#but also with all that in your head you're still just going on living life everyday

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part thirteen

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: brief moments of kissing, violence, swearing, mentions of blood

author's note: i was writing this during 1013029 other assignments so if there's any errors forgive me i have so much mental fatigue rn also i think i spelled sofia's name wrong at some point in this story so my b

You stood there in silence, your lip quivering in the aftermath of the argument with Kiara. Holding yourself tightly, you fought back tears, the weight of her words pressing down on you. The night air felt heavy and suffocating, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Rafe placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, his touch warm and reassuring. "I can take you home if you need me to. Or you can come back to my place," he offered, his voice soft and concerned.

You sniffled, wiping away a single tear as you turned to face Rafe, nodding quickly as you tried to brush off your emotions. "Can you just... take me to your house tonight?" you said flatly, your gaze fixed on the ground. "I don't think it's a good idea to be around Kie right now. She probably needs time to calm down."

Rafe nodded without hesitation, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "Of course," he replied softly. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

The drive was a blur, the city lights flickering past as you both sat in contemplative silence. When you finally arrived at Rafe's house, he parked the car and hurried around to your side, opening the door for you. You stepped out, the cool night air brushing against your skin, grounding you for a moment.

Rafe led you inside, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the dimly lit hallway. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you entered his home, the familiarity of it offering a small comfort.

He took you to the living room and sat you down on the couch, then disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and a warm blanket, draping it over your shoulders as he handed you the glass.

"Here," he said softly, sitting down beside you. "Drink this. It'll help."

You took a sip, the cool water soothing your parched throat. Rafe watched you with concern, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

You shook your head, not ready to delve into the emotions swirling inside you. "Not right now," you murmured. "I just... I need a moment."

Rafe nodded, respecting your need for space. He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm here when you're ready," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You leaned back against the couch, the events of the night replaying in your mind. Kiara's harsh words, Sophia's taunts, and the overwhelming confrontation left you feeling drained and uncertain. But as you sat there, Rafe's presence beside you offered a sense of support.

Rafe's house was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling party you had just left. You leaned back on the couch, the blanket wrapped tightly around you as Rafe sat beside you, his hand still holding yours. The warmth of his touch was a grounding force amidst the chaos in your mind.

"I know things are a mess right now," Rafe began, his voice low and soothing. "But we'll figure it out. I promise."

You nodded, but your thoughts were far away, replaying the confrontation with Kiara over and over again. Her words had cut deep, and the realization that your secret was partially out left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. The anger in her voice and the betrayal in her eyes were hard to shake off.

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, bringing you back to the present. "Do you want to watch something? Maybe a movie to distract you?" You simply nodded.

Rafe got up from the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking through the channels until he found a light-hearted movie. He settled back down beside you, his arm draping over your shoulders protectively. As the movie played, you tried to focus on the screen, but your mind kept wandering back to the confrontation with Kiara.

"Is this okay?" Rafe asked softly, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded weakly, your eyes glued to your hands as you picked at your nails. "Yeah, it's fine."

Rafe adjusted the volume to a low, comforting hum. He leaned back, pulling you gently against him. His presence was soothing, a small lifeline in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

For a while, you sat in silence, the movie playing in the background. Rafe's fingers traced small, comforting circles on your arm. The gesture was simple but grounding, allowing you to feel his support without the need for words.

"I don't want to lose my friends," you whispered after a while, your voice barely audible.

Rafe tightened his hold on you. "I know. And you won't. It's just... going to take time. They're just being stubborn."

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. "I just wish things could go back to how they were."

Rafe's eyes stayed glued to yours, reading your expression carefully. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that—I don't know. I wish we didn't have to hide our relationship from them. I want to be with you unapologetically, yet I know my friends are going to crucify me for just speaking to you again." Your voice wavered with frustration and a touch of desperation, the weight of the secrecy and the fear of judgment bearing down on you.

Rafe's expression softened, a mix of understanding and sadness crossing his features. He reached out, taking both of your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "I know baby, I'm sorry," he said quietly, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the backs of your hands. "But we can get through this. I don't want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your friends."

You looked down, the conflict inside you swirling like a storm. "But what if they make me choose? What if they don't understand why I'm with you? Kiara and the others... they have such strong opinions about you, and they're not exactly positive."

Rafe sighed, a hint of frustration creeping up into his voice. "I know, but really, if they care about you, they would want you to be happy. It's selfish of them to ask you to choose."

You nodded, feeling a flicker of validation in his words. "I've never thought of it that way," you admitted, a glimmer of hope stirring within you.

"I'm serious, y/n," he continued, his tone firm but gentle. "You have gone through hell and back for them. The least they could do is let you be happy."

"It's not that simple," you responded, frustration and sadness mingling in your voice. "They've been my friends for so long, and we've been through so much together. They're like family to me. I can't just ignore their feelings."

Rafe sighed, understanding but still resolute. "I get that, but think about what you're saying. If they're truly your friends, if they really care about you, they should want you to be happy. You shouldn't have to hide who you're with or feel ashamed of your choices."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "I just wish they could see you the way I do," you said softly. "See how much you've changed and how much you care."

"I don't think they'll ever necessarily love me," Rafe sighed, tracing gentle lines onto your bare thigh, his touch soothing yet tinged with his own vulnerability. "But if they can see that you're happy with me, they'll have to at least accept that."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle within you. "I hope so," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want them to understand that I want to be with you, that you’re not who they think you are."

Rafe's eyes softened, his hand pausing its gentle motion to rest warmly on your thigh. "They will. It might take time, but they’ll see it. And I'll do whatever it takes to show them that I'm committed to you."

You placed your hand over his, squeezing gently. "Thank you, Rafe. For being patient and understanding. Means a lot to me."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're worth it," he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Every bit of it."

You and Rafe sat in silence for a moment, pausing to stare back at each other as you both analyzed the features of each other's faces. You felt the world melt away around you, as if everything else was just background noise amidst the feeling that was brewing inside of you towards Rafe.

His eyes, filled with a mix of concern and affection, held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The gentle curve of his lips, the way his hair fell slightly into his eyes—every detail seemed to draw you in deeper. You could feel the electricity between you, a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore.

Then suddenly, Rafe cupped your face gently, his touch soft and reassuring. His thumb brushed lightly across your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours until the very last moment.

His lips attached themselves to yours, moving slowly and tenderly. The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your mouths moving in sync together. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of emotions and sensations that made your head spin and your heart flutter.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, their delicate wings brushing against the walls of your insides, filling you with a sense of exhilaration and warmth. The worries and fears that had weighed you down seemed to dissolve in that moment, replaced by the pure, unfiltered joy of being close to Rafe.

His hands slid from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, holding on as if he were the only thing anchoring you to the world. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours—it all combined to create a perfect, intoxicating moment of connection.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dizzy, you opened your eyes to find Rafe gazing at you with an expression of pure adoration. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath, the world around you slowly coming back into focus.

Rafe's hand reached out, gently cradling your cheek as he whispered, "I love you, y/n," his voice soft yet full of sincerity. His eyes, filled with affection, locked onto yours, a silent declaration of his unwavering devotion.

Feeling the warmth of his touch, you leaned into his hand, savoring the tenderness of the moment. "I love you too, Rafe," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile graced Rafe's lips, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone as he leaned in closer. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"I'm always gonna love you," Rafe whispered, his voice filled with vulnerability and tenderness.

"How can you be so sure?" you asked quietly, your eyes glued onto your lap as you fiddled with your hands.

Rafe's gaze softened, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. "Because," he said softly, his voice certain, "I've spent the last two years thinking you were gone for good, and I'll be damned if I don't love you right while you're here."

"I've missed you so much," you whispered, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I never thought I'd get a second chance with you."

Rafe's thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You have me now," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. "And I'm not going anywhere."

You gave Rafe a small smile, gazing up at him with weary, tired eyes, but the blissful contentment you felt was undeniable. He noticed the exhaustion etched into your expression and gently urged you, "Get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

His words were soft, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You nodded, trusting in his promise. With a sense of security washing over you, you nestled closer into his embrace, your head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a deep slumber, each beat a reminder of his presence and unwavering support.

As you drifted off, Rafe wrapped his arms more securely around you, his touch a protective cocoon. He watched over you, his eyes filled with a tender mix of love and concern. The room fell silent, the only sound the soft, even breaths you took as you slept peacefully in his arms on the couch.

Hours passed soon passed when Rafe, too, succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, as if you might disappear if he let go. The both of you slept peacefully in each other's presence, the world outside fading away as you found solace in your shared slumber.

The tranquility of the night was abruptly shattered by a loud banging on the front door. The sudden noise jolted you awake, your heart pounding in your chest. The movement stirred Rafe, his arms tightening protectively around you as he blinked himself awake, confusion and concern flashing in his eyes.

"What's going on?" he mumbled, his voice groggy but alert.

"I don't know, somebody is pounding at the front door," you replied, sitting up and looking towards the door, the remnants of sleep quickly giving way to a sense of unease.

Rafe was immediately on his feet, his protective instincts kicking in as he moved to stand between you and the door. "Stay here," he instructed firmly, though his voice remained gentle.

The banging continued, persistent and insistent. Rafe glanced back at you, his eyes filled with reassurance despite the tension in the air. He approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole before opening it slightly.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his tone steady but firm.

Suddenly, your heart fell to your stomach as you heard a familiar voice through the door, "Open the fucking door, Cameron. I need to have a word with you, asshole!" The voice shouted, causing you to flinch. You looked at Rafe with dread and worry in your eyes. You could recognize that voice from miles away—it was JJ.

Rafe's jaw tightened, and he glanced at you, reading the anxiety on your face. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm as he turned back to the door. Silently, he urged you to stay where you were, though you felt a strong urge to rush in front of him.

Rafe swung the door open, only to be met with JJ, his anger evident across his face. "Where the fuck is she, Rafe? You think you can just have her whenever you feel like it, huh?" JJ shouted, shoving Rafe in the chest.

Rafe staggered back slightly but held his ground, his eyes narrowing. "JJ, calm down. This isn't the way to handle this." His voice remained somewhat calm, hoping not to scare you more than you already were.

"Calm down?" JJ barked, his face contorted with rage. "You've got some nerve, Cameron. Where is she?"

You took a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. "JJ, I'm right here," you said, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. "Please, just stop."

JJ's eyes snapped to you, and for a moment, the anger in his gaze was replaced by hurt. "Why, Y/N? Why are you with him? After everything he's done?"

Rafe stepped slightly in front of you, shielding you with his body. "JJ, I know you're upset. But barging in here and starting a fight isn't going to help anything."

"Shut the fuck up, Rafe. You don't know shit about how I feel," JJ seethed, a look of disgust ridden on his face as he glared at Rafe. "y/n, are you serious? The second we get back on the island, you run right back to him? Are you insane?"

JJ's chagrin and despondency left you feel gutted in the heat of the moment as you stood there, although physically guarded by Rafe, suffocated by the morose glance in your best friend's eyes as they bored into yours. You could feel heat rise to your cheeks as the tension rose, an uncomfortable itch creeping up your neck.

"Jay it wasn't like that," you defended although it was quite meekly, "I wanted nothing to do with him when we came back, you know that. I..I didn't choose this." Your words faltered, lacking the conviction you wished you could muster. Your arms wrapped around yourself protectively, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the onslaught of JJ's resentment.

"So that's it? You didn't 'choose this', so that makes cheating on me okay?" JJ spat out, his once wounded expression faltering into one of disgust and animosity.

"So that's it? You didn't 'choose this', so that makes cheating on me okay?" JJ spat out, his tone laced with bitterness and anger. The accusation hung heavy in the air, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Guilt gnawed at your insides, a painful reminder of the hurt you had inadvertently caused. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to find the right words to explain yourself.

You stumbled on your words once again, attempting to speak up for yourself despite your heart breaking right in that moment. "No, JJ, I-"

"Save it, Y/N. I hope all of this was worth it," JJ scoffed, pointing around for emphasis. "You're a real bitch, you know that?" His words struck you like a physical blow, and you felt your chest tighten with the weight of his accusation. The pain in his voice mirrored the agony in your own heart, and the realization that you had hurt him so deeply was almost unbearable.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you squared your shoulders, a shaky resolve settling over you. "JJ, please, just listen-"

Just before you could finish your sentence, Rafe spoke up, getting in between you and JJ. "Don't you fucking dare call her that," he threatened, his voice low and dangerous. His protective stance shielded you from JJ's searing gaze.

"Or what, Rafe? You're gonna call your daddy and have him frame me for a murder you committed?" JJ shot back, his words dripping with venom, his fists clenching at his sides.

In an instant, the atmosphere crackled with tension, the air thick with animosity. Rafe's usually composed demeanor shattered like glass, replaced by a primal fury. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with JJ's jaw with a sickening thud. The room erupted into chaos as the two men grappled with each other, fists flying and curses spat between clenched teeth. Rafe's rage fueled every blow, his pent-up frustration unleashed in a flurry of violence.

JJ fought back with equal ferocity, his anger fueled by a sense of betrayal and hurt. Each punch landed with a sickening impact, the sound echoing off the walls as the fight raged on.

You watched in horror, torn between the instinct to intervene and the fear of making things worse. "Stop! Please, stop!" you cried out, your voice barely audible over the sound of their struggle.

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the two men continued to pummel each other, locked in a vicious battle fueled by years of unresolved tension. Furniture toppled and glass shattered as they crashed into anything in their path, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rafe managed to gain the upper hand. With a final, bone-crushing blow, he sent JJ crashing to the ground, blood pooling beneath him as he lay motionless. The room fell into stunned silence as Rafe stood over JJ's prone form, his chest heaving with exertion. The adrenaline coursing through his veins slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a wave of guilt and regret.

