudly, claiming an alien was here, and the rest of the kids went berserk. Melissa had never seen a group of children disperse so quickly, especially not a group of this size, so she shot up and immediately began trying to reign some of the little humans in. It took almost a half hour, but with all of the teachers from Abbott working together, they got the kids resettled. Melissa thought things were returning to normal, when Gregory came rushing up to you, admitting that he couldn’t find one of his students.

This wasn’t Melissa or Barb’s first rodeo- although it was the first time Barb had been compared to an alien- so they took charge of the situation. They split everyone into pairs, except for Ava who went off to get her eleven hours of sleep, and sent them to different floors to cover the entire Institute. Barb and Melissa went downstairs to search, leaving the younger teachers to search the upper floors.

Barb seemed to think it was the proper time to bug Melissa with more questions about her love life. “You know you can’t have them both, right?” The woman had started.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Melissa already knew what Barb meant, but she’d be damned if she gave in to Barb so easily.

“You know exactly what I am talking about. That girl upstairs and the girl from Chicago,” Barb pushed.

“She's not from- Look, I know,” Melissa sighed. “I thought I was ready to- I thought I could move on, but then Jacob this mornin’ with the paper from the Program. What if it was a sign that I shouldn’t let her go?”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you are my dearest friend, and because of that I cannot lie to you. Let. Her. Go. You didn’t even tell the young girl your name, and I’ve only ever heard you refer to her as Parent Trap. Do you even remember her name? How would you know if you found her? You think she carries around your stuffed toy everywhere she goes, on the off chance that she’ll see you, recognize you after all these years, and leap into your arms to ride off into the sunset together?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Melissa couldn’t look the other woman in the eye. She knew that holding out hope that the young girl would waltz right back into her life one day was fruitless. Some fever dream, but God did she want it so bad.

Then there was you. The woman who took Melissa’s life and flipped it on its head. The woman who had been right by her side for the last two years. The woman who made Melissa smile so much that she might start losing her rough and tough reputation.

Melissa knew what she had to do. She and Barb finished checking all the rooms, and once they confirmed Jamir wasn’t on the first floor, they made their way back to their fellow teachers. As they walked down the hall towards the group, Melissa quietly admitted to Barb some of the thoughts going on in her head, and the plan to tell you how she felt about you.

As they approached, Melissa’s eyes were glued to you until she felt Barb’s hand suddenly grab her wrist. She looked up to see Barb more shocked than Melissa had ever seen the woman. It was like Jesus had appeared in the hall of the Franklin Institute. When Melissa followed her friend’s line of sight, her uninhibited hand flew to clutch Barb’s upper arm.

“Is that-” Barb asked as quietly as she could.

“Ronny,” Melissa whispered, not necessarily in response, more so in shock, but she had answered Barb’s question, nonetheless.

Part Nine

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story - Epilogue

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 45

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescvntyclubgf @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @songbirdmunson @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @losingmygrasponreality

@mediocredreams @bloodibambiidoll @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, mentions of smut, fluff, happy endings for everyone!

Word Count: 2.5k

divider by @strangergraphics

Epilogue: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Two years later, September 3rd, 1992...

"You ready for your first day, love?" Eddie asks from the kitchen. He's packing lunches for the two of you, which consists of sandwiches, apples, and homemade cookies.

"Almost, I can't seem to find my special bag." You call to him, sounding rather frustrated as you search the apartment. Mom bought you a gorgeous leather bag to carry your teaching materials in, with 'Mrs. Munson' etched onto the strap in elegant script. You've been looking forward to using it, now that you've gotten your license to teach and are finally taking over all Hawkins High science classes. It's officially the first day of the 1992-1993 school year, and you've misplaced the one thing that'll keep you from losing your head today. 