You stood there, frozen in shock, your hands trembling as you covered your wide-open mouth. The scene unfolded before you in a surreal blur, the sound of fists connecting and bodies colliding echoing in the air. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

As JJ fell to the floor from Rafe's powerful blow, a strangled gasp escaped your lips. The sight of him lying motionless, blood pooling beneath him, sent a shiver down your spine. It was as if time had come to a standstill, the weight of the violence crashing down on you like a ton of bricks.

Rafe's voice broke through the haze of shock, his words heavy with regret. "Y/N, you shouldn't have seen that. I'm so sorry."

You blinked, trying to process his apology amidst the chaos that surrounded you. His voice sounded distant, as if coming from a faraway place, and you struggled to find your own voice amidst the turmoil in your mind.

"I-" You shook your head, backing up as you stared down at JJ, your heart wrenching in anguish. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you cried, "JJ, please wake up. I'm sorry... I didn't mean for this to happen."

Your voice cracked with emotion, each word choked out between sobs as you knelt beside him. You reached out, gently cradling JJ's head in your trembling hands, desperate for any sign of life from him.

"Rafe, we have to help him, please," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whisper as you turned to Rafe, your eyes pleading for assistance. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you, the guilt of witnessing the violence that had unfolded consuming you from the inside out.

"Get my phone and call Sarah, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with urgency as Rafe rushed over to grab it. He handed it to you with a sense of urgency, his guilty expression mirroring the turmoil in your own heart.

With shaking hands, you dialed Sarah's number, each digit feeling like a weight in your chest. The phone rang once, twice, before finally connecting.

"Sarah," you choked out, your voice thick with tears. "I need you to come over to your house, please. Something happened with JJ." As you spoke, Rafe hovered anxiously beside you, his eyes filled with remorse. You could see the weight of his actions bearing down on him, and despite the chaos surrounding you, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"Okay," Sarah replied, her voice steady but tinged with concern. "I'll be there in a second."

The urgency in her tone spurred you into action. With trembling hands, you ended the call and turned to Rafe, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination.

"We need to do something," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "We can't just leave him here like this."

Together, you sprang into action, working in frantic silence to assess JJ's injuries. Blood stained his shirt where Rafe's punches had landed, and you could see bruises forming on his face and arms. As you knelt beside him, gently cradling his head in your hands, a sense of helplessness washed over you. The sight of JJ lying there, battered and broken, was almost too much to bear.

But you refused to give in to despair. With Sarah on her way, there was still hope. You could only pray that she would arrive in time to help.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. Finally, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and relief flooded through you as Sarah burst through the door, her medical bag in hand.

"Thank God you're here," you breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

Sarah's eyes widened in horror at the sight of JJ on the floor, his battered form a stark contrast to the usual lively friend they knew. Before she could speak, Kiara appeared from behind her, her shocked gasp echoing through the room.

"What the fuck did you do?" Kiara's voice was filled with disbelief and anger, her eyes flickering between you, Rafe, and JJ's prone figure on the floor.

You felt a knot form in your stomach at the accusation in her tone. "Kiara, it's not what you think," you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "Rafe didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Rafe stepped forward, his expression pained. "It was an accident," he added, his voice thick with remorse. "I never meant to hurt him."

But Kiara's eyes narrowed, her disbelief turning to fury. "An accident?" she spat, her voice rising with each word. "Look at him! Do you call this an accident?"

You flinched at the accusation, the weight of Kiara's anger bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to find the words to explain yourself.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Sarah interjected, her voice calm but urgent. "Now."

You nodded, frantically looking around the room for your things as you prepared to head to the hospital with your friends, a sense of urgency propelling you forward. But before you could take another step, Kiara's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"No, you're not going," she declared, her tone firm and uncompromising. She crossed her arms, her attitude towards you full of spite.

You felt a surge of disbelief wash over you at her words. "But Kiara, I have to go," you protested, your voice tinged with desperation. "I need to be there for JJ."

Kiara's gaze hardened, her resolve unyielding. "You caused this," she accused, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "And you're gonna have to live with it."

The weight of her words hit you like a ton of bricks, the realization sinking in that you were being held accountable for the events that had transpired. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

"But I didn't mean for any of this to happen," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. "Please, Kiara, I need to be there for him."

But Kiara remained unmoved, her expression steely as she refused to budge. With a heavy heart, you realized that there was no changing her mind.

Defeated, you sank down onto the nearest chair, feeling utterly powerless as your friends prepared to leave without you. The guilt of what had happened weighed heavily on your shoulders, and as you watched them disappear out the door, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever be the same again.

"Y/n, it's gonna be okay," Rafe reassured quietly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving a small squeeze. His touch was warm, but the comfort it offered felt distant and far away.

You stared at the doorway, watching as Sarah and Kiara disappeared with JJ. A single tear slid down your cheek, a silent testament to the turmoil swirling inside you. The room felt colder and emptier in their absence, the weight of the night's events pressing down on you like a physical burden.

"I don't know, Rafe," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I don't know if things will ever be okay again."

Rafe squeezed your shoulder a bit tighter, his expression softening with concern. "They will. Kiara's just angry right now. She'll come back around."

You wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope that somehow, things would return to normal. But as you sat there, feeling the sting of Kiara's words and the pain of JJ's injuries, the rift between your two worlds seemed insurmountable.

You turned to Rafe, searching his eyes for reassurance. "What if they don't? What if I've lost them for good?"

Rafe paused for a moment, his gaze holding steady as his eyes flickered between yours. He swallowed thickly, his expression softening with earnest concern. "You can't keep worrying about what might happen in the future, y/n," he said gently. "You just have to take things one step at a time, yeah? Don't stress yourself out over them."

You nodded slowly, trying to absorb his words. The future felt like a dark, looming cloud, but Rafe's steady presence offered a small ray of light. His hand moved from your shoulder to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had fallen.

"I know it's hard," he continued, his voice unwavering. "But you need to focus on what you can control right now. We'll deal with the rest as it comes."

You took a deep breath, feeling a slight easing of the tension that had gripped you. "I just... I don't want to lose them," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't," Rafe promised, his eyes filled with determination. "It might take some time, but if they really love you, they will come around. They just need to see that you're happy and that this is real."

You bit your lip, considering his words. The thought of losing your friends was unbearable, but so was the idea of losing Rafe. You knew that somehow, you had to find a way to reconcile both parts of your life.

"Thank you, Rafe," you said quietly, your voice steadying. "For being here. For understanding."

Rafe crouched down to be eye level with you on the couch, placing his hands on the tops of your thighs as he gazed up at you softly. His touch was gentle, grounding you in the present moment as he spoke. "I'm always gonna be here, y/n. That I promise you."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt but finding none. His sincerity was genuine, and the warmth of his hands on your thighs provided a comforting blanket around your heart as your emotions felt torn. The unwavering steadiness in his gaze reassured you in a way that words alone couldn't.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief and gratitude. "Rafe, I don't know what I would do without you," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

"I could say the same to you," Rafe laughed softly, though a glimpse of sincerity peaked through his tone. He shifted slightly, his hands still resting on your thighs, his thumbs gently tracing soothing circles. "Seeing you again showed me how miserable I was when you were gone. I was a mess."

You furrowed your brow, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

Rafe sighed, his expression growing more somber as he averted his gaze briefly, as if gathering the courage to continue. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself. "I did a lot of things I regret," he admitted, his voice heavy with remorse. "I... I cheated on Sofia, did a shit ton of drugs. There's not much I didn't do."

You felt a pang of sadness and concern for him as you listened. His honesty was raw, unfiltered, and it made you realize just how deeply your absence had affected him. Rafe's hands tightened slightly on your thighs, as if he feared you might pull away after hearing his confession.

"When you left, I felt like my world fell apart," he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know how to cope, so I turned to anything that could numb the pain. I thought I could fill the void with other people, with substances, but nothing worked. I was just... lost."

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. "Rafe, I'm so sorry you went through that," you whispered, your heart aching for the pain he had endured. "I had no idea."

Rafe leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the comfort it brought. "It was my own doing," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "But seeing you again, being with you now, it feels like I've been given a second chance. I don't want to mess this up."

Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped his eye. "We're both here now," you reassured him softly. "We can move forward together, learn from the past and make things right."

Rafe nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a newfound determination. "I want to be better for you, y/n," he vowed, his voice steady and sincere. "I want to be the person you deserve."

"You're the only person I want," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between you, charged with emotion and vulnerability.

Rafe's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. He shifted closer, his hands sliding up from your thighs to gently cradle your face. "You don't know how much it means to hear you say that," he murmured, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheeks.

Your heart raced as you gazed into his eyes, the intensity of the moment making everything else fade into the background. "It's the truth," you continued, your voice growing steadier. "No matter what happens, no matter what anyone else thinks, I want to be with you."

Rafe's breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked as if he was struggling to find the right words. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I promise I'll make it up to you, all of the time we lost," he whispered against your skin. "I'll be the man you deserve."

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his voice. "We can make this work," you said softly, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. "As long as we're honest with each other, I think we'll be okay, Rafe."

Rafe pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious yet filled with a renewed sense of determination. "I'm all in," he declared, his voice unwavering. "No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, no matter what anyone says."

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and resolve. "I promise," you echoed, sealing your promise with a kiss.

As your lips met, you felt a profound sense of connection, a bond forged in the trials and tribulations of the past and strengthened by the commitment to face the future as a united front. The kiss deepened, a mix of passion and reassurance, conveying everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but the air between you was lighter, filled with possibilities. Rafe rested his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips. "We should probably get some sleep," he suggested gently, his hands still cradling your face. "It's been a long night."

You nodded, a feeling of exhaustion beginning to settle in now that the adrenaline was fading. "You're right," you agreed, though you were reluctant to break the moment. "But I'm glad we talked."

"Me too," Rafe replied, his smile growing. "Come on, let's get some rest."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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[the-s1lly-corner]

CRP characters crushing on the reader 1/?

Not sure how many parts this will be split into, probably 2 or 3 we will see! If the character you want isnt here check the other parts! If they aren't in any parts assume I dont write for them! Ben will not be included in this series

Characters: Slenderman, Splendorman, Masky, Hoodie, Laughing Jack, Eyeless Jack, Puppeteer

Notes: reader is GN but focus is mainly on canon characters

CWs: canon typical stuff, stalking/observing

SLENDERMAN

Honestly the idea of an old forest creature developing feelings for you is kind of flattering, at least it is to me. Especially when you headcanon that said creature can kind of sense what kind of person you are, without needing to directly interact with you. Assuming you both haven't interacted, you notice flowers placed in areas of the forest you walk around and visit a lot. You also notice a looming presence but you can pin point where it's coming from, you just know you're being watched. Observes you from afar, and the only reason you ever catch him it because he lets you see him. Not a traditional relationship or one that forms with a confession, more like... you both growing more and more attached to each other as he assimilates himself into your life. I can see him doing this in general, regardless of if he feels ends up being romantic or not.

SPLENDORMAN

Not as reclusive as his brother, he's more open to approaching you and trying to strike a bond. Here's to hoping you don't freak out from being approached by this tall lanky monster! Puts off asking you out for a while to give you some time to get used to him and for a proper relationship to build. Keeps track of everything you've ever said to him and uses it to get on your good side. Gifts, ideas for activities, and so on! He likes letting you talk, and he lets you vent to him. His advice can border a bit on toxic positivity, but he does do his best to actually take in what you're saying. In a way you can say he's obsessed with you, but it's more of a puppy love kind of way as opposed to how some other characters may be... which we will get into later!

MASKY

A watcher, keeps a close eye on you before even thinking of interacting with you. Darts out of sight before you turn around and manage to catch a glimpse of him. Leaves things on your doorstep, things he's picked up on you enjoying. He still does this if the two of you are already familiar with each other, sometimes he even does it if you're letting him stay in your house. Protective, as well, so you won't ever have to worry about anyone attempting to come hurt you or otherwise mess with you! He's kind of like a cat in regards to watching from afar but not wanting to get directly involved, kind of shrinks away from any affection or moves you throw his way. Weird shit.

HOODIE

He's very similar to Masky, but he's more likely to mess with you and get your attention. Leaving notes, or letting you catch peeks of him before he decides to come interact with you in person. If you ever go outside, he leaves you some thing he's found while out and about in the woods. Cool rocks or small sticks, things like that! More likely to approach you and/or accept any attention you throw his way than Masky is, actually he enjoys when you return the energy and you're just as weird as him.

LAUGHING JACK

Congrats, you've found an old music box that looked cool... little did you know you now have a secret admirer. Definitely the type to make a version of you in his head before he even interacts with you. I think it would be a coin toss on whether you live up to his expectations or let him down. I mean even if you do, he still wants to know everything about you. Open flirt and a tease when you get used to his presence. A yapper, through and through. He's going to be all over the place in an attempt to keep your attention on him and he visibly wilts and pouts when you need to put it somewhere else. Very openly affectionate, as well.

EYELESS JACK

One of the few that would not end up confessing his feelings unless you did it first. I always tend to write him as hermit and a recluse, not wanting to interact with others given the whole... eating flesh thing... and the bloodlust hc I have. He likely saw you through stalking another person, or maybe you were the person he was originally planning to harvest from. Who knows! You just know that you went from feeling like you were being watched and followed to becoming hyper aware that those signs just... stopped... It's a little unnerving... You notice a gift on your doorstep, and that's it. Like someone was trying to make up for something. He internalizes his feelings a lot, too. This actually makes him angrier with his situation since it's another part of his life he can't get back. Botched human sacrifices, am I right?

PUPPETEER

You notice your things being moved or outright going missing. Sometimes they look used. Unlike other characters that watch from afar before making themselves known, Puppeteer can't help himself and he wants to get in your face. You kind of get a ghost roommate, soo... have fun! Teases and flirts with you to your face, if you ever return the same energy he doesn't let you know how much it affects him. Deflects by turning it back on you. Demands your attention like Jack, but he's more... hmm.. about it. He doesn't outright say he wants you to pay attention to him but he finds ways to make you pay attention. If that makes sense...