"Hold on, I'll help ya find it." Eddie replies as he finishes up, closing the lunch boxes once everything is placed inside nicely. He brings them to the living room, finding you bent over the couch as you search behind it. If you weren't in such a hurry, he'd have a mind to smack that perfectly plump ass of yours. It's looking particularly slapable in the long denim skirt you're wearing today. He bites his lip as he holds himself off, calmly walking up to you to help you out. "Any luck?" He asks softly, putting a gentle hand on your back.

"Nope." You sigh, turning around and plopping onto the sofa. "I can't believe it. My first day, and I've already lost everything I need to go to work." You scoff at yourself, unable to feel like anything but a failure in this moment. You've been making yourself sick the last couple of weeks, stressing over every little thing. 'What if the kids don't like me?' 'What if the kids don't listen to me?' 'What if I make a fool of myself?' 'What if none of the other teachers take me seriously?' These are all the questions that have been swirling inside your mind, as well as verbalized to Eddie on countless occasions. All of which have earned endless reassurances that you can, and will, be a great teacher. But right now, that concept doesn't ring true for you at all.

"Y/N, I'm sure it's here somewhere." Eddie replies kindly, checking his watch. You still have a half-hour before you need to be at the school to set up. "We've got time. Lemme take a look, fresh eyes and all that." He says, leaving you sulking as he walks down the hall. He checks the bedroom, and the closet. Nada. He doubles back to the kitchen, even opening up the fridge in case your brain got scattered. Nope. Lastly, he checks the bathroom, where you spent a good hour smoothing down your clothes, fixing your hair, and making sure your makeup wasn't 'too whorish'. He finds your leather bag resting on the counter by the sink, he lets out a relieved breath and grins. He brings it back to you, though your head is currently resting shamefully in your hands. "Sweetheart?" He asks, prompting you to look up at him.

Your eyes meet his, before falling onto the blasted bag. "Where the hell was it?" You ask, sure you had checked everywhere, like, ten times. 

"Bathroom." He replies simply.

"Oh, figures. That's the last place I'd look." You giggle, taking the bag from him. "Thanks, baby. You always know how to keep me sane." You stand up, giving him a small peck. "We'd better get going, I wanna get there early." You say.

"Aren't you already getting there early?" Eddie asks, confused.

"For normal people, yes. But, I need to make sure everything is extra perfect." You say matter-of-factly, though you're absolutely beaming in the eyes. You're exceptionally anxious about today, but you're also happy to start your new career. You've found your passion, and worked very hard to get where you are. 

"Whatever you say, babydoll." He shrugs, following you towards the front door. You both gather your keys and jackets, giving Arwen a farewell pet before leaving for the day. Eddie drives you to the school, pulling up into the teacher's lot at the back of the building. "Here we are, princess." He says, gesturing towards the structure he loathes to this very day.

"Yep. Here we are." You nod, gripping hard on the handles of your lunch box and teaching bag. As excited as you are to get started, you can't help feeling a little overwhelmed as you stare at the empty school.

"Hey, look at me." Eddie pipes up, and you turn to look at him. He puts a hand over yours, gazing at you adoringly. "You're gonna do great in there, honey. The kids are gonna love you. Everything will be fine." He speaks calmly to you, putting your jitters to rest.

"Promise?" You ask as a confident smile creeps across your face.

"Promise." He answers sincerely, leaning in to give you a good-bye kiss. You meet him in the middle, the feeling of his lips on yours calming you down further. "Now, get your hot teacher ass in there! Hawkins High better watch out!" Eddie chuckles goofily, shooing you out of the car. You do as he says, making a show of swaying your hips as you walk towards the school. He whoops from the rolled-down window, and you turn around and walk backwards to wave at him. He returns it, before turning the key to get the engine running. "Have a good day, Mrs. Munson!" He cheers as he pulls out of the parking space.

"I will!" You shout back, cheeks turning pink as joy overtakes you. You spin back around to head inside, listening to the van driving away to take Eddie to work. He'd decided to get a more adult job recently, at the local auto shop. He's pretty handy with cars, as it turns out, and having an in with the owner isn't a bad thing, either. The pay is good, he gets to work with his hands all day, and he's left looking sexy as all hell at the end of his shift. 