[hazz-a-bear]

FOODS FOR WORMS, wen junhui

♡⸝⸝ loving junhui comes to you as easy as breathing. so it's only right that you love him with everything you've got till you're nothing but foods for worms to eat.

.ᐟ fluff. comfort. junhui cries and he should never cry, especially on his birthday. very mild soonyoung slander because he's an alleged furry.

🎧 everywhere, everything - noah kahan, gracie abrams

A/N - This is a love letter to Wen Junhui and nothing less, nothing more. I hope he receives all the love he deserves not only on his birthday, but for the rest of his life <3

The tenth of June was probably one of the most special days for you.

It was circled with a red marker on the calendar on top of your desk, there was a permanent countdown on your phone leading up to the day and it was also the sequence of numbers that acted as the password to all kinds of devices you owned.

Which, now that you think about it, is probably the most predictable thing and also the reason Soonyoung keeps getting access to your wifi from a five-mile radius of your apartment. But even after years and years of using it, you still haven't gotten the heart to change it. Not even when your internet provider, very concerningly, handed you a bill of your rising wifi charges and a list of browsing history you were honestly too scared to look at.

( You should probably ask him about the context of 'Help I accidentally started a cult' and 'Is it illegal to own a pet tiger?' but it's Soonyoung, so you're sort of glad you never did )

( It's still not as bad as 'Am I a furry if I pretend to be a tiger around people?' though, you have to agree )

The moral of the story is surprisingly not the fact that you should change your wifi password from 100696 so your boyfriend's best friend can't easily feed off of the service that you pay for with your money. ( For diabolical reasons that is, by the way )

The actual moral of the story, however: June 10th is a special day.

Junhui likes to call it his birthday. You like to call it his heritage day, his womb escape anniversary and the day that gave the world what would be the best gift of your entire life.

The fascinatingly beautiful being that is Wen Junhui was created nine months prior and was grazed upon this earth on the 10th of June.

Okay, that's a weird way to put it.

It's Junhui's birthday.

And you are anything but normal about it.

As always, the celebrations start on June 1st itself. You wake him up with a celebratory birth-month breakfast consisting of his favorites - pancakes with blueberries for eyes and a whipped cream smile for a mouth. Junhui gets up every year with a shy smile and a 'Sweetheart, you didn't have to do this' knowing damn well you're not going to be stopped from celebrating him at any point.

The two of you usually stay up the day before his actual birthday. Curling up on the couch with a show on the TV, it's tradition for the two of you to just rest and enjoy the silent night.

This time, Junhui saunters up to you just as you're finishing cleaning up the kitchen after dinner on the ninth of June. With a coy smile, he pulls you into the living room before sitting down next to you on the couch, quickly draping all over you and finding his comfort spot tucked into your side.

As some kind of show plays in the background, you pull him impossibly close to you. Between zoning out and focusing on the plot of the show, you press small fluttering kisses to the crown of his head. Junhui preens and leans into you like a cat, chasing the press of your lips with a tilt of his head. When you pull away at some point, he turns to you with the smallest pout on his lips.

The two of you spend the majority of the night like that, basking in each other's warmth and counting the minutes leading up to the second the clock strikes midnight.

And when it finally does and your phone chimes with a buzzing alarm to announce that yes, the day that you've been counting down is finally here, you turn to him.

Junhui knows the drill so he easily goes when you shift him to face you. There's a hint of a smile pulling at his lips because he knows what's coming.

The clock reads, ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

"It's your womb escape anniversary" Your voice is nothing above a whisper because the two of you are that close already.

"You're never going to stop calling it that, are you?" He sighs but he's clearly trying to hide a grin as he does.

"Never" You shake your head before you bring up a hand to gently cradle his face.

You let yourself stare shamelessly at the face of the man you've loved for what feels like an eternity.

"Happy Birthday, my love" You let the back of your fingers caress the soft skin of his cheeks. "Thank you for letting me share all your days"

Junhui smiles before he brings up a hand to wrap around your wrist. He tilts his head to press his lips to your palm before he holds it close and peers into you with his eyes that you fall in love with every day.

"Thank you"

When you lean in to kiss him, it's all slow and languid, much like the love the two of you share. There's nothing urgent about it, just a continuous press of fluttering lips like you're breathing each other into your lungs. You hold him by the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the fabric of his t-shirt as he presses his lips to yours in a final kiss.

"I love you"

"I love you more", comes out easier than breathing.

On the day of his birthday, usually, the two of you would get an off day to spend the day by yourselves doing whatever Junhui's heart desired.

The year before last, he wanted to go to the Ghibli Studio Museum. The trip, no matter how impromptu or unplanned it was, had been one of the best trips you've ever been. More than the shops, the rides or seeing all the characters from your favorite movies, what made you happy was the sight of Junhui running around the place with twinkling eyes, a beaming smile on his lips and a stuffed Totoro tucked under his arm.

Last year, he very cheekily asked if he could go to one of those build-a-bear showrooms and you were getting in the car as fast as you could, driving to the place at god's speed with Junhui beaming happily in the passenger seat. Totoro from Tokyo gained two new brothers that day - a rainbow bear Jun had named 'Sir Bear the II' and a brown bear you very confidently decided to call not Dirt but 'Durt'

This year, everything was usual from the birth-month breakfast in bed to the mandatory birthday shenanigans Junhui decided to be a part of. But when you'd asked him what kind of adventure he'd like to take on the day itself, Junhui had very carefully sat you down on the edge of the bed with his hands lacing yours.

"Will you believe me if I said I just want to spend the time with you?"

You swear your brain short-circuited for a moment before you managed to kick-start back into reality, asking him what he's trying to say. He had been so sweet as he explained how exhausted he was after all the work he'd been buried under recently. Moving back and forth through countries, doing an ungodly amount of work and on the edge of a teetering peak of his career, he cast his eyes down as he asked you,

"I want to stay home this time, spend the day with you. Just us two, is that okay?"

Not that you were going to, but how can you ever say no to a man ( a child in disguise ) with big brown eyes and a pout that can make you kill for him.

"Of course it's okay. It's your day angel, we're celebrating you. We can stay at home, of course." You had assured him "But there must be something fun that you want to do, no? You can't spend your birthday stuck at home with me all day. That'll get boring, Junnie"

"Never"

So that is what led you to this situation - slipping out of bed at six in the morning to quietly make your way into the living room.

In hopes of not disturbing Junhui who's still curled up on his side, soft hair falling to his face as he sleeps, you grab your clothes and make your way to the guest washroom to get ready for the day.

Once you're done with your shower, you pad into the kitchen to start breakfast. The pancake mix had been sitting in the fridge already so you turn on the stove before pulling out a batch of berries you'd picked up from the market yesterday. And as quietly and fast as you could, you get the signature pancakes with blueberry eyes and whipped cream smiles done before he wakes up.

It's almost seven when you're cleaning up the kitchen, the plate of breakfast sitting on the counter next to a large gift bag and a pink envelope addressed to my moon.

My moon,

Hi, my angel. By the time you find this, I'd probably be out of the house. If not I'm probably hiding behind the couch but don't look for me there. I know you don't like waking up to an empty house but I promise love, I'm just out to get you some flowers. That's an excuse for you know I can't stand the sight of you even slightly sad and that's why I ran.

But I'll be back with your flowers before you even realize I'm gone, okay? Don't worry too much pretty boy.

You know that I'm not good with words, Jun, that's why I'm writing a letter in the first place. If only I had the guts to say all this to your face. Because you deserve nothing else, baby, nothing else. But I'm a coward when it comes to voicing out my love to you so here I am in the kitchen at three in the morning, two glasses of wine deep because I'm scared I'll mess this up if I'm sober or if it's not dark outside.

So, it's your birthday today - and no matter how many times you ask me to be normal about it and not call it your womb escape anniversary and make a whole scene - you know I'm going to

When else am I going to celebrate you, my Jun?

You know that if I could, I would, everyday for the rest of my life. Because you deserve nothing less than that.

Sometimes you say that you don't deserve me, or that I'm too good for you. And it makes me so sad because, Jun, what you don't realize is how lucky I am to have you in my life. If anything, I'm not good enough for you.

When I met you years ago, you still in your bleached hair, I never thought for a moment that you'd be the person I'd want to spend the rest of my life with. Not because I never saw you as someone I'd want to share my life with, but rather because how? How in the world can I call you, the kindest, the prettiest and the most beautiful soul I've ever met, mine.

Every single day that I wake up to you lying next to me, I thank the moon for bringing you to me. I don't know what good I'd done in my past life to have this kind of love, have you in my life.

I hadn't realised something was missing from my life till you showed up in front of me, Jun. With your silly little smile and your pretty face and the bounce in your step, you slowly opened the door to a world I had never even known to exist before. I hadn't realised what it meant to love until you came along angel.

I thought I'd been in love, before, you know? I thought love was fancy dinners in restaurants I couldn't afford for a night. I thought love was kisses that you share for the whole world to see. I thought it was going our my way to make myself better for someone else.

But, no.

You're the one who showed me that love is the 'good morning' you mumble around a toothbrush, the leftovers you put in the microwave for me, the sticky notes on the fridge, sending pictures of the sky even if it looks ordinary, the hair tie you keep around your wrist. Love is the way you follow me around the house, the way I cling to you when I come home. Love is putting a blanket on me when I fall asleep on the couch. Love is raising little pixel babies and running a shop in cats & soup.

I think loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done, Junhui. It comes to me as natural as breathing. I didn't need a handler or a guidebook to learn how to love you - actually, I don't think I learned at all. Loving you was so easy that I didn't even realize I did. I didn't realize how much I loved you until I thought about losing you.

You asked me once what my biggest fear was and I said heights because I'm a coward like that. But in truth, a life without you is my biggest fear, I think. Now that I have you, now that I've gotten a taste of what being loved by you feels like, I don't think I'll ever want to let you go. I'm scared I'll never want to let you go. I hope you never want to let me go either, my love. I don't think I'll ever be okay with that.

People like you and me, we don't let ourselves have nice things, Jun. We think it's a burden to be loved, to love. We think it's too much to want to be held and cared for. We think we don't deserve to be loved. But we do. We can have that, my love. You, me, we all deserved to be loved gently. We all deserve the impromptu flowers and the good night message and the 'I love you's. It's hard to not listen to the tiny voice in the back of your head saying you don't deserve this, but you do, Junhui. You deserve to be loved for your soul if not much more.

As much as you don't believe me when I say you're the best thing that happened to me, deep down we both know that each other is what keeps us grounded, we both know. You keep me afloat, Junhui. When I feel like a ship wrecked in the middle of the ocean, you're the one who keeps me afloat and guides me to the shore. You might not know it or not believe it, but without you, I'd be falling apart.

Without me, I believe you would be okay. Manage. But ultimately, I wouldn't be okay without you.

So, as selfish as it sounds, I'm going to let myself have this one thing for the rest of my life. I'm going to keep you next to my heart and love you for as long as you let me have you.

Selfishly, I can only ask you to do the same. Love me as long as you can, keep me in your heart for as long as you can, my moon.

Happy Birthday, angel. I love you for an eternity.

From earth, to the moon, underwater, on shore, with every star in the galaxy, I will love you with everything I have till we're foods for the worms to eat.

Yours forever.

You knew it was going to make him cry, you knew. That's one of the main reasons you left the house with an excuse to get flowers. You could have gotten the goddamn flowers delivered to your doorstep. Hell, you could have even done it yesterday. But if there was anything you hated, it was seeing Junhui cry. So running away with a flimsy excuse seemed like the best thing to do at the time.

Junhui knew it too - how much it pained you to see him cry. He also knew that it had taken a lot out of you to write that letter. You've never been comfortable with professing your feelings into words and voicing them upright. You showed your love through random gifts thrown his way with a shy 'saw this and thought about you' or occasional 'did you eat?' messages throughout the day that translated into a quiet I love you.

Your love was quiet, but it was strong.

It seeps from you and circles around his whole being, holding him tight until he's grounded to the very earth he stands on. It kept him whole, kept him together.

So this, writing down everything on your mind, two drinks in or not, he knows it must have taken a lot out of you. And the mere thought of you sitting in the kitchen with your head in your hands, trying to turn your feelings into words, destroyed him.

He knows he should have stopped crying when he hears the familiar sound of the front door opening. You're back. You're back and god, he needs to get himself together.

"Jun?"

You call out and he can hear the hesitance in your voice. You know he's read the letter and it breaks him to realize that you're probably nervous to face him after such a vulnerable pour of emotions. He wishes he could stop crying but it's so so hard when the words on the paper made him feel like he got stabbed in the heart. And the way some words were blotched in a way only tears could do, twister the knife in the wound even more.

So, here he is now, bleeding on the kitchen counter because he feels loved more than he has ever felt in his entire life of twenty-eight years.

"Jun"

You stand in front of him, lingering in the kitchen door as your face falls at the sight of him. He guesses he doesn't look his best right now. He's bracing himself up against the counter, trying not to fall even more apart as his fingers grip the letter. Valid.

He can't even answer you, let alone acknowledge you. He's still trying to stop his crying and failing miserably right in front of you.

Junhui watches as you carefully approach him with the bouquet you had brought home for him. It's a mix of daisies and baby's breath wrapped in a see-through paper and Junhui thinks it's so pretty. If he wasn't so preoccupied with his sobbing, he would have bounced up to you and accepted it with a big smile and a kiss on your cheek.

"You're crying" Junhui almost laughs as you blindly state the obvious. Your eyes are wide as you reach him, the bouquet still in your clutch. "Why are you crying"

"You're the one who made me cry" He says through his tears, tone accusatory. "This letter- what you wrote, yn it's- It's so...I don't even know- god"

With the force he throws himself at you, he's surprised you manage to stay upright. Junhui curls around your body, arms winding around your frame as he pushes his face to your neck. You can feel the way your skin dampens with his tears.

Carefully putting down the bouquet on the counter, you circle your arms around his shoulders and pull him into your embrace a little tighter.

"I didn't want to cry on my birthday" Junhui whispers, lips fluttering against your skin.

I'm sorry. "I'm not sorry, Jun"

You feel him still in your hold for a fleeting moment before he pulls back to look at your face.

"I'd wanted to say all that for a long time, Jun" You say as you bring a hand up to cradle his face. As always, he leans into it like a preening cat. "I'm sorry for making you cry. But I'm not sorry for anything I said"

Junhui lurches forward to hide his face again, another one of those heartbreaking sobs on the tip of his tongue. You hold him tighter, if it's even possible, as he breaks down on you. One hand rubbing comforting circles on his back, moving the both of you back and forth in a rhythm, you hold him until he's calmed down enough to breathe through his nose. When he pulls away this time, his face is crumpled in a kind of embarrassment and shyness.

"Oh, my baby" You can't help but coo at the sight of his flushed nose and damp eyes. "You're a wreck"

"Your fault" Junhui grumbles before bringing up a hand to wipe at his eyes. You chuckle as you cradle his face and wipe away the tears clinging to his cheek.

"Happy Birthday" You almost whisper, holding his face in the palms of your hand. "You look beautiful"

Junhui averts his eyes from yours, the shyness slithering up his spine at a rapid speed. He doesn't voice out his thank you but it shows in the way the tips of his ears turn red under wisps of soft brown hair.

"Oh- the flowers" You quickly move to pick up the bouquet from the counter. With a coy smile of your own, you hand it to Junhui who takes it with a smile and a soft,

"Thank you. They're so pretty"

Junhui is taller than you, so to land the kiss perfectly square on his forehead, you have to reach up on your tiptoes. Junhui laughs and ducks down when he realizes what you're trying to do. Lifting to hold him by the neck, you press your lips against his forehead.

Junhui only pulls you back in after putting away the bouquet. He takes you by the waist before leaning down to catch your lips with his, pressing forward and dripping honey sweet pure love onto you with a sealed kiss. Your hands cradle the back of his neck as he leans forward, tipping you ever so slightly backwards as his love bleeds through every press of his lips against yours.

Even when he pulls away to breathe, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, holding you as close as he possibly could.

"I love you so much" You whisper. "I think I made that clear in the letter"

Junhui laughs before pulling you into a hug again. A proper one this time with your face pressed to his shoulder and his lips pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

Your fingers unconsciously grip the back of his shirt tightly like you're scared he'll disappear into the day before you. It makes him think back to what you're written on the letter. About how your biggest fear is a life without him. How you won't be able to live if you didn't have him.

And it makes Junhui come to a realisation of his own. Ultimately, he wouldn't be okay without you either.

Thinking back to how you had claimed you're going to keep holding on to him as long as you can, as selfish as it may sound, Junhui realises that yeah, this is what love means to him. This is the sole reason he's been standing for so long.

Even though there's still a voice in the back of his head screaming that he doesn't deserve this kind of love, he decides that yes, he's going to let himself have this. The pure need to selfishly love you for the rest of your lives overpowers whatever voice screaming at him anyway.

From earth, to the moon, underwater, on shore, with every star in the galaxy, he's going to hold on to this for as long as he can bear. Because there's nothing more he wants than to love you with everything he's got. All until you're food for the worms to eat.

Junhui, true to your words, very selfishly hopes that you keep his hands in yours and your heart in his until your fingers decompose.

For you're his forever as well.

[heavenlymorals]

Why are you always trying to paint Arthur as a misogynist? When he clearly isn't??? I like your posts by why do you hyper fixate on stuff like that?

Hello anon and thanks for the ask.

Well, quite simply, I "paint" Arthur as someone who actively believes in and enforces gender roles because he does so in the game. It's a part of his writing and his character. The canon Arthur is NOTHING like how the fandom here on Tumblr portrays him as. That's also a reason why I started making these posts because I honestly hate when fanon becomes the accepted truth of characters and not the actual canon. It happens all the time.

I'm a very pragmatic person and this will show in my posts. I don't care about what characters COULD be and I focus more on what they ACTUALLY are. That's why my retrospective posts are usually looked at through a psychological, sociological, cultural, feminist, and/or literary point of view. I look at characters and learn things about them through their actions and words, as well as the time period that they are a part of. I do not care at all about making characters seem morally better, especially when it comes to historical attitudes because those historical attitudes aren't as historical as we make them out to be.

They still affect us every single day and only recently have we started pushing back- that's also not mentioning cultures where these attitudes are STILL encouraged, which then changes the way people think. Understanding historical attitudes allows us to understand not only our own cultures better, but people as well and why they do the things they do.

Now let's talk about Arthur. Arthur is a man born in 1863. Women couldn't even get a credit card by themselves without a man till 1974. To put it quite simply, he lived in a time era where women had almost 0 rights and those women who did succeed in life usually had some sort of male support. People supported this system, both male and female. Did you know that when the suffrage movement began, most American women didn't give a fuck because they believed that was men's duties, not their own? Point is is that even if Arthur is a lot more lenient regarding this stuff, he still actively believes in it because of how pungent it was in the society he lived in.

The first mission we have with the female gang members is heading to Valentine. The first thing he says to them is whether Miss Grimshaw could spare them from their domestic chores, already showing that in the gang, the girls' main duty is the domestic work and that Arthur supports this. Later in that mission, when he chases down Jimmy Brooks, he puts Uncle in charge of bringing them back home, even though he is an old ass man and they are three young, healthy, and capable women. In one mission, you got two examples of Arthur being an active encourager of gender roles.

And then there is Sadie- when she expresses her frustration over the work she has to do, he tries to shut her down. When she gets her pants, he mocks her: "You get a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" When she asks Dutch when she can go robbing with them, both him and Dutch laugh her off. When they bust John out of prison, he does it with her cuz literally no one else would help him and when they escape on the boat, he gets visibly annoyed that she doesn't take his hand. There are even more examples of things like this when he antagonizes her, but that's just the main game.

And there is the antagonizations of women performers. "Women shouldn't be doing this." "Go make someone some supper." "Go back to the kitchen." "This ain't ladylike." I'm sorry, but these need no explanations. His antagonize lines are just as canon as his greet lines and the fact that he says stuff like that shows that he believes in gender roles. It's an active part of his belief system.

There are so many more examples of this and the majority of them are subtle but I come from a culture that still treats its women like the 1800s treated theirs so when I ever pick up on these things, it's cuz I've lived it before.

And my final point- this is a historical game. Rockstar made sure to be as accurate as they can in regards to the time period- so characters not only react to historical attitudes but they are a part of it as well. Same goes for Arthur. He's a historical character with a historical background and historical attitudes- and that comes with the good, like chivalry, and the bad, sexism. You shouldn't play a game like RDR if you're expecting characters to feel modern in their thought processes.

Thank you and have a great day.

[kimingyuslover]

Missed Connections

Synopsis : You swear you can tolerate anything because this is an unwanted marriage to him, but why's this one hurts so much?

Word count : 2,716

pairing : Choi seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre : arranged marriage!au, contract marriage!au, strangers to *** ***** ***** to exes, angst, slight fluff.

Warnings : angst, tears, italic means person on the other side of the phone & message, chaebol!reader, chaebol!seungcheol, ceo!reader, ceo!seungcheol (not mentioned), like 1 curse word, Seungcheol is a jerk boo 🍅🍅, mentions of pregnancy (reader is pregnant), mom!reader, slight Joshua x reader, this fic does not represent his character in real life!

a.n : yes, i cried while writing this, Seungcheol's sucks

The sun peeked through the window of his bedroom, which once was shared with you. He opens his eyes groggily, his eyes adjusting the sunlight that goes to his eyes.

Surprise, it's a word that will describe his expression right now, seeing a divorce file on his nightstand with a pen on top of the paper, lying peacefully waiting to be used by him.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles with his raspy and sleepy voice.

He thinks he might be dreaming, that when he sleeps again and opens his eyes, you're on his side while he's hugging you tightly, his morning will start with your kisses and this all was just in his head.

But it's not. When he slaps his cheek, it hurts. It feels so real.

And then, when he realised that the divorce file was real, he hurriedly searched for his phone, wanting to call the person he knew so well but also didn't.

“The divorce paper, you've already signed it? i'll pick up my stuff and take the paper with my lawyer” you said on the other side, voice sounding so enchanting, so cold, like he never heard before.

Your voice usually sounds like it's coated with warmth and sweetness, but now it's just filled with coldness.

he forgot when he first saw you, you were given the cliche title ‘ice queen’ by the employers.

“Why’s there a divorce paper on my nightstand? Why are you not here? In the bed, with me” Seungcheol said, hurt evident in his voice.

“What do you think seungcheol? you're finally free, you can go out as much as you want with your so-called friends, you don't have to worry that head more, our company will still be concerted, and the best part, you can go freely with that woman of yours” Seungcheol furrowed his eyebrows with confusion.

“Why–

you cut him off before he even speaks, “i call off our arranged marriage, Seungcheol. you said it yourself, that you, Mr. Choi, does not want this marriage from the first you saw me, and that was proven when I saw you with a woman, in a fancy restaurant, just both of you, not with anyone else and I learned the fact that your friends told you to do that.

Our arguments will lead to one of us leaving the house that once you promised we'll build together with love, and I just have to be patient. When I saw you with her, I realised that was the beginning of our marriage's downfall, so I made the decision that would not leave negative comments from everybody else, so your company will not have a backlash from the stockholders even if it's hurting me in the process.

You promised me, Choi Seungcheol. to take care of me, try to love me, and even have the audacity to tell me to be patient with your heart. I've done all of that, but what you have given me is just aching in my heart over and over again.

My friends already told me that this marriage was bad for me and will hurt me in the end, but I'm blinded by your love bombing act, and I was so naive that I thought you will ever love me back, that we will have a happy family, with 4 children, 3 boys and 1 girl. we'll live anywhere i want, you said back then.

Do you know how much I cried that night? when I saw you with her, and when I knew that you and we would never have the happy family we once planned?

That day, I was going to tell you about me getting pregnant, but I guess fate doesn't want us to be together because they know it’s better for me to hurt now than later.

Tomorrow will be the last time i'm going to go there, and the final court will be the last time I saw you” after finishing the words that you've planned to give him right when he calls you, you hung up the phone, not giving him any chance to replied because you know, when you heard his voice your heart will hurt more.

Seungcheol drops his phone onto his bed sheet. He tries to recall the memory, and when he does, there's a hard pang in his heart.

regret started to fill up his figure, and he rushed towards the bathroom to take a shower.

He's planning to meet you today to talk about your marriage, hopefully not for the last time.

“Is Mrs. Choi here?” Seungcheol said to the receptionist at your company.

She hesitates at first, then starts to speak, “i'm sorry, but it's Ms. Hong and she does not want anybody, especially you, Mr. Choi to go to her” she says.

Seungcheol has tried to call you again and again and again, determined to fix the marriage he ruined.

and his heart hurts even more when he reads your chatroom. It's him who sent the last message, and you left him on read.

You know what? you're too naive, too invested in our relationship, and that's why it's not working. Can't you be more patient? i have my own things to do

He knew he was being a jerk when he sent that to you, but back then, he's heating up because of your arguments that are constantly happening.

Tears start to fall from his eyes, all you need is love, to which he promised will give you his, he should be grateful that you still give chance after chance even though you know that he will still be like that.

he drives to your penthouse, your summer house, your cabin, and even your house, but you're not there.

as he went to his car with disappointment on his face, someone called his name.

“What are you doing here, Seungcheol?” He freezes and it hurts. You usually call him with terms of endearment, but now you just call him by his name, which he hates so much if it's coming from your mouth.

Seungcheol runs to you. Wanted to hug you, but he halted his plan when he saw you looking at him like you used to before he was introduced by your parents as your soon-to-be husband, so cold with no emotion behind that oculus of yours.

He explains everything, telling you that his friend makes him go on lunch with the woman you saw. He even goes as far as kneeling in front of you.

“But you still go on a date with her? Even when you don't want to? i've said it to you countless times. i can tolerate anything because this is an arranged marriage, but cheating is an exception” you said while looking down at him because of his position. You don't even bother to usher him to get up from his knees. Seungcheol frowns at your words, but you're right. When his friend told him, he could refuse it, but he didn't.

His words caught up on his throat. He can't say anything anymore, because at the end of the day, he knew that his action was so sinful because for god damn sake, he's married to you!

“You're funny, Choi Seungcheol” You left him kneeling on the ground while going back to your car. You managed to hold your tears in front of him because you're not willing to let your tears fall for a boy who's not even a man.

When you're already gone with your car, Seungcheol gets up to his knees, and he realises that he hasn't even asked about the baby.

“Don't worry, my love, mommy will protect you, no matter what” you said while caressing your baby bump.

It's been approximately 4 months of your pregnancy, and 4 months since you're not on the same roof with Seungcheol.

You know you'll stress out yourself if you stay in that house, and you can't risk that.

You've been staying in a hotel for the past months, but luckily for you, your sister-in-law has a 5 star hotel, so you won't have to search for it.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

The first court is today, and you're going there with your lawyer and your sister-in-law (Soo-jung) because she says she wants to help you, and you thanked her for that.

You show up with a white dress, black blazer, your Jimmy choo pumps, and white birkin as the cherry on top.

Seungcheol saw you with adoration in his eyes, thinking, "Why can't he see you like this when your marriage is still there?”

He doesn't want to make eye contact with anyone with you and yourself, but when he does make an eye contact with Soo-jung or you he will divert his eyes to look somewhere that isn't you or her.

He's scared, what even your family will think about his family, about him? after he hurt you and you being pregnant was not helping.

Now it's your final court. This time, you dress differently, you're wearing white shorts, a brown thin belt, soft-pink Ralph Lauren button-up, a white lady dior, and a white slingback kitten heels with your baby bump that's already showing.