You're picturing it in your mind right now as you make your way through the school halls. Blue jumpsuit, stained with oil and grease, the top half tied around his waist with an equally dirty white t-shirt underneath. His curly mane tied back in a messy ponytail, a few strands framing his face. And the best part, dark streaks of what you lovingly call 'car gunk' all over his pretty skin. On his hands, his arms, little smudges on his nose and cheeks. Sometimes on his chest, if the day is hot enough and he ditches the shirt. Fuck, you've never seen a man look so gorgeous while doing manual labor. You may have stopped in a few times to 'get your oil changed' or 'brakes checked' to catch a glimpse of him in action, which usually leads to him taking an early lunch and railing you in the back office. Thankfully, no one seems to bat an eye when you leave with grease marks on your clothes afterwards.

Just as you stop fantasizing about your beautiful husband, you're right outside your very own classroom. Your name is engraved on a plate mounted beside the door, telling you this is your new domain. You're already quite familiar with the space, having learned under Mrs. O'Donnell for the past couple years. Plus, you had a few weeks to come in and whip up lesson plans and arrange the room as you see fit. You take a deep breath, and pull the door open to get started. And once you step through that threshold, everything feels like it's falling into place.

Speaking of things following their natural order, quite a lot has changed since the summer of 1990. Dustin's starting his senior year at Cal-Tech, which will be followed by an internship at NASA. He's apparently one of the best and brightest the university has seen in a very long time, to no one's surprise. He's moving up in the world, getting all these wonderful opportunities, and you couldn't be happier for him. As for Mom, she's not too keen on the whole continued long-distance thing, but she's so proud of him in spite of that. She's been doing alright for herself as of late, joining a romance novel book club with Mrs. Wheeler and Mrs. Sinclair. They're big fans of pulp fiction, it seems. 

Other developments within your long-extended family are numerous. The Hellfire kids are thriving under Erica's rule, who's proving to be a more formidable Dungeon Master than even Eddie himself. You've played a few campaigns with them, when the timing is right given everyone's busy schedule. You haven't won a single one, which makes Erica far too pleased for her own good. She's managed to stump the former head honcho himself, totally schooling him in the game time and again. She's quite the mastermind, which will prove useful in her pursuit of a career in criminal psychology. The other kids have pretty general goals, most of them wanting to follow in their parents' footsteps. 

Nancy's five months pregnant with her and Jonathan's first child, a little baby girl. Nancy is really nervous, but Jonathan is overjoyed by the prospect of being a dad. He's been reading all the baby books, learning everything he can to be a team player for his beautiful, glowing wife. You've seen the sonogram, and Mom helped Karen throw a wonderful baby shower for the mother to be. That was a lot of fun, hanging out with all the other ladies in the group, having fancy tea and sandwiches while giving Nancy everything she needs for when the baby arrives. She even made Robin and Vickie the god-parents, which was really sweet. The overall idea of having kids may be a bit foreign to you, and always will be. But it's nice to share in the joy of your friends. 

Steve and Chrissy, on the other hand, are just recently getting serious. He popped the question to her a few months ago, the two of them wanting to take things slow. It's really paid off, they are honestly one of the happiest couples you've ever seen. Chrissy managed to convince Jason to sign the divorce papers from prison, which was a shock. But she said he knew there was no winning her back at this point, so he set her free. Perhaps some hard time has helped him see what an awful man he used to be, and he wants to make things right. Either way, Steve is very much looking forward to making an honest woman out of Chrissy, as well as officially adopting JJ as his own son. In regards to the upcoming wedding, both you and Eddie have been asked to be in the bridal party. Robin is going to be Steve's 'best woman', and Vickie is the maid of honor. She's surprisingly gotten really close with Chrissy, sharing similar tastes in clothes and movies, as well as having overbearing parents. It's a friendship no one expected, but it's a welcome one.