He feels guilt start building up in his body when the judge knocks his hammer three times, and he's trying his best not to spill his tears every second now.

he hears several footsteps going to him when he looks at you with his tear filled eyes.

you open your mouth while crossing your hands in front of your chest, then you speak, “Take care of your health, don't eat junk food like you liked to, this baby will get a new father soon, but i will still introduce you to them”

As soon as you finish your sentence, you start to walk away with your lawyer, brother, and sister-in-law (who gives him a disappointed and angry look).

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

It's been years since your divorce, but Seungcheol is still a mess. He can't blame anyone but himself for this one.

After the divorce, he cut all of his friends who told him to go on a date that day. He’s in denial for years, even when he knows that they're giving a bad influence to him.

He goes on a lot of interviews, and he never fails to mention to you in his interview, hoping you will see him on tv shows and better yet, with his child.

You, on the other hand, are already living your best life with your son, you’ve given birth to him 4 and a half years ago, and now he's your most favorite person in this universe.

You decide to move to Switzerland when Minjun– your son (Hong Minjun, Edward Hong) turns 1 year old.

There you met Minjun's dad, who happens to have the same surname as yours, Joshua Hong or Hong Jisoo because that's his Korean name.

You hesitate at first to be in a commitment because of your past, but Joshua makes it clear that you can trust him, and everything will be fine.

Joshua is a gentleman, a man who you dreamed off everytime you doze off, a man of words and action, and you really want Minjun to be like him when he's older.

Minjun characteristics start showing up lately, and just as you expected, he's already being a mini gentleman to you, and the manner that you and Joshua taught him is prominent with his actions and words.

You're proud of him, and you finally get your highest dream.

Having a happy family has been your dream for as long as you can remember, even when Joshua's not Minjun's biological father, but he acts like one and Minjun, too, acts like Joshua's biological son.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Joshua decided that this month he and you will go back to Korea for the Christmas holiday, because for the last 3 years it's always been your family to come to Switzerland.

You can't forget how happy your parents and your brother's family look when they see you coming home with Minjun and Joshua.

“I miss my daughter so much. How have you been, sweetheart?” your mother said while hugging you, which you replied with a ‘i'm fine, mother’ and a wide smile on your face.

The next day, you're going to have a visit to your company in Seoul, and so you bring Minjun with you because Joshua is having a meeting and probably will be back at dawn.

“Minjun, are you excited to see mommy's office?” you ask Minjun when the light goes red, which Minjun replies with an excited nod and wide grins, “yes! I am so excited!” Minjun said with Korean and an accent.

The security, receptionist and your workers still remember you, they even try to get in a conversation with Minjun which brings a smile to your face.

“Minjun, will you wait here in Mommy's office while Mommy is getting our lunch?” you said while crothed to his height and holding both of his tiny hands.

Minjun nodded at your words, “can i play with secretary Jeon Mommy?” he asked, and this time it's your turn to nod your head, “yes, you can”

You already told your secretary to watch Minjun, so you don't need to worry.

You walk to the café near your company building, it's been your favorite place since you moved to this branch of your company.

When you get your order, you take a seat on the side of the road.

Not so long after, there's someone who sat in front of you, and when you saw him you furrowed your eyebrows.

“What are you doing here, Seungcheol?” The same question from those years threw Seungcheol off guard, the bad memories he never wants to remember.

“This used to be, or is it still your favorite place to go for lunch, and i miss you so i came here, what i didn't expect is you're going to be here” Seungcheol said, there's defeated plastered on his face.

“How's your life?” You begin, so the tension can be lowered a bit.

“Messed up, after our divorce. How's yours?” he replied with simplicity.

“Amazing. He's 4 and a half now, his name is Hong Minjun and since i'm not living in Korea he uses his foreign name too, Edward Hong” you said referring to the baby you carried when you're getting a divorce with him.

“Where is he?”

“Playing with secretary Jeon”

“I think i can't do this anymore, I'm sorry, i was an asshole back then. I swear I changed! just give me a chance, please” Desperate sounds so clear, and you look at him in disapproval.

“I have given you chances, over and over, but you throw it away like it meant nothing”

Even after you replied to him with that, he still begged you to come back to him, tears in his eyes mirroring how desperate he is.

He is still doing it until someone calls your name and a little boy runs to you, calling you mommy.

That's when he realised in front of him is his son, that he failed to protect.

And when he gets up when he sees you do the same, he turns his head to the man who calls your name.

There's when his heart drops to his stomach, thoughts running a hundred miles per hour, thinking of the worst scenario in his head, that the man in front of him is your—

“Y/n's husband, Joshua Hong”

Your husband, and that means he never got the chance to make you his anymore.

The tension can be seen by anyone passing by, an ex-husband who hurt his ex-wife deeply, and the current husband who treats his wife like a princess.

Joshua breaks the awkward silence after Seungcheol introduces himself with, “Let’s go, my love, your mother sends a location to the restaurant we're going to eat for lunch” with a smile that Seungcheol swears he wants to rip from Joshua’s kind face.

You replied to Joshua with a smile, and you three excuses yourself from Seungcheol and went to Joshua’s car.

Seungcheol had his heart broken again, and the reason is still the same.

You.

Oh, there's addition for the cause of his broken heart.

You and Minjun.

[toomuchracket]

I need to see that bitch (bday party matty) jealous. Maybe you’re at an event or something and you meet this editor guy you used to have a fling with and he sees how amicable the guy is being and just, let’s say, get handsy

Pretty pleaseeee 🫶

jealous bday party matty literally be still my beating heart. you don't wanna blindside him, so a little while before the event day itself you let your boyfriend know that a literary agent ex of yours is likely going too because one of his authors is nominated for an award - you also let him know that it wasn't a serious thing at all, short, amicable breakup because you didn't really feel anything for the guy past vaguely fancying and liking, and you haven't spoken to him in a year. matty nods along and stays chill on the surface, but internally he can't help seething a little bit; he never met this ex of yours (it really was a short relationship), but he remembers mutual friends gushing about how nice he is and how happy you were, remembers looking him up online one lonely drunken night and thinking how insipid he was and how wrong he was for you, remembers developing a short-lived loathing of the man simply because he was with you, the actual love of matty's life. but whatever. matty's the one you love, the one whose arms you fall asleep in, the one you know for a fact you're going to grow old with, and this guy is nothing and nobody. so you go to the event, and it's fine, it's good, it's lovely, until the ex (wearing a wedding ring, mind you) comes over and gives you a friendly hug hello and says "you look gorgeous, as ever! how are you?", and matty's vision literally tints green. through some grace of god, or whatever, he manages to remain cordial to the man in the less than five minutes you chat to him, forcing a smile when the guy says he's happy for you both and you're great together - as soon as he fucks off and you lead matty to the bar, your boyfriend's arms are hugging you from behind, and he's leaning down to press a less-than-chaste kiss to your neck while you wait for your french martinis. you smirk, turning your head to kiss matty quickly, giggling into him when he deepens the kiss and murmuring "matthew, people are going to talk if we keep this up", and he's like "so? i wanna kiss my girl"; unfortunately for him, the drinks arrive, and you have to take your seats for the event starting. thank christ you're not actually doing anything more than showing face as a former winner tonight, by the way, because you'd have a pretty hard time extracting matty's hand from your thigh under the table if you needed to move - over the course of the night, that hand makes its way further and further under your clothes, first your dress and then your thong, and following your subtle nod your boyfriend's fingers find their way to your clit and inside you, working deftly to bring you to an orgasm muffled by your hand and applause for whoever just one the prize of the night. the smirk doesn't leave his face (until you get home and sit on it) after that, and gets even wider when he, um, gives your ex a goodbye handshake, before turning to walk to the car with you snuggled into him and his other hand resting on your ass. yeah. that's a fun night, both the event and you proving to matty he's the only one for you when you get home by letting him cum inside you. hot <3

[quartzalynlove]

Dating Goro Majima Would Include

Pairing: Majima x fem! Reader

Summary: dating our favorite crazy eyepatch man

A/n: I knew the second I saw this man that he'd make me post about him

WARNINGS: N/A

Your honor if this isn't a gift giving man idk what is

He's buying whatever your eye lingers on for more than a second

Or getting random clothes he wants to see you in

And you better not get caught looking too good around him because he's gonna get rabid

The strength of Mr Shakedown couldn't pull him off of you

He'll cling onto you and all but try to eat you

When you finally push him off he'll get all pouty so you'll have to let him know that he can get all clingy later

Definitely shows you off

There's not a member of the Tojo Clan that doesn't know Majima's girl

You could walk right in and out of HQ just to say "hi" unscathed because who's getting in the way of Majima and his girl?

No one that values their life that's for sure

Kisses are sloppy and open mouth

I swear all that junk food has him nutrient deficient

I wouldn't be surprised if he's a biter too

But he lives for all that soft crap

Throw him off with a sweet, chaste kiss and he might start rattling like a cartoon character

I think he'd love anyone that matches his crazy even a little bit

Like having a few screws loose makes you just perfect for him

He'd play into the dog thing

Not even in a suggestive way, mostly just for the plot

"Trust me, darlin', I live up ta both parts of my name!"

Head scratches, curling in your lap

He might even growl a little into your neck if you've got a new perfume on

It's to prove a point but he does love it if you're the one doing it

He'd probably let you walk him on a leash if you felt like it

Physical touch is definitely his second biggest love language

He holds you like he's trying to absorb into your skin

Inhaling your essence with the desperate hope that part of you is coming to dwell in him with each breath

If you tease him about how soft he is with you, he'll brush it off, but the truth is that you're the whole world to him

In a life that's always moving and changing, you're his gorgeous, brilliant constant, and he cherishes that

He loves his crazy life, but watching you fade into view each day as the soft morning light spills in around you? That's the reason he keeps going.

He's also clingy because he's a little scared as well

The only person crazier than him must be whoever chose to be with him

He may be a force of nature in the yakuza, but he still can't control what each day may throw at the two of you

Whatever it may be seems to melt away when he comes home to you, though

Just by watching you he can see the rest of his life clearly and not the day to day antics he constructs on whims

He can see himself leaving everything behind and leading a domestic life

But that may be his most insane fantasy yet

[strwbrryeyes]

can u do daichi and/or tsuki x tennis player! reader who plays singles (1v1 instead of doubles which is 2v2 lool)? hcs or fic would be fine :3 esp w a reader who hurt their wrist mid season n is rlly frustrated bcus they can’t play until next season unless their wrist gets better bcus that happened to me <//3 (i play anyway even if my wrist is shit bcus i love tennis; daichi would scold me so bad for it too <//3) thank uuuu, i think u mentioned exams (or finals idk the difference) in ur latest posts so i hope they went well!!!

𖦹°｡⋆ Wristache and heartache (daichi x reader)

⟡ cw: angst, reader has an injusry and feels hopeless, comfort, fluff, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ a/n: i dont know anything about tennis. im alos bad with titles.

Daichi Sawamura had always admired your dedication to tennis. As the captain of the Karasuno volleyball team, he understood the love and passion that athletes carried for their sport. Daichi also knew the importance of listening to your body, something you seemed to be struggling with ever since you badly injured your wrist.

The injury has been a big  setback and it was starting to take a toll on you. The season was in full swing, and you were supposed to be playing singles matches, something you were no doubt the best at. Yet here you were, on the sidelines, forced to sit out due to the sharp pain in your wrist. You couldn’t even try to step foot onto the court during games or team practice because your coach had made it clear: no matches until you were fully healed and cleared by the doctor and although this decision was the right one and a necessary one, it still left you feeling frustrated and heartbroken.

Despite the pain and coach’s orders, you couldn't stay away from the court for too long. Every day after school, you'd find yourself at the community center’s tennis courts, practicing your serves and forehands, wincing occasionally when the pain shot through your wrist. You knew it was risky, but tennis was your entire life and ticket to a scholarship for university. You couldn't afford to be away from it for possibly the rest of the season. However, your secret trips to the tennis court were short lived.

Daichi watched you from a distance one afternoon, his brows furrowing with concern. He had come to pick you up like he has been for the last few day, but seeing you push yourself despite your injury was beginning to worry him more than usual. He approached you slowly, hands in his pockets, trying to find the right words.

“[name],” Daichi calls out with a firm voice that had a hint of worry “we need to talk.”

You looked up, surprised to see him there. You hadn't expected him to come this early. "Hey, Daichi. Just give me a few more minutes. I need to work on my backhand." You said before turning back to throw a tennis ball into the air until Daichi took the tennis racket away from you.

Daichi shook his head, his expression stern. "No, we need to talk now. You're pushing yourself too hard. You need to rest."

You sighed, frustration bubbling up inside you. "I can't just sit around and do nothing, Daichi. Tennis means everything to me. If I don't practice, I'll lose all I’ve worked for these past three years!" you say as you snatch your racket back from him.

He walked over to you, taking the racket from your hand gently once again and setting it aside. "And what good is practicing if it only makes your injury worse? You won't be able to play at all if you don't let your wrist heal and then that’ll make you feel worse!”

"But what if I never get better? What if this is it for me?" Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes as you shout at Daichi.

Daichi's expression softened. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. "You will get better but to do so, you have to be patient. I know it's hard and the last thing you want to do right now, but sometimes the best way to keep going is to take a step back and heal. I'm here for you, and I am sure your team is too. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I just miss it so much, Daichi. I feel so useless." You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words, allowing you to let a few tears roll down your face.

"You're not useless," he assured you, his thumbs brushing away your tears. "You're one of the strongest people I know. Strength isn't just about pushing through pain, it's also about knowing when to rest and take care of yourself."

You nodded, his words sinking in. "Okay," you whispered. "I'll try to rest more."

Daichi smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "That's my girl. And don't worry, I'll make sure you stay out of trouble."

You chuckled softly, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I'm counting on you."

The following weeks were a test of your patience but as promised, Daichi kept a close eye on you, making sure you followed the doctor's orders and rested your wrist and the rest of your body, making sure you were fully relaxed and at ease. It wasn't easy, and there were days when you felt like giving up, but Daichi's support helped you stay strong the whole way through.

He'd often join you at the courts, not to practice but to keep you company as you watched your team practice while you were on the sidelines. He'd even bring his volleyball team along, turning your forced downtime into fun, supportive gatherings as everyone loved their captain’s sweet girlfriend. It wasn't the same as playing tennis with your team in the moment, but it reminded you that you had a strong support system no matter where you went, and that made you feel so much better about this tennis break.

Slowly but surely, your wrist began to heal and you started feeling better. The day you were finally cleared to play again was a moment of pure happiness, not just for you, but for everyone who had supported you through this slump and setback.

As you stepped onto the court for your first match back, you looked over to the sidelines where Daichi stood along with his own team, cheering you on with a proud smile. You knew you couldn't have made it through without him. 

And as the match started, all you could feel was happiness, determination, and most importantly, thankful for your loving boyfriend who was there for you every step of the way because without him, you aren’t sure you would have made it through these last few weeks.

With Daichi by your side, you can do anything.

[wachtelspinat]

hi! i found your blog like an hour ago (though i've been familiar with your art for a /long/ time; when i read that ask you got earlier about you being THE tf2 artist, i thought to myself, "wow, really? the only tf2 art i can think of that's deserving of that description is [vividly pictures YOUR fanart]" -- so when i checked your art tag it was genuinely like encountering a celebrity, heh. all this to say, you really ARE The TF2 Artist. it's an honor to finally properly follow your blog :]). i've been reading your posts about your personal journeys (both physical and emotional/self-conceptual) and i've just been... really really moved by it all? your openness with feeling disconnected with your art, and then how you've slowly come to reconnect with it in a new way and restructure it back into your life... it just fills me with so much catharsis and hope. because life is hectic and things change so much and the way that one creates art as an adult is going to be different than how one created art as a teenager... so to see you acknowledge that fact and then share your own journey? ahh god like i said... it's really profound. i'm a lot younger than you (i turn 20 next month, actually!), so you've experienced so much more to life than me, and hearing how you've struggled with and then gotten out of so many of the fears that i have is just... deeply, deeply inspiring to me. especially your latest posts about your time in australia, and how it's always been something you've wanted to do but spent so many years stuck/anxious/stagnant... and how now you've finally actually *done it* and it's *real* and that you had the most amazing incredible time that exceeded all your expectations?!?! and not only that, but how finally achieving this thing you've always wanted changes the narrative of how you previously defined yourself... that now maybe you ARE the sort of person who can do the things you love and have the things that make you happy... maybe i'm projecting too much here heh god but my point is. it just made me very emotional and so VERY very utterly elated for you :'] and just augh. i am so glad you've had this incredible experience. and like i've said half a dozen times by now (because it's just so true) it is just. so inspiring to me. everything you've shared with such honesty and humanity has been just so profoundly moving to see and it fills me with so much hope. thank you for sharing your journey with us, and thank you as always, past and present and future, for your art. i hope this message isn't too terribly parasocial, and if it is, i apologize ;_; and i hope you're having a lovely day!!!

hey there !

this kind of hit me like a truck but in the most positive way, and i am not exaggerating when i say what you wrote also brought me to tears.

first of all thanks for your generous words regarding my art and sdkjfhkjas i still cannot wrap my head around the idea that you (and at least one other person) thinks about me as THE tf2 artist because... i like my art just fine, it's just there are other folks out there, with their almost god-like tf2 art, meanwhile i just spammed y'all with my sniperxspy art and some random silly stuff over the years... but i love it, so thank you so so much, the thought that you guys dig my art this much will always knock me right off my feet in the most positive way 🧡🧡🧡

ok so, the next part took me a while to formulate because how do i respond to such a heartfelt message in a way that shows my gratitude just right? like i want to thank you again for reaching out and writing all this, but also for taking your time and reading through my blog. i know that everything i post here is open to the internet and a lot of ppl, so sharing personal information (in form of updates in life) is not always the best idea. but i always admired ppl on here that were able to reflect on their lives and share what they've learned. even if it's just somethig as simple as "and after each day comes another and it will be different, for the worse or the better, but different at least", which, falling on the right ears at a specific time, can change perspective (it did for me on multiple occasions, this and other takes, because hearing from ppl who go through similar things is a sad reality, but also such a connecting experience). so in a way, sharing is caring, and so talking about life experiences, especially when they are kind of abstract, like art blocks, depressions, can really open some unexpected doors.

so what also happened after being open about vulnerable situations in life was ppl reaching out. and this was really something that left me so speechless. i had several ppl who took their time and wrote to me about their experiences and ways of coping strategies and other helpful actions. and sometimes they just acknowledged what i wrote which was such a warm gesture that made me feel seen. and i cannot put into words how much that meant to me when i felt at my lowest a few years back. let's be honest for a second, on here we hardly know each other, even if we are mutuals, but that doesn't stop us from reaching out to one another because that is such a big part of the human experience.

sorry for rambling but it is hard, at least for me, just trying to fully grasp it all. it makes me so happy to read that catching up on the things i wrote about my life resonated with you on a deeper level and that it gave you something back in exchange - catharsis and hope. i am deeply touched by your words and your ability to grasp the essence of what i tried to convey, it feels almost surreal to have it summarized and reflected so clearly when my original thoughts were scattered all over my blog over a span of multiple months, years even. like, really, thank you so much for all of this, the time and thoughts you put into your message, your genuine expression of your feelings and joy on my behalf, it means a lot and i fail to put my thanks into words, idk... i feel seen again. and no worries, i don't think this is too parasocial, after all i put my thoughts out there, and you just happened to read them 🧡

so again and again, thank you so much, and i also hope you have a lovely day <3

[katierosefun]

actually as much as i love mike and harvey together. i feel so sad for rachel zane because imagine falling in love with your coworker and then you learn that your coworker is a fake lawyer but not only that, your coworker is a fake lawyer who would literally do anything for his boss. he'll literally leave you at the altar to go to prison for his boss. he'll try to quit his job multiple times but keep coming back because his boss asked him to come back. he'll move to seattle with you, and you'll breathe a sigh of relief because it means that it can finally just be the two of you, but then you learn that he's inviting his stupid former boss to join them. and his stupid former boss agrees. you smile because your husband is so stupid happy at the idea of working with his former boss again, but you've seen this film one too many times before, and you are going to be subject to watching your husband choose his stupid former boss-slash-friend over you again and again and again and again and again and ag

[skrunksthatwunk]

fuck offfff poor audio processing makes ppl flirting with me so stupid they'll be like hey you're pretty and I'll go ah 👍😐. or omg yeah! 🤘 or i just laugh bashfully without even knowing what they said until like a minute later. help help my default responses are making people confused and unsettled. and those are the same responses i give when ppl talk shit about me too it's not good

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[chuluoyi]

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took of his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

[bookwyrminspiration]

and supplemental dude wait i just read your tags in more detail (i am going through your response bit by bit) and once again i do not mind at all!! the loss of language and culture is a thing that happens everywhere it could happen to anyone. and it's, i don't want to say horrific because we're like still alive and vibing and just being people but, painful to have lost so much of it? i kind of grew up pretty surrounded by people who speak khmer and chinese and it's comforting to me even though i don't understand the majority of it beyond some little words here and there, and even if i learned now it's just like. it wouldn't be the same as if i had grown up speaking it, or gotten taught by my family? you know? and then also an embarrassment at having to learn this late and being bad at it (oh to be a baby and able to just walk and say "gwah" to people) etc etc it's HARD. it's RIDICULOUS is what it is. i don't like to stew in it haha it's just this palm-sized piece of grief in me over not being able to understand anything. one day though if either of us remember my dad is going to teach me khmer. because he wants us to get the dad jokes

YEAH!! You get it!! We are still here living and enjoying our lives, like we're not a walking breathing tragedy only containing grief, but there is grief there. Even though we're perfectly fine people. There is horrible tragedy alongside that; they coexist.

I also grew up and live around a lot of people who speak Spanish (large hispanic population percentage wise), and every time I find my attention caught. I just listen like "can I understand them? can I follow?" And usually the answer is disjointedly, but I still love hearing it. And am always so thrilled for the little kids alongside their parents who can understand them and who are going to grow up with the language. Though sometimes it opens up that palm-sized piece of grief and I can't help fervently wishing that could've been me. And what internal battles I wouldn't be waging with myself today if only

Because yeah!! I know I shouldn't be embarrassed and that it happens and I'm not alone, but it can feel so embarrassing to have to learn it late on my own. Babies are all expected to be bad and learning, but at our ages there are some people who are perfectly fluent and some people (me) who are very behind and it's like!! I want to catch up I want to be where you are but I have to struggle through all this unfamiliarity and confusion and mistakes first. And it sucks! The guilt over not speaking what should've been your mother tongue...rip my heart out why don't you. Which could've been entirely avoided if only reasons entirely outside of my control hadn't happened! And no matter how hard I work the fact is still that I had to teach myself and didn't grow up with it...I don't dream in Spanish (babel reference)

I don't like to stew in it either, because I can't do anything about my situation or how I grew up so it just. Hurts. There's just this ache. Maybe one day I'll get over it but I kinda suspect it'll always hurt a little.

I hope your dad teaches you and you can get the dad jokes--no, I don't hope, it will happen, I have faith that you will get that :)

[praeluxius]

STEPS

Newjeans Hanni smut (M reader) - the title is a hint to the TW.

6.6k words

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It didn't happen through a cliché.

Well, maybe it did, but not one of those where she's stuck head-first into some kitchen appliance or something of that ilk, though you would say this really did happen by accident.

What? She tripped, fell, landed on your dick?

Not quite like that, but the point still stands. You didn't begin that day, or even that evening, intending to fuck your step-sister, but, well…

"My apartment. My TV. My choice," you told her, as you have so many times before.

"But this film is supposed to be the best. It's got great reviews. Dani loved it..." Hanni was talking far too fast to even really pay attention. She soon started reeling off a cast list and everyone involved, and how this review called it a revelation to the genre, but you had long since started ignoring her. You know how she gets. Excitable beyond the point that someone normally would be. It's an endearing trait, if not also annoying. The rundown of her reasons was cut short as she threw her body at you in attack.

"Hanni! What are you—"

"Just gimme the controller already!" She shouted right into your ear as she threw her arms over your shoulders. You held it out in front of you, keeping her behind your back so her arms couldn't reach; not that it stopped her from trying. "Just one time. Please? Pretty pretty please?"

You climbed up from the sofa. Hanni clung to your back like a young panda, with her legs locked tight around your waist and her arms still fumbling around. You grabbed her by the ankle, trying to pry it away so you could drop her, or something, anything other than letting her continue. "Alright fine. Just let go, you idiot. You’re going to tear my arm off."

She loosened her hold, just enough for you to swing her around; one arm and leg slipping free so you could throw her onto the couch. In your flailing she managed to take the TV remote with her, but the moment of peace, of silence, of satisfaction in hearing your idiot sister bounce against the cushions before breaking into a laugh and asking, "what the hell was that for?"

"What did I ever do to deserve the step-sister from hell?" You said as you flopped down at the opposite end of the couch.

"Have a mother hot enough that my dad wanted to fu—"

"You're sick." You cut her off before she finished. She smirked, lifting her sock-clad feet onto the sofa and settling in for movie night. She brought her knees up below her chin and started flicking through the options on the screen to find the one she wanted. Her eyes were wide in her stare, her lower lip bitten. It was pretty much the last time you ever looked at her in this innocent way again.

It was another one of those shitty horror flicks. The kind that didn't even slightly live up to the billing she gave it before. This, however, was Hanni's thing—whenever she convinced you, or otherwise, to finally give up control of your TV, she would put on one of these cheap horror movies and spend the whole night tucked behind a cushion.

As much as you tried for it not to be, it's become something of a ritual, pretty much any night that she was at home, and not unbelievably tired from being overworked and didn't have to be up at the break of dawn.

It's your acceptance of things like that which really showed how much the two of you had grown. You remember fighting for your life against your mother and stepfather to not have to take her in. Convinced that if she wanted to move into the city so badly, she could get her own place, or go to one of those company dorms. Ultimately, you were made to see reason. Your apartment is close to her company, and you had a spare room, after all.

Not that she ever stopped annoying you beyond belief.

The movie, if you could call it that, had you fall into a slumber, and when you woke up Hanni had crawled across the length of the couch and was laid against you, her arms wrapping one of your own. She didn't even realise you had woken up, staring as the credits rolled with a slight, peaceful smile on her face.

She had tied her hair up by now into a ponytail, pulling the hair away from her mostly bare shoulder, where the thin strap of her cropped pyjama top rested. As you peeked down at her, your eyes accidentally fell on the space down her top. It wasn't your fault; they were just right there.

"Shit..." you muttered, catching Hanni's attention.

"Still alive there?" She chuckled a little as she gently patted her palm against your cheek. You feigned a yawn and shut your eyes, settling your head against the pillow once more.

"Hanni, put something else on. This movie is dumb."

"You fell asleep after like ten minutes."

"Yeah, and it seems it didn't take long for you to use me as a body pillow."

Hanni pursed her lips. A red flush ran through her cheeks, and then she quickly sat up. You were watching her the whole time through half-open eyes, chuckling under your breath at her reaction.

"You're an idiot," she says. "Always have been."

You shrugged in reply, "And you're easy to tease, always will be."

"Asshole." She kicked at you.

She tried to kick again, and you caught her foot. You held her bare leg in the air and then lightly kicked her back, hitting her thigh.

"Let go! I'll kick you again. Asshole!" She shouted at you, again and again, struggling to break her foot free from your hand. When you finally let her go, all her struggles made her stumble off the couch. As she went, you kicked out again, this time catching her right on the ass. "Ah! Fuck be careful you hit my plu—" She brought her hands right to her mouth when she realised what she was saying.

"Your what?" You asked.

Hanni cleared her throat, blushing to the point of matching the colour of her red short shorts. "Nothing."

She turned away from you. Just standing there. There's a part of you that wishes that you could go back to this moment. You would have left it there and gone to bed—never kicking her a third time.

But you did it.

Your foot flicked gently against her ass a final time and you felt it. Something hard tucked between the softness of her cheeks. She yelped again. You pinpoint this moment as the catalyst for everything that followed. It’s the part where her innocent image crumbled before your eyes and that’s what allowed you to do what you did. Though really, can you ever be sure that if it didn’t happen now, it wouldn’t have just happened the next day, or next week, or a few months down the line? You tell yourself it was inevitable.

"Is that what I think it is?"

She spun around, facing you once more, trying to muster something. She stumbled over and stuttered her words. "No! I... it's not mine. Minji loaned me one for... just to try... it's not." She held the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "This is... oh, god. This is so embarrassing."

Hanni slumped back onto the sofa and pressed a cushion tight against her face. "Why'd you loan it?" You ask her, only to see her tighten her grip.

"Because."

"Because what?" You sat up by her side and said something that at the time you thought would make it better, but looking back, probably came off rather creepy. "I clean your room, Hanni. I have seen worse things."

Hanni slowly dropped the cushion into her lap and looked at you with a glare. "The fuck?"

"And if you're going to use my laptop, try deleting the history." At this point, you were just piling on the embarrassment.

"Fuck! Oh my God, what did you see?" She threw the cushion into your face.

You picked it out of the air. "Nothing." You lied.

"Bullshit!" Hanni swore. "Did you see everything?"

"Nothing at all..." you said sarcastically while standing up. "I definitely didn't see all the step-brother porn you were binging last week."

She screamed and jumped up. You threw the pillow to stop her and stepped out of reach. "I hate you! You freak!" she shouted, cheeks burning red as the fury rose within her.

"Says the chick wearing a buttplug." You taunted her again as you darted across the room away from her.

"What happened to boundaries!?" She lunged at you again, and you quickly sidestepped her. 

She tried jumping at you once more and missed, only to strike her knee against the corner of the coffee table. She hopped back on one leg with the pain.

"You're an asshole, you know that!?" she shouted, holding onto her knee. You stepped closer, thinking she was really hurt. Until she used the chance to lunge at you and grab you. "What's wrong with a girl enjoying some fantasy? Not like I want to actually fuck you."

You realise now that the proper thing to do would have been to match her disgust. Tell her something along the lines of how the thought repulses you. Continued to tease her about how fucked it is that she would even look at that sort of stuff. The whole thing could have dissolved, but it's when she had hold of you, hammering her fist into your arm, that you said, "don't you?"

Then the long silence ensued. The one that said a hundred unspoken words. As her punches turned into light taps and then to her just holding onto your upper arm. She looked up at you with her pretty eyes open wide. Her lips parted slightly and the tip of her tongue rested on the bottom one as if she had something to say, but the words wouldn't come.

That's the first time you kissed her. Your own step-sister, a girl who should be off-limits in every conceivable way. Yet she opened her mouth and accepted you in that moment. The taste was so sickly sweet.

It was brief, but it told you everything you needed to know, and everything seemed to spiral from there.

First, there was the confusion. The immediate aftermath where you both let go of each other to turn away. Your backs turned on one another as the awkwardness reached its peak. Neither of you was willing to confess the enjoyment of that little exchange.

Then came the passing of the blame. First, it was Hanni who turned to you with a "What the fuck are you doing?"

And you replied with "Me!? You're the one who kissed me!"

She scoffed and shouted a response, "That was all you! Stop being such a perv, freak!" Hanni stomped past you towards her room, face half-full of anger and topped off with shame.

"I'm the perv? You're the one who I hear moan through the walls while, apparently, watching step-brother porn! I think that makes you the messed up one!” you called after her.

A pause. The hesitation. The possibility of confession. She reached her door, and it flew open. In she walked before slamming it closed with a, "you're sick!"

You stared at the door and vainly said under your breath, "you're the sick one." In your head you had realised the real truth to that; how maybe you're both sick because, as the dust settled, you can only think about a handful of things.

The kiss. Her ass. Her cute little tits.

You didn't see her again for the rest of the evening. She reserved herself to her room, while you resigned to the couch with nothing but the television keeping you company.

It had been a long time since you had a shouting match like that with Hanni. See, it used to happen all the time when she first moved in. The problem with a girl like her whose whole world revolves around singing, dancing, media training and beauty is that she lacks any sense of what it's like to be an independent adult. It seemed like the fights would never end, on account of her being seemingly incapable of washing a dish, her clothes or even cooking the most simple of things without burning it or setting something on fire.

But this? This is uncharted territory.

The night wound down, and you were headed to bed, but you found yourself outside her door. Your hand raised, ready to knock. Your breath held. Right when you finally built enough courage is when you heard it. Heard her. Moans muffled through the wood of her door. Your stomach knotted. Your groin twitches.

You lingered, unable to tear yourself away. Even as your logical side began arguing with you that you were in the wrong. That you're probably the worst sort of pervert imaginable and you should feel nothing but guilt.

The other voice, the more confident one; the devil on your shoulder told you that it's Hanni's fault. You had just warned her, and this is what she did in response, like it’s all some sort of game. You refused to admit to yourself that hearing her groaning, whimpering, and moaning through the wall influenced you—tempted you.

Louder and louder. Her voice raised higher, getting to the point where you knew she was practically screaming in the throes of pleasure. Harder and harder you grew. The rational side of you was saying that you should ignore it. Just go to sleep. Forget about it.

"Fuck!" she moaned, and you remained, listening through the door—lost in imagination.

Then you heard footsteps. Bare feet patting on wooden flooring coming closer and closer towards the door. A rush to retreat and you slipped toward your bedroom door. You barely reach the handle before the door across the hall opens.

There was a moment. The two of you locked eyes. Every fibre in your being fought against looking down.

"What?" she asked with a stone-cold expression.

"Nothing." You said, and your willpower broke. You glanced down. Completely naked, she stands at the door, her nipples peaked to fine little tips. And your gaze drifted down her soft curves and slender figure, her wide hips and full thighs.

"Nothing," she mocks.

Her eyes glanced down for a second, then back to your face, and her gaze narrowed. You panicked, dipped into your room and slammed the door just like she did earlier. You press your back to it, the cool wood against your burning body. Your mind raced.

Her feet slapped again against the wooden floor and headed toward the bathroom. That should have been that. You slipped into your bed, frustrated and confused. The sound of the shower running quickly drifted through the walls, but her cries from earlier replayed in your mind until you fell asleep.

That should have been that.

You woke to the darkness of the room—not the morning sunshine—sometime later. Half in a haze, not quite conscious yet, but something had roused you from your slumber: a movement under the sheets and a strange sensation. Warm and damp. Your eyes flicked open, adjusting to the darkness. Your hands jerked reflexively toward your groin and then your senses sharpened.

Someone between your legs. A warm and wet something sliding up and down the shaft of your hardness. Tongue? Yeah, a tongue. Your fingers reached and buried themself into hair. Stomach muscles spasmed as your hips thrust up on their own. Your lips parted as you moaned, "Fuck."

You glanced down.

Hanni.

Naked.

The tip of your cock at her mouth, lips pursed around it. Her smiling eyes sparkled and her skin glimmered, bathed in moonlight coming through the open curtains. Hanni giggled when your eyes met. Your hand dropped to her shoulder.

"Hanni..." Your throat choked dry, and you pushed at her shoulder.

"Shhh." The word whispered against your sensitive tip.

"What the hell are you..." You tried to ask, but Hanni shook her head before sucking in a breath. Then she drew the length of your cock into her warm, wet mouth and the question escaped you. "Holy shit," you gasped.

"This can be our dirty little secret," she said when she lifted her head, fingers stroking you. "We can pretend it didn’t happen in the morning, but for the rest of the night," her finger tickled down the underside of your cock as she spoke, "it can be as real as you want it to be."

You remember being convinced that it was a dream. Maybe one that you would wake up from with a mess in your shorts and, honestly, that probably would have been bad enough—having a wet dream about your step-sister. Reality intruded and threatened to drag you back from your delusion. Hanni took you into her mouth again and it was so very real.

There was no doubting the pleasure, and it was too good to make her stop. You took your hand away from her shoulder, allowing her to do as she pleased. Maybe if it was just a dream, you could allow yourself to indulge in the madness just one time…

"Fucking hell, Hanni." The words slipped from you, and with it, her warm mouth left your throbbing cock.

You peered down at her. She wiped the drool from the sides of her lips and smiled at you. Her eyes were wide as she lowered her head and slipped your dick into her warm mouth once more. Your body jolted as she put her tongue to work. She swirled the tip along the contours and ridges, then licked down the underside of the shaft and then right back up the top, leaving a thin film of saliva on your hardness.

She clasped her hand around you and it all felt far too real. Mixed emotions. There was a cold sense of terror in your heart, even with the heat of arousal radiating all over. The things she did with her lips and her tongue made you doubt your sanity.

"Does that feel good?" She said as she took a quick pause, stroking her hand along the full length. She had just caught her breath in the one moment where she stopped sucking, the first chance where her mouth wasn't busy trying to draw the soul out of you through the tip of your cock.

"You were right." She spoke almost as quickly as your mind spun. "About... the step-brother thing. It feels sick, and gross, and... wrong. It makes me feel dirty." Hanni pauses for a second, seemingly running her eyes over your body and then asks, "how depraved does it make me that it gets me really, really horny?"

Hanni had no clue that the same thoughts filled the back of your mind. Only that you weren't able to string it into words like she did. She was right. It felt really wrong, and yet there was a rush to do something that should never be done. This was where the next step began. The breaking of the boundaries. The perverse excitement in the face of the taboo.

Her hand reached out behind her and pulled back the sheets that covered her body. She was crouched between your spread legs, head still by your cock, her soft ass in the air. The cool light from the moon kissed her skin as she slowly slipped her fingers between her plump cheeks. "And this only made it worse. I've been so horny ever since I started wearing it."

Her hand moved slightly, just out of view behind her, and she let out a breathy moan.

"Hanni. What're you—

You're interrupted. "It hurt a little at first. Just a bit but you get used to it, and if it's in a good spot, if you hit it right..." She kept touching herself in front of you, and another breathy gasp escaped her lips and then she looked up at you still lying there. "What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you want?"

That's when you stirred. Reciprocated. You sat up and she rose to meet you. In seconds, you were embracing. Frenzied. Wild. All teeth and tongues and roaming hands. Shorter than you. So much smaller. She let out a yelp when you grabbed her, though she instantly silenced it by shoving her tongue back in your mouth and kissing you deeply.

Pressed against your bare chest, her breasts felt small but supple, perfect little handfuls. Her waist is slender beneath your grasp. The thick flesh of her thighs was so full and shapely. When she opened her eyes, they had such want. Lust—pure and undeniable.

So close, and the faint whimpers at her throat are a seduction. You felt it was an invitation, and your lips kissed her chin, trailing kisses down her neck. "Yes. Yes. Yes..." she encouraged you lower. Your tongue tasted the saltiness of her skin, teeth grazing and then pinching softly. Her arms were tight around your head, nails biting into the base of your neck.

She trembled at your every caress, shook each time you teased a pert nipple. Gasped louder each time you nibbled her collarbone. You turned, lifting her, and then she fell back and presented herself to you. Her legs splayed open and her bare, wet cunt dripping, begging you to take it, but...

"No," you told yourself, "it's too fast," and you began a line of kisses down her stomach, beginning at her cleavage and trailing straight down her stomach. The muscles beneath her pale skin twitched and clenched in response and her breath had gone erratic. You reached her belly button and she hooked her legs over your shoulder, and when you dipped further she clenched her thighs and squeezed as you toyed with her.

You remember savouring the moment. Savouring the pleasure, savouring the veniality.

"Lower, please," she begged in the most needy voice. "Please, I... fuck, oh, fuck please..."

It's hard to describe it all.

Somehow, in the night, you both reached a state of understanding. A state of consensual debauchery that came with a sense of agreement; a pact signed with tongue on skin in this moment of depravity.

You kissed her, playfully moving between her legs. Thigh to thigh, to dangerously close to her wet core, and there you lingered. The air grew humid. Hanni's sweet scent filled your nose. You ran your hands up her legs and felt the warmth in your palms. She gripped onto the hair at the top of your head; her fists tightened.

"Why're you teasing me, asshole?"

Hanni's moans grew louder and more needy when you used your tongue against her. Her legs wrapped tight, hooking behind your back. There was something satisfying about her reactions to your actions, something exciting about seeing her squirm.

The tip of your tongue ran up the lips of her cunt, dipping between the fleshy folds and coming to suck upon her swollen clit. Her eyes widened at the touch, and her jaw slacked to the point her words went incoherent. Her whole body spasmed as she arched and moaned out something filthy.

One moment you had hold of her thigh, feeling her clench up and quiver, the next you found that your fingers had moved downward and pressed against her slick opening. At the slight touch of your fingertips to the tenderness there, a short cry slipped out of her again. She tightened and clenched around them as you pushed in deeper.

"Who's teasing?" you asked before you buried yourself to the knuckles in her.

A smirk formed, and Hanni was about to speak, but no words came. You pumped her at a steady pace, curling your digits within her while lapping at her clit. The taste of sin never tasted so sweet. 

The combination drove her insane, and it didn’t take long until you were on the verge of making your step-sister cum.

You wrapped your lips around that swollen nub of hers and flicked it with the tip of your tongue, faster and harder, until her many moans became one, long, drawn-out and passionate, as a climax rocked through her.

Her ass lifted off the bed and her legs quivered, shaking uncontrollably while her fingers tugged painfully at the hairs on the back of your head. She jerked and gasped with a look of ecstasy on her face as she moaned your name over and over, almost reaching a scream. Your name on her lips again, and again, and you were drunk on this euphoria.

She released your head, and you postured over her, still slipping a pair of fingers into her, but slower. She drew a deep, trembling sigh and forced a smile, watching you. "I hate you," she managed.

"Do you?" you asked as you drew your cum-soaked fingers out of her. Her legs rested on your hips and the underside of your stiff cock was against her pussy. You reached around her hip, to her ass, to the plug still sat between her cheeks. Hanni hissed at your touch, biting her lip at the sensation.

"Yes. I hate you," Hanni whimpered, giving the softest moans as you tugged on the metal. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Why?" you asked.

"I just do," Hanni weakly gasped, struggling to stay strong in the moment. "You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't feel. It shouldn't be this easy."

"In that case. I hate you too, sis'."

There was this moment after you said that, where you shared a stare. Maybe the most confusing stare of your life. Calling her sis', in this position, should have been horrifying. And it was, but only at a peripheral level. Otherwise, it felt surprisingly... hot.

You dipped into her for another kiss, and this one seemed ever more ravenous than the last. You kissed with hunger and her hand ran around the back of your head. Kissed as lovers would. She was just as aroused as you and eager for more.

Slow and soft, you rocked yourself against her wetness. Your length dragged between her lips, up over her clit, and down again to poke at her entrance. You moved over and over, enjoying the tease.

The slow, sticky friction between the two of you. Her breath was sharp, as you slipped yourself over her and kissed at her neck. Every rock of your hips, she ground back against you.

"I think..." She hesitated. "Fuck. I think I'm ready. Just... go slow?"

The guilt of what's happened was a distant thing, a buzzing fly on a summer afternoon. The kind of thing that when you're so enthralled by something else, it becomes invisible. Then, with a nod and a shivering sigh, she reached down and gripped your cock. You bent back from kissing her so she could guide you.

Her tiny cunt. Her beautiful wetness. Her forbidden, decadent treasure.

Her breath was shaky. Her next words came out amid a tremble, "I've never... No one else."

You brushed stray strands of hair out of her face and ran your hand over her cheek. You gave her the reassurance she needed.

She told you, a few weeks later, how grateful she was that it was you. See, for all the filth that ran through her mind on an almost daily basis, she never imagined what it would be like. It being you—who you are and everything you meant to her—made it easy. Natural. Wonderful.

That first time, you took it all so slow. With her legs raised over yours. Watching the subtle changes in expression as you gradually moved more and more of your cock into her. Sinking deep between her pink, delicate walls. Your step-sister, panting and squirming beneath you.

"You okay?" you asked her.

"Ah... yes. This is... I love it," she responded between whining breaths.

It was just enough, the reassurance, so you could push into her the rest of the way. Her hand found its way to your shoulder; bracing as you eased in, her delicate frame tensing as you buried fully.

You watched her reaction and tried to be still as you felt her slick cunt pulse around you, wanting you. She swallowed and gripped you with the muscles within her. The second of respite didn't last long though; you weren't sure if it was a request or accident when her feet tapped against the curve of your ass, but it prompted you to fuck her.

"Feels... fuck." You sucked your breath between your teeth and braced yourself up on a shaky arm. You drew out slowly, and you noticed her nails digging into the arm you supported yourself upon. 

You groaned in relief more than anything else as your hips pumped the shallow strokes that sent electricity through your body. She started pushing herself onto you as she clutched your back, drawing her heels over the small of your spine. You looked down to see her eyelids were flickering, and the sight only served to inflame you more. Her moans were so erotic and encouraging.

That first time, it was special. You took your time together to explore each other's bodies, the curves of hips, the muscles, the valleys and ridges. You caressed your stepsister's gorgeous body and then tried your best to put her through another climax, as if your efforts to reach your own were less important.

"Fuck you're so tight," you told her, during those final thrusts, buried to the hilt in her tiny, soft pussy.

She spoke, her voice weak and shuddering, "You're big... inside me..."

The fact that she held you tighter in her embrace and how it seemed that she refused to let you out of her even as she came apart was telling.

She came that night, again, this time all over your cock. The first of many times to come. A string of incomprehensible cries erupted from her in the throes of that first proper fuck. Hanni's thighs flexed around your hips. She clung desperately to your body as she cried into your mouth as she climaxed.

Not long after is when you felt it too, that impending release. A coil of pressure. Unfamiliar and intense. The mere thought of emptying inside her drove you mad. Your fingers dug into her hips as you fucked your step-sister with complete abandon.

"Don't. Not inside. Please, not inside," she murmured in an incoherent mantra of guilt and pleasure, right next to your ear.

You didn't, of course. You drove yourself right to the edge and pulled out. Her juices coated your length, slick and wet as your cock twitched in anticipation of the final moments. Hanni wanted your release as badly as you did. She took you into her hand for the finish, gripping tightly and jerking that first hot shot of cum onto her soft tummy. You thrust through her hand to let the pleasure course through you. Each thrust sent a long rope splattering onto her naked skin as she grinned up at you, flushed and sweaty, covered in your lust.

That was the first night, but definitely not the last.

The next morning arrived with Hanni in your arms—the little spoon. The little naked spoon pressed against your body. Skin to skin. She woke you with the slow rocking motion of her body, grinding her plump cheeks against you.

"I could get used to this," she whispered under her breath, smiling against the crook of your arm. "Good morning," she said to you over her shoulder. "Sleep well? You had some pretty naughty dreams last night, didn't you?"

You responded with your erection growing against the warm crevice of her butt and a gentle hum as her ass rocked over it. That was no dream. "I did," you said groggily. "As naughty as yours."

"Mmmm," is all she had as a response, lost in the pleasant distraction, grinding herself back into you even more. As she did so, you grew harder, until your stiffness pressed against the plug still wedged into her ass. Hanni had left it there overnight. "The thing about dreams is that they're easy to forget. Want to remind me of mine?"

You ran your hand down her thigh, and that's how the second time started. You caressed her flesh for a while, feeling the softness of her thighs while she silently lay there, patiently allowing you to enjoy her.

Then, you grabbed her by the knee, opening her legs and then she spoke, "Are you going to make your step-sister cum again?"

So quickly did she become so utterly shameless. You grunted in reply and then you held her leg up by hooking under the knee, and shuffled down slightly, letting your hard cock slip from between her cheeks and go between her legs.

You closed your eyes and leaned into her. Lips at her shoulders, the kisses soon trailed to her neck. She hummed as you ground your cock between her folds. Not even putting in the effort to try to actually enter her just yet, just teasing your stepsister for the moment.

Her voice filled with the sweet sound of passion.

Your heart began pounding and a flush rose to your cheeks. You could have written that first night off as a mistake. One you would regret, forget and never make again. Not after this. This is a definitive choice. One of sound mind and body, not under the tension of an argument or anything else that happened before.

This is different.

Hanni reached her hand down between her legs, pulling your cock so it would slip into her when you shift your hips. "Fuck me," she begged.

You did. You slipped inside her and heard her moan in such sweet ecstasy. She gripped the pillow she slept on the night before, burying her face in it, and moaning into it in such sweet rapture. "Fuck, yes, harder," Hanni moaned.

When she pushed her hips back onto you, her ass brushed against your belly. The rhythm began. Slow. Lazy thrusts. Enjoying every sensation in the post-sleep haze, savouring the fact that you knew how good she felt on the inside. How incredible her wet, silky, tight depths felt when you slid in and out of them.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your voice is low, near a growl. Your arms around your step-sister. It shouldn't, by all accounts, feel natural to have her like that, but it did.

"Yes, it feels incredible. Please don't stop." Your cock bottomed out within her. As deep as you could go. You groaned, and stayed there for a while, feeling your stepsister clenching down, her inner walls trying to pull you in further.

Hanni's hands gripped at the bedsheets, clutching tightly to them. The position pressed the metal of the plug between her asscheeks, and as your thrusting continued, the sensation sent a tingle through her body. It was a filthy combination. One that allowed every stroke you drove into her cunt to simultaneously send an equally blissful shock straight into her ass.

It was madness for her to indulge in the ecstasy—for both of you to lose yourselves.

You grew faster, and she unwound completely. She grew limp as she reached her climax. She couldn't even grip the bedsheets, or the pillow, her body simply submitting to the pleasure. She merely lay there as your hips battered against her soft ass, fucking her right through it.

Then she asked you, right after it subsided, "Ever fantasised about cumming on my ass before?"

The way she asked that made the question feel almost normal. "That the sort of thing they do in the porn you watch?" You slowed for a bit to deliver the tease.

Hanni couldn't keep the shy smile from creeping across her lips. "There was this one video where a guy put it all over his sister's butt. Seemed like he really liked it."

The fact she talked to you about the dirty things she likes helped it all along. It was the extent of her experience, the videos, but it helped. What it told you about what she really likes, what she enjoys... It became the basis for all your dirty experiments.

"That sounds hot. You have a cute ass."

She giggled to herself, rolling her hips, getting up onto her hands and knees and facing away from you.

You seated yourself onto your calves, giving her space and watching as she turned, giving you the view you craved. "I do?" She said as she glanced back over her shoulder, showing her innocence and naïvete in all its splendour. Her eyes sparkled and then a smile spread over her lips to match that look in her eye.

"The cutest," you told her as you kneeled behind her. One hand caressed the outside of her thigh while the other gripped the base of your cock. Eyes firmly set on that beautiful plump ass. That was the second time in just a few hours that you covered Hanni in your cum.

She watched every second as you did, barely managing a blink. Arousal and delight danced over her features in equal measure, and your name left her tongue in the form of a delightful, drawn-out groan. The effect was very apparent. With every streak and ribbon of white landing, she gasped and moaned while staring at the mess.

From that moment on, you entered regularity. It seemed like for months, every chance the two of you got to fuck, you fucked. Her room. Your room. The shower. The sofa. The kitchen. Against that window that overlooks the city's skyline. A public bathroom. A hand job in the car while you're stuck in traffic. Riding your face in a park, hidden among trees, grass, and bushes. Fucking, kissing, and biting until the both of you are exhausted and sore and dripping with sweat. It never ceased. Two insatiable appetites. Your mutual loss of control continued. The affair felt so exhilarating. An explosion of forbidden sin in an otherwise normal existence.

It all came with its fair share of close calls. That Saturday morning surprise visit from your parents where you answered their knock at the door and they invited themselves in, all while Hanni lies naked in your bedroom. How you sneakily warned her before she emerged and spun the story to them both about how she slept on your floor out of fear after watching another one of her horror movies. They bought it, of course, because they couldn't imagine there being any other explanation.

Then there was Hanni's near miss with her group. She told you all about how Minji had picked up on how something had changed with her; about how convinced Minji was that Hanni had found herself a boyfriend. About the look Minji gave her as Hanni protested, and finally how she got away with a half-truth.

She told the girls it was because of you and how you would work out together on weekends to make her feel better.

Everything was going so well, which made this week even more confusing.

It's been days since you last saw her. The longest you have gone in some time. Long hours and staying over with her members are one thing. Going days with no word or anything at all is another. She ignored your texts, never returned your calls, and stopped showing up at home like you'd come to expect.

No warning.

Nothing.

[luulapants]

Existential despair is so common in a person's twenties, I think, because up until that point, we've had a pretty clear road map for what's expected of us and we haven't had much reason to question that map. There are still a few milestones outlined for us (start a career, get married, make babies) but more and more young people are entering the post-school world and realizing:

A) that career thing just isn't happening like they said it would

B) I'm not ready to get married/I don't want to get married/marriage isn't the sort of life-altering event that it used to be

C) I'm not ready to make babies/I don't want a baby/I can't afford to raise children right now (see point A)

And in the absence of these milestones to shoot for (which one could argue weren't the promise of fulfillment they claimed to be in the first place), what we're left with is this aimless abyss of "the rest of our lives" sprawling out ahead of us with no indication of how it will go or what we should be doing to shape it. Young people start their first jobs, find they hate them, and think to themselves, "Is this it? Am I just supposed to do this job until I'm too old to do it or die first?"

Which is, yeah, really fucking depressing!! So here's my best attempt at an alternate roadmap for young people that don't vibe with the old model. Please feel free to add in your own suggestions!

Learn how you work and what you want out of a job. Unless you've been in a job-specific training program that gives you hands-on experience, your first jobs should be experiments. Learn how a full-time job feels for you, what elements are more or less difficult. Different workplaces have different cultures and expectations - what do you need out of a job environment? Do you need to find fulfillment in your job or is it enough for it to pay the bills and leave you time to find outside fulfillment? Do you want to climb a corporate ladder or are you content to hunker down as long as your bills get paid? This period of experimentation is exhausting and may feel like it's consuming your whole life.

Learn how to make time for things outside of work. Adapting to a full-time work environment often leaves you feeling so drained that you can't do anything but go home and collapse on the couch every day. That's fine - for a little while. But it can also become a habit. You need to learn how to do things after work or you'll go crazy. Go to a trivia night. Start an exercise schedule. Take a class in your community. Find volunteer work. Join a band. You will find that putting more things into your day makes you feel like you have more time, not less.

Find a community. Making friends as an adult can feel impossible. Where do you find these mysterious friends everyone seems to have?? This goes along with #2, though. As you start regularly attending the same activities, you will find that repeat interactions with the same people turn into friendships or at least friendly acquaintances. Say yes to invitations. Get involved in your local community. Strive to be connected enough to bump into people at the grocery store.

Unlearn bad lessons. We all internalize some messed up things when we're growing up. As you start off your adult life, that's the time to actively work at unpacking the things you've brought with you from childhood and deciding which things are helping you and which things are harming you. This might mean therapy or joining a spiritual group or reading new things or just making special time to be in your own head.

Learn the lessons you missed. In this, I mostly mean practical things. "Adulting." Areas of your day-to-day practical life that are causing you extreme stress are probably related to a knowledge or experience gap. Do you hate cooking and cleaning or were you not taught how to do it properly? Are you afraid of making medical appointments or is it just something new you're not used to? Does money make you queasy or do you need to learn how to make a budget?

Find something fulfilling. This can be your job. It can be volunteer work. It can be faith. It can be a hobby. It can be creating things. It can be challenging yourself physically. It can be activism. It can be going for walks in nature. Everyone finds fulfillment in different places. If you're not finding it where you are, look somewhere else.