Robin and Vickie have moved in together, sharing a quiet little house on the edge of town, with an acre or so of land along with it. They have a few chickens, a cow, a goat, and some honeybees. It's their own little homestead, growing food for themselves and selling some at a small, colorfully-decorated stand they have on the side of the country road. Robin's become oddly outdoorsy as time has passed, but it's more that she wants to share this thriving, private space with the woman she loves. They've had you and the others over a few times for dinner, which always ends outside at a massive fire pit they've dug out back. It's warm and cozy at their place, and you never fail to leave there with a massive smile on your face after wonderful food and conversation.

The Hopper/Byers family have plans to move back to Hawkins, missing everyone way too much to be so far away any longer. You're looking forward to having them back in town, they really are a great bunch. Hopper's aiming to get his job back at the police station, but more as a detective than anything else. The town has had a bit of a boom as of late, expanding as more people come looking for that sweet, suburban paradise. With said growth has come new shops and restaurants, though the tried and true landmarks of this place have been going stronger than ever, despite a little friendly competition. This growth also calls for a facelift of tax-paid services to maintain it all, which includes the police department. It's nice to watch this once dingy little town turn into a real spot on the map. A humble spot, but a spot worth taking a second glance at, that's for sure. 

Last, but not least, there's the matter of Wayne. Given that he's been getting on in years, he decided to retire shortly after you and Eddie got married. He felt like his job was finally done. He'd raised his scared, scrawny nephew up into a fearless, beautiful young man. So, he quit his job at the plant, and now spends his time traveling around in a small RV. He got a sweet basset hound named Bessie to keep him company on his adventures, visiting every silly tourist attraction and crappy motel this country has to offer. He also sends you postcards, of which you receive at least three a week. You've gotten cards from the Corn Palace in South Dakota, Roswell in New Mexico, the Blue Whale of Catoosa, and many, many more. They give you and Eddie a good laugh whenever you check the mail, and you always call Wayne at whatever motor park number he writes down on the cards the night that you get them. 

All in all, everybody is doing really well. Everyone has their own things going on, finding contentment in whatever that means for them. After years of loss, and tragedy, and general upheaval in this once-sleepy town of Hawkins, Indiana, it's more than earned. You've all taken the bad and the ugly in stride, and the good is well worth all the hardship you've worked through to get it. Everything is exactly as it's meant to be, despite life trying its hardest to throw obstacle after obstacle in your path. They say happy endings only exist in movies, and it would be naïve to say that no challenges will come your way ever again. But, the fact is, now that you've formed such strong bonds with one another, you know you can make it through. And as far as you're concerned, that's a happy ending if you've ever seen one. The knowledge that, no matter what happens, you'll always have people you love by your side to get through it.

[sheabuttersworld]

GYARU READER X DENKI HEADCANNONS

INCOMINGG.....

(im sorry babes 😞 it's not alot, ive so much work to do rn😮‍💨 but i hope y'all like it 😓😓☝🏽❕)

- denki has a secret tumblr blog dedicated to reposting gyaru makeup tutorials, hair tutorials, slang and fashion

- definitely interested in gyaruo and pesters you about it when he sees a video of it on tiktok or any social platform

- matching accessories? abso-fucking-lutely. you probably got him a phone charm that matches yours, and he shows it off like it’s a trophy.

- places whatever keychain you've given him anywhere he can find. on the loops of his jeans, his school bag, his wallet etc.

-one time wore one the keychains he won for you from the claw machine as a necklace and he forgot it was on whilst eating and it almost choked him

- dates with denki are usually impromptu and unplanned like going to the arcade, karaoke, or just wandering around the city. you guys take stupidly cute purikura pictures together, and he keeps one in his wallet.

- if you ever get in trouble for going against uniform rules, he finds it stupid and also funny at the same time and argues alongside you with the teacher about dress code

- ur personal hypeman no matter what.

- if you have nails on, he literally starts zoning out whenever you tap your nails on something cause to him it's like the perfect "white noise"

- denki will walk around in the most uncoordinated socks, one will be a long striped neon yellow and orange sock and the other will be an ankle sock from a trampoline park he went to.

- you tried to go shopping and get him new socks but that's become his statement thing now.

- you watch him take stupid quizzes at 3 AM (he fully believes in the results) e.g

" babe, they said im an angel with a shotgun. that's so me "

- has really good fashion taste but will randomly throw on something stupid, like an old spongebob tee from 4 years ago with a office blazer cause he thinks it's funny

- hypes up your outfits like his life depends on it with whatever first comes to his head. “GAWEDAMN, babe....you just ended world hunger, yk why?....CAUSE YOU SERVED😝😝"

-always says stupid stuff like that

- if both of you are at the mall, he holds your purse/bag like he's a bodyguard on shift. but eventually acts like it's his purse the way that he swings it around cause he forgets he's supposed to be protecting it.

- both of your camera rolls are a mess—a good amount of them are reaction memes, half being weird tiktok live screenshots, and the remaining being pictures of you two together, bad angles, photoshoots, with his friends, outings, etc.

- you guys have this game you play where you guys try to get as many 0.5x pictures of each other and at the end of the month you guys count to see who has more and the loser has to wear whatever the other person chooses for them for a week

a/n: i don't think this is enough so ill make it up to you guys with a hanta and a denki smau maybe🤨🤔

[thesweetestsupervillains]

"Oh they hated her, and she hated them. They were quite ready to destroy her utterly, as they thought of her as a risk. Angry, bitter, mad scientists were the norm, but they were very much out of fashion. The world of the bomb had made world destroying weapons real... And someone like her talking about forcing the world forward seemed very dangerous indeed."

"Of course, it was harder to just get rid of her when she seemed to absorb information like a sponge and actively began challenging her teachers on things. Most teachers are roughly capable of using the spheres to around the third level... She managed what they did in under a year. She was knocking at the doors of what had once been called the 'deep mysteries' of the order of reason. When members learn how to do things that appear to be magic to the unawakened."

"Which of course, raised more questions and made a lot of people skeptical. It's also where I enter the story. I had come back to Earth, having just finished helping some fellow members around Jupiter. Imagine my surprise when the university was in an uproar about whether or not to terminate a new initiate. That's pretty strange on its own; Sons of Ether usually prioritize out of the box thinking."

"So I took it upon myself to see her for myself. Talk with her. And I must admit I felt that I understood her feelings; a world that felt small and constrained, and people who felt more comfortable inside their boxes than pushing the envelope. I made her an offer of course; I would take her under my wing and see for myself if she was capable. The other Sons were quite pleased to be rid of her; they assumed she would self destruct out in the far reaches of creation with me."

"Suffice it to say she did not. Once she was shown that the universe was not as small as they told her, most of her anger disappeared. She has an absolutely ravenous appetite for learning, and she genuinely believes she's doing good things. She's passionate and she's open minded, but she's extremely confrontational. She takes nothing at face value and demands that everything be proven. In other words, a perfectly normal Son of Ether in the era I was raised in."

"..Right. I suppose I could see how people decided that reigning their people in could stop something like that from happening agian." It was nice to hear they felt some responsiblity for what happened, in a weird way.

"I have been..made aware of it, yes." That was her way of covering up the fact that she was now second-guessing herself for having read it cover-to-cover twice now and still hasn't gotten whatever the awakening was.

"..That does sound like Gina." Forcibly expand the boundaries indeed - and seemingly as quickly as possible at that. Honestly, the Sons of ether seemed to have a more..sensible approach when put at odds like that.

She should really look into the rest of the sons of ether at some point-

"..So she ended up butting heads with the rest of the Sons of Ether often?"

[lemonlimestar]

i found this in a comic bin the other day??? they just let anyone do variant covers huh

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer