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mistressofstars · 6 months ago

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A Lecture on Desire - Part IV

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: Part 4. A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Slow-Burn. Non-magical AU

Word count: 1.5k

Part IV

Kathryn unlocks the office door with a smooth twist of her wrist and pushes it open. You follow, heart pounding. “So,” Kathryn starts, her voice light, almost disarmingly casual “What’s your curriculum like this semester? Packed, I imagine?” She tilts her head, the innocent tone in her voice a stark contrast to the intensity of her presence.

You nod, trying to match her casual tone. “Yeah, it’s… pretty full. A lot of reading.”

She hums thoughtfully, tilting her head as if the conversation were completely ordinary. “And you’re keeping up just fine, I hope?“, her voice almost sing-song.

“Yes,” you reply, though your voice is tighter than before, the tension beneath her surface calm coiling tighter around you.

Kathryn glances toward the door. “Good. I wouldn’t want you overwhelmed.” She smiles but when she moves to the door and shuts it with a soft click, the shift is instant.

The air feels heavier, thicker, and the room seems smaller somehow. When she turns back around her smile is replaced with that smirk, eyes dark.

Her smooth steps close the space between you, deliberate and steady, until she’s behind you.

Her breath skims the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. The silence stretches, heavy, until she places her hands at your shoulders. The lightest pressure, barely there, as if testing the effect. Her fingertips trail down your arms, her touch barely grazing you. She slides the coat off your shoulders, the fabric dragging against your skin but she doesn’t lay a finger on you.

Kathryn gestures to the chair opposite her desk, the simple command hanging in the air. “Take a seat.”

Her office is meticulously arranged, the walls are lined with dark wood bookshelves, heavy with textbooks, old classics, and some contemporary titles—everything in its place. A massive oak desk sits in front of you with papers neatly stacked to one side, and a sleek black pen rests beside an open notebook.

You glance at a framed photo on the wall, catching sight of Kathryn beside a woman with dark hair, heart shaped face and big brown eyes. There’s something familiar about her. The image feels professional, a posed moment, but there’s an undeniable closeness between them. Kathryn stands a little too close, her posture casual but confident, while the other woman’s body language matches hers, a subtle intimacy in the way they share the frame.

Kathryn notices and clears her throat, your attention immediately snaps back to her. She sat down in the chair opposite from you, the massive oak desk separating you.

Kathryn picks up a fountain pen and taps it against the edge of her desk, her eyes steady on you. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she says, her voice low, like she’s carefully choosing each word. “You’ve impressed me with your contributions in class. So, I’d like to make an offer.”

You blink, trying to make sense of what she’s implying. “An offer?”

She sits back slightly in her chair, eyes glinting with a subtle, knowing look. “How would you feel about becoming my personal assistant? You’d be managing the usual, the appointments, the messages—but there are certain… tasks, more personal in nature“

You blink, caught off guard by her words. The offer hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you. Her eyes never leave yours, her expression calm but expectant. The question is simple, but the implication is anything but.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to process what she’s said. “Your assistant?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Kathryn’s lips curl into a slight smile, her fingers still tracing the pen with a casual, almost hypnotic rhythm. “Yes. My personal assistant,” she confirms. „I mean if you‘re not interested I‘d understand“, Professor Hahn says innocently.

“Think of it as an opportunity to work more closely with me, outside the classroom.“ She gets up from her chair and walks around her desk and leans against it right in fron’t of you. She continues, her tone almost conversational. “And trust me, this position will be far more rewarding than your little barista job—financially and otherwise.” After a short pause she adds, “I’ve always believed in rewarding those who excel.”

You swallow hard.

Kathryn’s eyes are fixed on you, waiting, her lips pouting, as if she already knows your answer.

“Alright,” you finally say, your voice steady. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your assistant.”

Kathryn leans back in her chair, her expression unreadable, though something flashes behind her eyes—satisfaction, maybe?

”How… would this work, exactly?“ you ask, your hands gripping the edge of your chair.

Kathryn wipes her hair out of her face in a fluid motion, “I thought you might ask that.” She leans back, her gaze still locked on you, before reaching for the drawer of her desk. The smooth glide of the drawer’s opening feels almost theatrical.

From inside, she produces an envelope. She taps it lightly against her palm as she stands, rounding the desk with languid ease. When she reaches your side, she doesn’t hand it to you. Instead, she lays it on the desk in front of you.

“This,” she says, her voice low, “is the formal arrangement…a contract if you will.“

You stare at the envelope. “Open it,” Kathryn says, her voice a velvet command.

She reaches for something on her desk,

a letter opener, sleek and silver, she offers it to you. Glancing up at her, the older woman’s expression gives nothing away.

You hesitate, the envelope trembling slightly under your grip. “Need help?” she asks, her tone teasing, almost condescending. Before you can answer, she moves closer, leaning down.

Her hand, feather-light but commanding, brushes over yours, guiding the letter opener to the top of the envelope. She doesn’t press, she lets you do the work, but her touch lingers, her fingers grazing yours with maddening precision.

The blade glides through the paper. The faint scent of her perfume, spicy, woody, dangerously alluring, wraps around you, making it hard to think clearly.

“There we go,” Kathryn murmurs, her voice so close it sends a shiver down your spine. “You seem capable of handling instructions. That’s a start.” She steps back just enough, letting you open the envelope fully on your own.

As you scan the first few lines, Kathryn circles you. Your eyes catch on a section titled “Confidentiality Agreement”: “The assistant agrees to maintain absolute discretion about the details of this arrangement, particularly regarding any tasks or interactions deemed ‘non-standard.’

Your throat tightens, but you move to the next section. “Exclusivity Clause”: “The assistant shall not perform similar duties for any other faculty member or individual without prior written consent from Prof. Dr. Hahn.

Her hand comes to rest lightly on the back of your chair. The soft scrape of her nail against the wood sends another shiver through you.

You glance back down. “Termination Clause”: “Any breach of the agreement will result in the immediate termination of the assistant’s position, with additional consequences at the discretion of Prof. Dr. Hahn.”

Her hand slides onto your shoulder, much like before, but this time with an assertive pressure.

Your pulse quickens as your gaze shifts to the next clause. “Written Consent Clause”: “Tasks beyond the standard assistant duties will require the assistant’s explicit, written consent. By signing, the assistant agrees to undertake such tasks.“

She lingers there, not moving, the quiet pressure enough to send a pulse of heat racing through your body.

Her thumb brushes against the slope of your shoulder before her fingers trail downward in a slow, precise motion, just barely grazing your arm. It’s not enough to fully disarm you—only enough to set every nerve in your body alight. “Take your time,” she murmurs, her voice low, intimate, close to your ear.

You breathe, nodding, your eyes drift back to a final section, “Special Considerations”.“Certain tasks may require a degree of proximity, whether physical or emotional. The assistant agrees to approach these with an understanding that some situations may necessitate a adaptable response.”

The warmth of her breath hits the side of your neck, and you realize—this touch, this moment, is no accident. And that’s when her hand pulls away, the absence almost more shocking than the touch itself.

“Well?” she asks, her tone now light, conversational, as if the moment hadn’t just happened. “Any questions about the terms?”

…

The next morning, you quit your newly found barista job. You signed the contract that night, your hand trembling slightly as you did. She had watched with those cool, impassive grey eyes, giving nothing away.

She didn’t give you a copy, only slipped it back into its envelope. A few days later, after her lecture, you were set to meet again. She’d mentioned an out-of-town buisness trip that would occupy her until then.

Authors note: Did I say spicy, hmm? Seems someone’s feeling a little impatient… and oh, so easy to lead on. Keep that eagerness up and I won‘t disappoint.

Happy New Year x

#kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x you #agatha all along #reader insert #kathryn hahn #professor x student

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rrezshifts · 4 months ago

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scripting that the wizarding world is actually doused in pagan elements because in this reality “muggle” paganism originated from the practices of actual witches and wizards before they had to go into hiding. and while we’re at it why don’t i reimagine the entirety of the wizarding curriculum for this reason…

like… wtf is christmas and halloween?? your favs are celebrating yule and samhain!!! on a full moon the window ledges in dorms are stacked to the brim with crystals, water, oracle decks, and various other witchy supples for cleansing. and the amount of pentacle jewelry worn around campus would give an uneducated christian a heart attack. not to mention even the boy’s dorms smell good with the amount of incense and candles that are burnt weekly.

#rrez’s thoughts #rrez’s modern!marauders reality #witchcraft #shiftblr #reality shifting #desired reality #shifting antis dni #rrezshifts #shifting blog #shiftblr community #reality shifter #spirituality #hp dr #harry potter dr

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utterdisaster1 · 11 months ago

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Year One

Pairing: Sirius Black x male!reader So after this, we're going straight into pining, romance, teenager phase. There will be a time skip, I think 5th year. TW: mentions of food and eating, mentions of bullying and homophobia, the f-slur and related terms (not in the magical world though). Use of Y/N.

After, more or less arduous journey to London, which gave you plenty of time to ponder why some professor couldn't just come and apparate you to the castle, like Professor McGonnagal did to Diagon Alley, you finally found yourself at the King's Cross.

You didn't know how to feel about being instructed to "run through the wall of the third archway". On one hand, you were certain Professor McGonagall wouldn't play a practical joke on you, but on the other, she would be the perfect person to fool someone, because who would expect a prank from her?

Your parents weren't of much help either. A parent rather, your father couldn't take the time off. Clearly, there is a difference between acknonwledgement and acceptance, one you hadn't picked up on during the Professor's initial visit. Neither of them wanted to talk about it much.

Whether it was your recount of the trip to Diagon Alley or things you had read in books up until that point, of which you bought much more than expected, they would say, "It's not like it applies to us, honey. Let's go an a walk or let's watch some telly".

At Professor's querying look when you came up with a giant stack of books, you just said, "When one doesn't know anything, there's everything to learn." And you very much intended to know everything.

I mean, it's magic. Not tricks one may see at some fair or circus, but an actual power to change reality as you see it. How could you be satisfied with just the bare minimum profficiency in the first-year curriculum?

The possesion of magic was enough to make the normal world seem bleak in comparison. But what also sparked your interest was when you saw two women walking hand in hand in the Alley, clearly having an amorous conversation. At your look, which you hoped didn't give the wrong impression, the Professor said "The wizarding people don't concern themselves with notions of sexual preferences nearly as much as many muggles do. Relationships between people of the same sex are treated exactly as those between the opposite sex. We see no difference."

When you heard that, you wanted to cry. Could you have grown up like that? Without people calling you a faggot or a poof. Not that you ever expressed any interest in a boy openly. There were one or two small, innocent crushes, when simply being around them made butterflies fly in your stomach, but you never told anyone. You couldn't.

It wasn't that long ago that they decriminalised homosexuality, after all. You were six when they legalised it. The first time you were beaten up for "your poofness" you were five.

And again, it's not like you made any advances on another boy. It was either your face "looking gay", your weird behaviour, or maybe being one of the smaller kids in your year, and the slurs were just added in for further humiliation.

But now you were going somewhere where it wouldn't matter. So crashing into a pillar wasn't a bad price to pay for that. After one more look at your mum, you ran into the wall.

Fortunately you didn't crash. After a quick sensation you couldn't quite describe, you found yourself on a lively platform filled with eccentrically dressed people, similar to how they dressed in Diagon Alley. There was also a bright red steam locomotive: with "Hogwarts Express" engraved on the front of it. Everything was just magnificent.

You didn't even register your mum appearing next to you. But after a moment of silent awe, you pulled yourself together and went on. Seeing some kids with carts full of suitcases you were glad that Professor McGonagall had recommended buying a single trunk with extension charms on it. It barely weighed anything, which was a very significant advantage as well.

You wished you had gotten a heartfelt goodbye, but your mum seemed more overwhelmed by her surroundings than by the fact the soonest she would see you would be in three months. Maybe she still hadn't registered the fact.

Still, your hug was returned, and got you a kiss on your forehead, along with a "Stay safe and behave", before boarding the train.

You entered the first empty compartment you found. You were quite convinced you didn't want to intrude on a group of already existing friends, or worse, possible bullies. You quickly sat down and took out your book on protective charms and enchantments.

Seeing that you now actually had an opportunity to practice the spells, you immediately immersed yourself in training, your breath hitching every time you saw your wand actually perform the spell. You didn't even notice the train taking off.

But you did register being interrupted by two kids, first-years by the looks of it. One had dark red hair, startingly green eyes, and freckles on her pale skin. The other was a scrawny boy with greasy, shoulder-length hair and a scowl on his face. He clearly wanted to go further down the cart, but the girl said "Come one Severus, it's the first one that isn't full," and soon enough turned to you. "Hi, my name is Lily Evans, and this is Severus Snape. Could we join you?"

You simply nodded and said 'Y/N L/N', with your thoughts more focused on why the notice-me-not charm you had placed earlier had stopped working on your compartment door.

The girl continued, "You wouldn't believe what sort of buffoons we met earlier. So self-conceited and arrogant... I mean, why would you insult a stranger you've barely met!? I'll pray not to end up in the same house as either of them!"

"Well, I'm sorry that happened to you" you said quietly.

The boy hadn't said anything yet, but he did sit down next to the Evans girl, so you assumed they were both going to stay. At some point, she started talking about phones, or rather how much more convenient it would be if they just installed some phone booths outside so she could call her family instead of sending letters by owl.

"Yeah, I wondered the same thing," you interjeccted and silently added "Not that they would get what I'm talking about anyway; they seem weirded out by anything that has to do with the school."

"My sister's weirded out too," she responded with a tone that seemed to imply some deeper emotions. But she quickly asked "Are you from a normal- I mean, Muggle family too?"

"Yeah," you replied. "I assume you are as well"

The boy gave you a sharp look, apparently displeased with the attention you were receiving, and said, "Congratulations on stating the obvious"

"That's rude, Severus" Lily said.

He huffed but didn't say anything further, though whenever she wasn't looking, he would send you a glare, sometimes accompanied by a sneer.

Despite the shadow of despair that the boy seemed to be, you connected well with Lily. Being Muggle-borns, there were many experiences you shared, as well as a particular interest in the subject of Charms. You both received a visit from Professor McGonagall and quite agreed that you wouldn't want to do anything to incur her ire.

When the train finally arrived at Hogsmeade Station, things moved quickly. One moment you were on the platform, then, sooner than you realised, you were sailing on a boat to the castle. The castle was gorgeous and took the breath away from most, if not all, first-years present.

Then you were guided by the Headmistress towards a waiting chamber, given a speech about the houses, responsibility and consequences, and a few minutes later, you entered the Great Hall.

You wondered if you had any lungs left, considering how many times it seemed you could barely breathe that day.

The Hall could only be described as grandiose. "Impressive" or "grand" really wouldn't do justice to the beauty of your surroundings.

After listening to a song from a battered hat, it was time for the sorting. When your turn came, you quickly went up the stairs and put the hat on.

Interesting. Very interesting. So many qualities. A strong desire to learn, an abundance of curiosity. But I see there's something you want even more. To belong. To find people who will stand with you, not against you. And there's protectiveness as well. You're willing to fight for those you love, for what you believe is right. I think I know... Better be...GRYFFINDOR!!!

You were quite surprised, but not disappointed. They seemed like a nice group to be a part of.

You sat down next to a blonde-haired girl, and she quickly introduced herself. "Marlene McKinnon, nice to meet you"

"Y/N L/N, nice to meet you too," you responded.

After the sorting was done, and everyone was free to talk and eat as much as they wanted, you had more opportunities to get to know your housemates.

You already knew Lily, and by the stink eye she was giving two particular boys, you assumed they were the "buffoons" she mentioned earlier. One of them, with unruly dark hair, glasses, and a very loud voice, you learned, was James Potter. The other, with aristocratic looks, high cheekbones, a little haughy look that was tempered by a smile, and grey eyes that seemed to glimmer like stones underwater in sunlight, was Sirius Black.

You knew they would be trouble after their description from Lily. But what you didn't expect were the butterflies you felt in your stomach when Sirius turned to you, introducing himself and exchanging a brief conversation.

No. You were not going to be saddled with a crush on your dormmate. Not possible. And on your first day already. It had been going so well. You remembered the mess you were around the boy in your year 5 at your previous school, the simultaneous pull to him mixed with a fear of him noticing.

It will pass. You will make it pass. I mean, you barely knew him. If you can make an animal from a pebble, there must be a spell to just get rid of such a miniscule thing as a crush. There must be.

______________________________________________________________

Weeks passed, and you had not found the spell. But you didn't really need to. You were only 11 years old, after all; the hormonal storm was yet to come, so it wasn't that hard to fucus on other matters with the abundance of things to do.

Schoolwork was the primary focus. You had read up on a lot before the term started, but there was still so much more. Potions, the particular bane of your existence, was what you had to work on the most. Any wand-work came to you naturally, often earning praise and acknowledgement from your professors. History of Magic was a good time to take a nap, you had neutral feelings towards Herbology, and Astronomy, despite the late hour, was wonderful in its own right.

Another thing taking up your time was dealing with the prejudiced, fascist vipers from Slytherin House. Apparently, being a Gryffindor and a mudblood made you a favourable target. It was a good thing you had experience with bullies and that you instinctivelly picked up books on protection spells first. Apparently, a succesful protego performed by a first-year was a rare occurence, so they hadn't expected it. And living with James Potter also gave you access to books on hexes more than effective for fighting back.

What allowed you to resist the most, though, was what the hat had predicted for you. You and your dormmates quickly became close - mischief being both a bonding experience and something too fun to resist.

James Potter would have become your friend even if you had resisted with all your might. The boy had a certain pull to him. He was like the shining sun - whenever he walked into a room, he managed to capture everyone's attention. He was friendly to you from the get-go, but it was the moment he witnessed you repel a hex sent at the two of you with ease that you truly gained his attention and admiration. His curiosity turned towards protectiveness, which quickly developed into a genuine friendship that you would never think of rejecting.

Remus Lupin was quiet and subdued. He had an air of fear and shyness around him that you could relate to. It was palpable he was trying to keep his distance from all four of you. You didn't have the flair of James Potter, but after one serendipitious meeting in the library followed by a shared study session, it became a regular occurence. You were inviting and never pushed him beyond what he was willing to share, and over time, a clear fondness developed between you both.

Peter Pettigrew came as a package deal with James, really. Usually content to listen and nod along, it took you a while to actually get to know him. Surprisingly, it was chess that allowed you two to actually develop a friendship. He was shockingly good and practically pulverised you in most cases, but the time you spent together allowed you to get to know each other, and over time, you didn't need James to have something to talk about.

And then there was Sirius Black. In the dorm, he was everything - funny, teasing and entertaining. But whenever you left the dorm, he would be at the farthest distance possible away from you. You understood why. The howlers he received left no doubt as to his family's stance on blood purity and status. To them, you were the lowest of scum, sullying the earth you dared to step on. And with serpent eyes tracking his every move, particularly from a girl with a perpetual look of distaste, it was clear that his parents were being informed about all his activities in detail.

Now, when it came to your feelings, you spent one evening pondering on them and came to a conclusion - you appreciated his appearance, there was no doubt about that. He was pretty, and it was pleasant to look at him, like it's pleasant to look at art too; there's nothing abnormal about that. He was a friend, even if a concealed one. Being his friend felt nice, much nicer than having a crush.

Living with him helped you get used to his presence, and soon there was no fluttering in your stomach or slight blush on your cheeks whenever you talked with him. You were a kid, romantic feelings were easily avoidable and fickle if present in the first place.

Together, you and the other Gryffindor first-year boys created a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, the scope of your abilities was limited. There are only so many spells, potions and schemes an 11-year-old minds are capable of. But with each prank, your drive to outdo the previous one pushed you further.

All that however, made things with your other friend - Lily Evans, difficult. You cared for her friendship. You two could relate with each other in ways you couldn't with any of the boys. None of them were Muggle-borns; the closest relation was Remus's mum, who was a Muggle-born herself. There was also Mary Macdonald in Gryffindor, but she was definitely not in a place where she was ready to befriend a boy, much to your dismay, because she seemed like great fun.

So, you tried to balance things with Lily and swore to try to sway the boys away from Snape. And you did try, but it was quite difficult.

He was a git. No other way to put it. Well, there's many other ways to put it actually - unpleasant, greasy, rude, strident, oily - many adjectives, none of which were appreciated by Lily.

The only friend of yours she tolerated was Remus. So, you made it a point to include her in your study sessions.

Remus was uncertain at first. But Lily was nice, and after offering him a bar of chocolate to share (in secret from madam Pince, of course), he gave her a chance and gradually got used to her presence. He even started engaging with her in discussions about literature, a shared interest. Over time, he even started to show his more cheeky side, with friendly banter developed between the three of you.

The other thing about Remus was his secret he went to great lengths to hide. Maybe, if it had been just you living with him, he might have managed to conceal it for longer. After all, werewolves were not high on your list of priorities to research. But with three magically-raised boys present, after the February full moon, there was no denying it. When the four of you discussed it in your dorm, having casted all sorts of silencing and privacy charms while Remus was recovering in the infirmary, the other three seemed startled, each on some level. Peter was outright freaked out, James was jittery, and Sirius was at a loss for words—a concerning sign, given that his voice was usually constant unless he was sleeping, and sometimes not even then.

You suspected it the least, and yet, reacted the calmest. And for someone who claimed he knew since november, James seemed really torn about what to do next.

It wasn't a matter of sticking by Remus - well maybe a little for Peter - but overall, the challenge was dealing with the whole ordeal. "How do we tell him we know? How do we help him? Should we tell him anything?"

You settled on subtlety. The plan was simple: mention the subject "casually", show support, and then quickly move on to a different topic. Simple.

But Remus was way too smart, and soon enough, he began retreating from you. You started catching him sleeping in the common room and could barely get a word in between classes, as he somehow always had a place to be or homework to do. So you had to take extreme measures.

One day, after letting him avoid all four of you, you waited until he returned to the dorm to take a shower. You went in while he was in the bathroom, locked the door, again casted all known privacy and silencing charms and waited to ambush him with support and love.

So that's what you did. The moment he exited the bathroom and saw all four of you, he knew what it was about. He went to the door, but it wouldn't budge, and you made sure a simple alohomora would not even make the lock stir.

That evening involved a lot of screaming, tears, crying and finally, hugs.

"S- So, you- you really- you don't mind? I'm a monster" he said, with tears streaming down to the floor.

"Of course we don't Rem. You're our friend." said James.

At that he only cried more. James hugged him first, followed by the rest of you. Ultimatelly, you all woke up with back pain from sleeping huddled up together on the floor, but closer than ever.

______________________________________________________________

The Christmas and Easter holidays you spent back home were uneventful. You were asked if you were doing well at school, and upon affirming, you were not pressed further. You didn’t even get the chance to talk about how Professor McGonagall had called you a prodigy, or how you had successfully cast some NEWT-level charms already. Nothing about your victories in the school dueling club. You didn’t get to complain about Potions or History. You were told to stick with the story your parents had concocted while you were away—that you were attending a boarding school in Scotland and that there was nothing special about it.

Your time at home only made you realise how little at home you actually felt. The forest was your reprieve. Beatrice the doe was always friendlier in the winter, knowing you'd have some extra carrots or other snacks for her. Nature didn't judge you, didn't silence you. You were in perfect symbiosis with it. You respected it and received respect in return.

So, it was no surprise that the last week of the school year was one of your worst. You wouldn’t see any of your friends over the holidays and didn’t have any friends to return to. You wouldn’t be able to talk with anybody about school, the latest issue of Transfiguration Today, or about Hippogriffs and Bowtruckles.

You could only cling to hope that the letters you all promised to send each other would be enough, or that they would at least pick your mood up a little bit.

The day before the ride back, you were sitting alone by the Black Lake, right next to the Forbidden Forest, where you knew no one ventured for fear of being kidnapped by centaurs or acromantulas. But that day, you heard a twig snap behind you and saw Sirius standing there.

Your sulking hadn’t made you blind to your surroundings. He clearly was doing even worse than you, and from his sparse stories about his home life, you knew why.

Neither of you said anything. He simply sat next to you, leaning against the same tree, and took your hand. You stayed there together until the sunset.

When you stood up, he held on, keeping you from leaving, and said, “I’ll miss you, and I can’t wait to see you in September. I won’t be able to say goodbye tomorrow, since-” he clearly didn’t want to mention his family, and you understood that.

"I will miss you too. Maybe we can write letters to each other" you responded.

He was going to refuse, knowing the risk of his mother reading his mail, but you quickly added, “I won’t send any. I’ll just save them up and give them to you when we see each other in september. You can do the same.” and then you hastily added, “If you want to, that is. I don’t want to pressure you into anything, I just-”

He interrupted you with a laugh followed by a tight hug. “I’ll write to you too.”

After that, you went on your way to the castle, while he waited a little while before returning. You both knew he couldn’t risk anyone from his family finding out he was spending time with a Mudblood, especially when there would be no time for tempers to cool down.

The only thing on your mind now, though, was the flutter of butterflies that erupted inside you the moment he hugged you and the tingling you still felt in the hand he had held.

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gabessquishytum · 6 months ago

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I get why 2020s Hob went into teaching. Your days are spent in one of two moods:

1. Marvelling at how smart the youth is.

2. Marvelling at how stupid the youth is.

Which one will it be at any given moment? No clue! It's educational Russian roulette, baby!

Meanwhile you have petty beef with a teenager whist simultaneously wanting to kick everyone who is mean to them.

Truly the full spectrum of human emotions.

- 🍃

I can only imagine the restraint that Hob has to practice when teaching the curriculum! But he loves it anyway, because his students remind him exactly why he wants to keep on living. They remind him of all the people he's known, old friends, his own family from all those centuries ago. He particularly loves working with the more "troubled" youth. He has so many life lessons to share with them. He's always willing to step in when things are tough outside the classroom. He's the teacher that shows up to theatre performances and school concerts. He gets a dozen Christmas cards or emails every year from former students who still think of him fondly.

Although he's exhausted, and exasperated by the fact that schools are SO underfunded, and although he hates spending every single weekend marking stacks of papers and tests, and although he fucking HATES the fact that he has to learn a new slang word every week (wtf is gooning, please help him)... its absolutely his favourite job for a very very long time.

#🍃 anon #hob gadling

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akaicodes · 10 months ago

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update to my roadmap of learning https://www.tumblr.com/akaicodes/744920785897111552/roadmap-of-learning-curriculum-related-so-far - 4 months later ♡

• C# - spent ~1 year so far practicing, more comfortable, can build whole sites/programs with little help

• HTML & CSS - started ~5 months ago, confident in both, can style a site without help online, still much to learn

• JavaScript + Vue - Axios - can build “full stack” applications where i do both backend & frontend and host online (love JS!!)

• REST - experienced for 5 months! can build my own REST API, use someone elses with axios & test it thoughoutly with Postman (+Javascript code)

• Unit testing & UI testing - learned so many better ways to unit test & UI test more indeph

• Started leaning Git more with commands

• SQL - can manipulate simple databases and more one from scratch

& huge thanks to my sister @niyacodes for being on this journey with me 💓

++++ I went to a 5 hour exam for all these subjects (+- more) and got the highest grade possible 🥹 (i failed my first programming exam in 1st sem!!!!) ((pic is my favorite after study-snack))

#programming #studying #studyblr #coding #cs student #exam season #100 days of productivity #codeblr #csharp #c

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chiseld · 3 months ago

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I FINISHED IT :D :D :D

Yessssss I finally got my fCC JavaScript developer certification :')

Of course they decided to go ahead and release a whole new curriculum a few days before I wrapped this up, thus making this previous version now somewhat obsolete (great timing, folks), but I don't really mind – I was only doing it to learn the skills in any case.

In my final project I got to work with APIs again, which I hadn't done in ages and always enjoy, and I got some practice with asynchronous programming.

I'm so glad to have this DONE and finally be able to move on! Now the only question is, should I keep working my way through the old certifications or try out the new full-stack curriculum? I think I'll probably stick with the old individual certifications for now, because it looks like the new curriculum would take me back over HTML, CSS, and JS for the umpteenth time, and I am sick to death of them and would really prefer to move on to backend ASAP.

#codeblr #programblr #studyblr #freecodecamp #learning to code #chiseling away #coding #programming #adult studyblr

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tiger-shrike · 4 months ago

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Pantomime: part 4

in which a plan comes together Preview and link below!

***

“Do you have an up-to-date copy of your curriculum vitae? We can rewrite it if you don’t, but if you’ve one lying around I’d rather use it.”

They had returned to Amara’s office, her desk covered in stacks of paper and the remains of some sandwiches hastily procured from the Necropolis cafeteria. One of her chalkboards had been cleared of its equations, and now sported several lists in Amara’s neat, cramped handwriting, the current one entitled ‘Supporting Documentation’.

“I believe so - Manfred, could you fetch the papers from the bottom left drawer of my desk?”

He hissed in the affirmative and shuffled out of the room, while Amara added the item to her list. “Does that contain your full bibliography, or just the journal articles?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62247403/chapters/161910013

#ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #emmrook #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age veilguard

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blackjackkent · 7 months ago

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OK, with Gale in tow, we're off to talk to the bookseller downstairs:

"(Literature department. Can I help you?)" the tome-seller at the rear of Sundries stage-whispers as Rakha approaches.

"Why are you whispering?" asks Rakha at a completely normal volume, having never been in a library or, frankly, been much concerned about delicacy.

"(Whisht! These books are sensitive!)" the woman hisses. "(They prefer an environment of quiet reverence.)"

(A/N: One of the options here is to then immediately shout at the top of your lungs, "IS THAT TRUE, BOOKS? ARE YOU SENSITIVE?" At this point, you're kicked out of the conversation, Gale disapproves -1, and both nearby stacks of books explode in a fireball. XD And then the bookseller won't talk to you again until you pay 400 gold to cover the damages.

Tempting, but Rakha isn't really interested in causing trouble; as usual, she just wants answers and wants them now.)

"(I'm trying to find out about a particular Netherese crown)" Rakha says, agreeably lowering her voice; with her particular mannerisms, the effect is a sort of rumbly murmur, like an earth elemental with a head cold. "(Have you anything on that subject?)"

The woman's eyebrows shoot up, startled. "(Bold!)" she whispers. "(You might've heard that our library has a collection other shops would lack the skill to curate. Between us, even Master Lorroakan was reluctant to house them in his tower. The pen is mightier than the magic wand, apparently.)" She snickers briefly before returning to a serious attitude. "(They're locked away for their and our customers' safety. Our finest reserve includes the 'Tharchiate Codex,' 'The Annals of Karsus: A Netherese Folly', 'Sights of the Seelie,' and 'The Curriculum of Strategy.' Do any of those interest you?)"

All of them interest Rakha, in fact. If these are tomes of magic knowledge, then she wants all of them and every bit of information they can provide her. But there isn't time, not now, to be distracted from the main point. The Annals of Karsus is certainly what she wants - information on Netherese magic.

Something, however, gives her a moment's pause - something she hasn't thought about in some time.

Nestled deep in her pack, untouched for months now and almost forgotten in her haze of other problems, is a book. The Necromancy of Thay, found in the basement of the blighted village near the place where the nautiloid crashed. A book full of magic which, even in those early days, she was able to subdue with her own natural power - but which, nevertheless, holds secrets she was not able to unlock.

It belonged, Gale explained to her, to a Red Wizard of a far-off country called Thay. And he used the word Tharchiate as an adjective to describe some of the magic from that place.

"(The Tharchiate Codex)" she hears herself say before she's realized she's going to ask.

The bookseller gives her a careful, narrow look. "(Interesting choice)" she says slowly. "(If I didn't know better, I'd think you might have 'The Necromancy of Thay' in your position. I'd advise tremendous care with the Tharchiate Codex. The cost of unlocking its mysteries is onerous.)"

Interesting. This is not an answer, and the woman seems to know it perfectly well - but also quite clearly has no further interest in giving more information. "(The Annals of Karsus)" Rakha says, somewhat irritably. Her voice starts to lift a little in volume and one of the nearby books emits a threatening belch of sparks.

The shopkeep raises an eyebrow. "(It is said to be written by Lord Karsus himself)" she intones dramatically. "(The Netherese arcanist who attempted to replace the goddess Mystra, failed, and was banished for the attempt. Great magical knowledge lies within those pages, but not many can withstand it.)"

"(That's it! That's what I need!)" Gale hisses eagerly from behind Rakha.

Narrator: The Annals of Karsus would no doubt have much to say about the crown's true nature, if only you could read them...

"(Sounds perfect. How much to buy it from you?)" Rakha asks briskly, ignoring the little voice in her head intimating that this isn't possible.

"(Buy?!)" Rakha can hear the effort in the woman's voice not to break her own rule and shout. "(Books as temperamental as these are not on sale!)" she hisses. "(They are secured in our vault, where none can harm them, nor can they do any harm. Consider yourself lucky to have learned of such a book's existence - and then forget about it. The Annals of Karsus are best left unread.)"

Rakha releases a heavy breath between her teeth. No doubt this woman knows what she is talking about, but the truth is it doesn't matter. Gale has said this book is important if they are to stop the Chosen and the Elder Brain. And, perhaps more importantly - these are books full of answers and this woman is trying to keep them from her.

She leans forward, drawing her lips back a little from her teeth. [INTIMIDATION] "(Unless you want a very nasty paper cut)" she rumbles, "(you're going to tell me how to get into that vault.)"

A little of the blood seems to drain out of the woman's face - but to her credit, she stands her ground and holds Rakha's eye contact. "(Customers like you are why I prefer the company of books)" she growls. "(The only way to gain access to the vault is through my office. And before you ask - no, you are not allowed in there either.)"

Ah. There it is. "(Thank you)" Rakha says curtly, turning away. "(I've learned more than enough.)"

"(You certainly have!)" the bookseller hisses irritably at her retreating back. "(Even simple knowledge of these tomes is enough to stimulate most.)"

-----

"Well. What a lovely woman," Gale says as they move out of earshot of the bookseller - and the books. "A proper respect for the power which can be contained in a volume of knowledge. Truly admirable in all respects."

Wyll gives him a sidelong look. "Are you intending to suggest we give up the search?" he asks, his lips twitching.

"Oh, most certainly not," Gale says cheerfully. "This is a case far too important for petty, quibbling regulations - and with Lorroakan out of the picture, we have full run of the place and I see no reason why we shouldn't take advantage of it. Still - always nice to see someone taking their work seriously." He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Those Annals are definitely precisely what I need. Somewhere in that vault are pages with all the answers about how that brain is being controlled."

"And the Tharchiate Codex," Rakha mutters distractedly. "Answers about the Necromancy of Thay." Absently she puts a hand on her pack where the heavy outline of the ancient book still sits.

"Yes, yes," Gale agrees brightly. "Much to be gleaned in that regard as well - if you feel your mental stamina is up to the challenge."

"Oh, good," Jaheira quips sardonically. "In my experience it is always a good sign when a book comes with a warning label."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #bjk writes her own party banter #ooooo i forgot that in this playthrough i'm gonna finally see what happens with the necromancy of thay :D #hector smashed it in act 1 XD

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koishiro · 2 years ago

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Pussy power | 방탄소년단

↳ SUMMARY: having to teach the lowest and failing class in school, you have to find a way to keep their attention and their grades up but it won’t be easy

↳ PAIRING: students!min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook x teacher!reader

↳ GENRE: smut with plot

↳ CW/S: mentions of porn, age gap, stripping, protected sex, oral (male receiving)

Part 1 | 2

main masterlist | kpop masterlist | upcoming anon asks

I gulped as my pen scratched out my signature, as easy as that.

They had me now. There was no going back. What the hell had I done?

I realised my first mistake when they reminded me that I had to show my legs again every Friday afternoon until the exams.

"It is in the contract Miss, under Miss L/n duties“ Jungkook reminded me.

"I don't remember seeing that: And "contract!" where did that come from? I cried with mock indignation. "It's just a paper isn't it? What are you, budding lawyers?"

Yoongi had just rolled his eyes in response, "Well, anyway, it's there alright“

They showed me. They were right. There it was, the bottom of the page. It was my fault for not reading the damn thing properly. (Miss Lushbody messes up)

But, secretly I was very pleased that I was going to be doing it. They had been working hard and I needed to keep the carrot dangling. Keep them interested and all that. So, that's what I started to do for them every Friday at 4.00. (After the bell)

It kept them back a bit, but, there was always full attendance: The girls always got away quickly, so they never knew about the boys’ little treat.

And, I must confess that I loved doing it. My justification being that It helped to keep my boys in line. Each time I did it, I shifted my skirt up a little higher, much to their delight. Showing more and more of my shapely long legs. And sometimes, if I was in the mood, they got a brief glimpse of my panties. They all liked that. And while they headed home, I rushed into the ladies again to finger my clit and pussy. Oh God, even a mini-display like that was working me up. And, as the boys rightly pointed out, it was good practice for the full strip which, I could be doing for them later in the year. I just had to think about that possibility and I got really excited...

The weeks rolled on and Easter came and went. I gave out stacks of homework for them to do over the holidays and despite cries of protest, everybody handed in the work. It was fantastic.

Amazingly, we got through a full year curriculum in less than 4 months. I had ticked off all the boxes and when the Ofsted inspectors arrived, they were reasonably impressed. I was proud of my class. They had backed me all the way and when the official report came through there was even a little mention of what a good job I had been doing.

"How on earth have you managed it?" Asked a puzzled, but, appreciative Namjoon one day when he called me in for a chat.

"Oh, we found some common ground," I was able to say. And, of course, it was the truth.

"Well, however you've managed it, you've done a fabulous job" he said.

But, then he didn't know about my promise to do a striptease.

The GCSE exams came round and soon it was just a case of waiting for those results.

With more time on my hands, I started to watch that porn video again; watching it over and over again. I was beginning to enjoy the end a bit more. The part where they all got to fuck her, one after the other...I noted the ecstatic look on Miss Lushbody's face. Brilliant acting? or was it real? It looked damn real to me. Usually, I was naked after copying her striptease routine. And now, I couldn't seem to stop masturbating afterwards.

Did I really want to do the striptease for my boys, together with the "other stuff?" That was what I was thinking about as I toyed down below. I knew I would be very disappointed if I didn't get the chance.

Then, the results came through and were posted on a big board in the school's reception area. There were the usual mixed emotions of joy and tears as the pupils gathered around. My heart was thumping wildly. How had they done? I was desperate to know but I couldn't bear to look. If they had all failed I would be so disappointed and not just for academic reasons. So I just went back to the classroom.

After a short while, my lot came back into the room and from the way they were grinning, I knew they had done well.

I got that pounding in my heart again, as one by one they told me what they'd recieved. My throat went as dry as dust.

I wrote it up on the blackboard. Most of them had achieved C grade passes. That's when I knew for certain that my fate was sealed.

Min Yoongi 7/ Jung Hoseok 4/ Park Jimin 5/ Jeon Jungkook 6/ Kim Taehyung 4/

It was incredible, because, my class had achieved no less than 25 GCSE grade C's not to mention a lot of other lesser grades. My headmaster and all of the staff were astounded. "How did you do it?" They all asked.

I reckoned that all this success wouldn't do my career any harm at all.

But, all I could think about was the realisation that now I would have to do the striptease for my class. I would have to display my naked body for them all to see. As Jimin had so delicately put it, they would get to see "tits, legs, pussy, everything."

Soon, they would be able to get a real good look at it and see for themselves. As I had that thought, I bit my lip and flushed with shame. What was I thinking about? Me, an older woman, no less a teacher, exposing her private parts for young boys to drool over? I hoped to hell no one ever finds out: But, as for calling it off? No way. I couldn't wait to display myself. I was looking forward to it as much as my boys did.

Although, I had started out with a "no-nonsense" short hair style at the beginning of the school year, I had purposely let mymy hair grow to shoulder length in the last couple of months. I wanted to look more like the porn star in the video I was obsessed with. Also, for my forthcoming performance, I had a plan to put it into braids like she did and this was because I thought it looked sexy and would excite my male audience. And, copying her again, I would also be wearing 4 inch heels to make my legs look longer and sexier.

Someone shouted something out and it broke me out of my thoughts.

I knew what they wanted.

Now that the euphoria of their successes had died down, my forthcoming performance was all they wanted to talk about. When and where was it going to happen?

Jungkook, my brightest pupil according to his grades, had an answer for that one too.

"Miss, there's a pub not far from here that has a room they use as a small concert hall. It's very private and you can have a lock-in. You could do it there!”

I considered this and like the others realised that it was an excellent idea. I had been worried for a while at the prospect of doing it in the classroom. There was a strong chance for us to get caught on school premises and that would have been the end of my teaching career. There was further discussion on details and I told him to book up the room. I even gave him some money to do it and a bit more for some booze.

Jungkook said the landlord would let us do a lock-in and keep it strictly private, if we bought the booze and hired the venue from him. "It's just an end of college celebration," Hoseok piped in. And, seeing that everyone there would be 18+ on the night, it was all legal and above board.

So...everything was arranged.

It struck me how good Yoongi was at taking charge. I was his teacher and at 27 I was 9 years older than him, but, he always seemed one step ahead.

"What do you think?" He said. "Start at seven? I'll make sure the place is tidy and organise some chairs for your... erm... customers. There's also a changing room out back”

Was there anything this guy hadn't thought of? No wonder he had done so well in the exams.

The night of the striptease came around, finally. By then, I was desperate to do my act. Anytime I had the chance, I had gotten in some practise. Miss Lushbody was getting competition.

.☆.

I was so nervous, as I drove down to the pub that night; nervous, but very excited. A couple of the boys -Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok- met me at the door, said I looked sensational. That gave me a boost, because, I had spent ages getting my hair and make-up just right.

It was 6.45 p.m. I knew that because I had looked at my watch about 6 times on the way over. On the back seat, I had my stuff. I had fished out my old graduation hat and cape for my act, as I wanted to look exactly like Miss Lushbody. Underneath, I would have a bodice, stockings and suspenders together with a pair of sexy black lace panties. I was ready, God was I ready.

I checked the place out. It was perfect and just as Jungkook had described. Yoongi had also tidyed up as promised and there was a front row of chairs positioned close to a small elevated stage. Music was already playing and I was informed that the piece I was going to use for my striptease was ready when I was.

My audience was all there waiting, and, no doubt pleased to see that I had turned up and was going through with it.

Jimin padlocked the door to the big room. We wouldn't be disturbed. We had the landlord's promise.

"Oh God, please get me through this" I prayed, as I went into the small changing room near the back wall.

I checked my make-up in the mirror again, still perfect and not a hair out of place. Taking a deep breath, I took off my street clothes and donned the outfit.

I was ready. Opening the door slightly, I gave the signal for the music to start, Then, I went out onto the stage. Suddenly, a spotlight came on. It was like I was a professional, although, I had never done it in public before. However I was confident, that all that practise copying Miss Lushbody was going to see me through.

The guys cheered and gave me a big round of applause. That gave me more confidence. I knew then that they were on my side.

Beforehand, I had reminded them again that there were to be no photos or videos taken. It was something that had been agreed upon earlier in proceedings. I had too much to risk otherwise.

Then the music started and I started to dance to it as I had practised many times. I had copied the sexy movements of Miss Lushbody and she was one of the best I had ever seen.

The act went well and very smoothly. I got everything right, every move perfect. First the cape then the hat came off. Then swaying and dancing as I undid the zip at the back of the bodice. My slim, shapely figure was revealed. Also, there was now a lot more female flesh for the boys to savour. The excitement in the room seemed to be rising and I was enjoying myself, more than I ever thought I would.

Then, teasing them, I took off my bra. I received murmurs of approval followed by wolf whistles. I was feeling great and in control. They liked my tits; "quite a handful" was how they put it.

Then, I put my foot up on a chair and began to unfasten my stockings. Nice and slow as I did, just like Miss Lushbody. Then, seductively, I slid the stockings down each leg. More whistles of admiration, but, I knew already that they liked my long shapely legs. They had said so many times when I had done the sample treat for them in the classroom.

Now, I was standing there in just my panties and high heels. Time for more teasing as the music continued to provide real atmosphere. The lighting obviously helped (well done Jungkook)

Then I had them spellbound, as, slowly and tantalisingly I eased down the panties.

"Oooh" they shouted as my pussy came into play. Proudly, I stood with my long legs planted apart to let them have a look: A good, long look. Everyone present seemed to be focused hard on my pussy, as I felt their eyes burning into me. Erotic shivers trembled through me as I thrust my pussy meaningfully towards the boys. They inched closer, heads grouped together; within sniffing distance, as they say.

"Look at your teacher," I was effectively saying look at her cunt. "I am exposing my most private parts for you”

I felt myself getting wet and knew with certainty that I would be heading down the same erotic path as a certain pornstar.

As a matter of fact, I couldn't wait to be their sexual plaything. I had developed that kind of emotional feeling for all of them.

To finish off, I turned round and went on all fours pushing my ass up and out; spreading my knees to give them the maximum view of my ass and pussy. What a sight I must have presented to those horny young men. By doing this, I was going well beyond what I had planned to do, but, I was desperate to bare my full femininity to them. It was, in effect, the erotic surrender of this 27 year old teacher, to her young male pupils.

"Stay like that Miss," Taehyung barked out and I was glad to comply with the order. I held my pose knowing they would be staring hard at my girly charms. I sighed, happy to expose myself to my young male students. It was what I had fantasised about ever since the idea of a striptease had come to me.

At that moment, I had never been so excited in my whole life.

After that, they were lining up to get at me and to be honest I found it almost Impossible to choose between them. I liked them all...wanted them all.

But, Yoongi with his top exam result was first.

"Steady boys. We've got all night." shouted Hoseok. He was right, I wasn't going anywhere.

That was when I reminded them all about condoms. It was a subject that I had repeated often enough to them during sex education and they had come well prepared.

As Jungkook was kissing me, I felt his fingers on my pussy "Oooh" I groaned. This boy could do anything he wanted to me. The others would see me allowing his advances, but, I didn't care, the striptease had got me so horny I needed lots of sexual attention.

I let Jungkook have a quick feel, but, the clamour from the boys I had worked up to a frenzy, all wanted a piece of me. Before he was pushed away, I whispered that he could have me later and he was happy with that. Also, it was something for me to look forward to.

And, It was all out in the open now. The boys knew that sex was well and truly on the agenda and that I was up for anything. Rotas, papers, contracts were out the window now. As far as I was concerned they could all fuck me. I was a bitch in heat.

They were all grabbing me at once, but, Yoongi stepped in to sort them out. He was commanding without having to say anything, they weren't going to mess with him. He commandeered me then for his own sexual use by taking me back into my dressing room.

When we got there, I noticed with dismay that all my clothes were gone. There was no way I was getting out of there anytime soon.

Yoongi unzipped and took out his impressive cock. It was thick and fully erect and looked about 7 inches long. I purred with pleasure as I took in in my hand. This was just what I needed. He stood me against the wall and I spread my legs apart. My pussy was so wet I hardly felt him pushing it in to me. He was going to be the first to fuck me and probably not the last.

"Oh, Oh, Yoongi~" I gasped as he pushed in. All the way in.

"I've wanted to fuck you for months Miss L/n", he said reminding me that I was in fact their teacher. But, at that moment it was the last thing on my mind. I was getting very excited sexually and nothing was going to come between that.

Before I could think of anything else, Yoongi kissed me, his tongue snaking inside my mouth and finding mine. Meanwhile, his big cock continued to dominate and ravage my pussy. It was such a size and he was intent on giving me full measure. In and out, In and out he hammered into me. I was getting the best fuck I'd had in many a long day.

" Hurry up in there" someone shouted - likely Jimin, but, Yoongi just kept on fucking me with piston- like thrusts.

"Oh Yoongi," I moaned, as he kept on bouncing my ass off the wall.

"They'll just have to fucking wait," he growled. "’Teacher is mine”

He came, minutes later, with a triumphant shout as I felt his cum spurt inside. As he took his condom clad cock out, I leaned back against the wall and groaned. What a fuck that had been, one of the best I’ve had.

Then Jimin came to take me up on my promise. "I've found a room," he told me. I didn't hesitate to go with him. At that moment I would have followed him anywhere.

It was a small first aid room, but, with a bed in the corner. Trust him to have cleverly sussed it out.

"Is this part of the pub," I asked fearing he had found another entrance.

"Sort of," he said "but, it's within the locked area”

There was a fresh cover on the bed as he lay me down on it. Somehow, I felt that I would be spending a lot of time in here before I would be able to leave.

First he had a good feel of my naked body. Kissing the parts he liked best. And he liked a lot. "What a fantastic body you have Miss," he growled.

"Jimin~," I sighed.

I had looked forward to him ravaging me like this and he didn't disappoint. His hands seemed to be everywhere.

Then he spread my legs and worked two fingers into my slippery cunt before fucking them in a slow but steady piston like rhythm. I swooned in ecstasy...

"I've dreamt about doing this to you Miss every night since you first mentioned the idea of stripping”

"You can call me Y/n now, Jimin, since school is over now-“

"No"...he said adamantly. "It's got to be Miss or Teach. Keep the fantasy going you see”

I understood, only too well.

And then Jimin fucked me, taking his sweet time about it and telling me how much he had lusted after me ever since I had shown my legs in the classroom. Our sex coupling lasted a while before he came with a shudder and a long groan.

"What about a date then Miss," he asked cheekily, "just you and me?"

I looked into his eyes and didn't say no.

Just then, there were little taps on the frosted glass window. "You're in big demand lady," I heard Hoseok shout.

After Jimin, I had Jungkook. He was so shy that he hesitated to make eye contact with me. The poor thing couldn't get it up. "Aawww," he said in frustration.

"You're all tensed up" I told him. "Just relax. It will come”

I let him fondle my breasts for a while until his cock finally sprung to life. "I've never had a blow job", he confessed. "Would you give me one?" I duly obliged.

As soon as my lips touched the tip of his cock, it went really hard. It was a big cock, similar size to Yoongi’s and I soon found that I had trouble fitting most of it in my mouth. I gave it plenty of loving attention, using my expertise to lick, suck and excite him. This boy was in ecstasy, but, soon found it all too much. In a short time he was spurting his stuff into my mouth. "Swallow it," he hissed and obediently I let his white cream slide down my throat. Oh God, he was so cute...I so wanted to please him.

Jungkook couldn't wait to get in the room. I had been aware of him pacing with impatience just outside the door. He was already fully erect, so this time, he lay down and I squatted down on top to take in his cock. As we got going, I bounced up and down taking his erection all the way in. This way I dictated the fuck. As we built up a steady rhythm he reached up and groped my tits. My nipples stood out proud as they usually did with handling like this. As we fucked I threw back my head and moaned...it was so good.

"Go for it Kook!" were the words shouted through the doorway. They thought he was giving it to me real good and proper. Well it was his ramrod cock that was impaling me so I suppose they were right. But I was in control and loving every second of it. "Stay hard" I urgedmd him as I kept up the action. Why was fucking so wonderful? It was heavenly and lasted a good while before he reached his climax.

Oh God! I remember thinking, I had to have him again...

Taehyung wanted me next. Jungkook had hardly left the room before he was bustling his way in. "I want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, Teach," he announced. "You've lectured me with it often enough this year. Now it can do something useful for a change”

"But do it good," he warned as I took his hard cock in my hands and gladly started to suck. It was a bigger than Jimin’s, but, wisely, I didn't say so because ears might be listening and the boy himself might be standing right outside. So, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of having that big thing in my mouth. Lovingly, I licked the length of the shaft, before I got down to a rhythmic sucking motion. I tried to make it last, but, soon Taehyung was shuddering and I felt him about to explode. Then I got it all, as a jet of cum cascaded into my mouth and throat.

Taehyung ordered me to swallow..."every last drop" But I was doing that already. I gulped it down, spurt after spurt, before licking my lips. Yummy.

I thought about how many cocks I had seen to since my strip and did a count. "Where's Hoseok" I asked.

He was sitting in a daze in the front row. His eyes fixed on the stage and nursing a pint of beer. As if hoping I was going to do a repeat performance.

He turned his head when he heard me. "Hello Miss," he said. "Don't forget me, will you”

As if I would.

"I ain't had my fuck yet, Miss", he said reminding me in a husky voice. "And seeing how you went on your hands and knees and pushed your ass in the air, I fancy having you doggy style..."

Frank found a worn old sofa and turned it round so he could drape me over it. It was just the right height for a rear entry, my curvaceous ass so tempting. I was like a rag doll as he spread my legs apart and had a well - deserved feel of my thighs and bum.

"Go for it Hoseok," I urged. After all he had been patiently waiting while the others had been having fun. But, now, it was his turn to get sexily intimate with his teacher and he announced his intention to give me a damn good fucking.

I felt his big cock penetrate my wet pussy and sighed happily in surrender letting it happen. He humped me good and proper, his powerful thrusts nearly lifting me off balance. I hung on desperately, as his big cock plumbed and ravaged the depths of my pussy with devastating effect.

Everyone else just stood and watched. No doubt admiring his cockmanship and watching me getting well and truly fucked.

My inevitable orgasm came, like a tidal wave, as Hoseok’s relentless fucking sent me over the edge. With all the sexual attention I had been having, I suppose that this rare event for me had been inevitable. I was told later that my unbridled scream of ecstasy filled the room, as everyone stopped and watched my complete and utter sexual degradation.

I was their disgraced slut of a teacher.

I am ashamed to say that my vows and responsibilities as a teacher were swept aside that night as, one by one, the boys in my class lined up and sexually used me again and again. It went on ‘til closing time and beyond. At the end I was "literally" fucked out. Second time around, the pace was slower and they enjoyed me more. They respected each other's time with their teacher. Lots of kissing and feeling as the night wore on.

They were very good after that, I have to say. My clothes were returned and I stuffed my stripper outfit into a carrier bag. I managed to get my make-up and general appearance back to something normal and the boys chipped in for a taxi to take me home. Hopefully, the excited flush on my face would die down a bit before I had to face the public eye.

Before I left, six telephone numbers were pushed into my pocket. They didn't want to lose touch, they said. All of them wanted to see me again.

And that pleased me to no end, because, after all that had happened between me and my five boys, I too wanted to keep in contact.

As I sped off home in the taxi, I wondered idly what next year's class would be like.

Part 1 | 2

Date posted: 17/08/23

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

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ploshansky · 2 days ago

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spite truly is a powerful motivator because i've spent the better part of a year only using pinterest boards and neatly organized notion templates for motivation and usually that would work for like. five seconds but none of that has compelled me to clock in as many hours into coding/figma/adobe like taking the absolutely abysmal job market for designers personally. like "oh you're going to be a shitty job market? fine. fuck you i'm going to finish my portfolio and also course correct and enroll in a full stack developer curriculum. fuck you fuck you fuck you i hate you." for like two weeks straight i've been locked in and pissed. you neeeed to take everything personally everyone in this world is out to get you and you specifically. it's the only way to get anything done. box breathing is not a temporary method for stress relief it is a way of life. a resting heart rate of 80-100 bpm is good because it means you are awake and aware of the enemy. i am both the victim and the aggressor

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mjonthetrack · 1 month ago

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audit only

Chapter One Hundred Eleven — “You Don’t Have to Carry It Alone”

The wedding was creeping up faster than anyone expected.

And somehow, Jordan was drowning in everything.

Syllabi to finalize. Midterms to grade. Conference proposals. Department emails piling up. Students needing extra support. Faculty meetings running over time. Curriculum adjustments for incoming freshmen.

And now?

Venue decisions. Guest lists. Bridal fittings. Cake tastings. Dress alterations. Seating charts. Color swatches. Vendors calling. People texting. Her mother emailing.

Jordan barely had the energy to eat.

She’d taken to falling asleep in random places around the beach house — face-down in a stack of student essays, curled up sideways on the sectional still wearing her glasses, even once half-asleep in the hallway, forehead pressed to the wall like she was buffering.

Jey found her like that more than once.

And each time, something in him cracked open a little more.

It was after midnight when he heard her softly crying.

Not loud. Not broken. Just the kind of tears that slipped out when exhaustion won and pride lost.

She was on the edge of their bed, wearing one of his black tees and her bonnet, her laptop open in front of her and a spreadsheet glowing through her blurred vision.

There was a picture of tiered cakes on one tab, an RSVP tracker on another, and her planner blinking with overdue reminders.

“Jordan…” Jey's voice was low, careful.

She didn’t even look up.

“I haven’t even picked the flowers, I still don’t know what kind of dress I want, and everyone keeps asking about the menu, and I have fifteen senior theses to review, and—”

Her voice broke. She covered her face with both hands and crumpled forward in the most silent, overwhelmed sob.

And Jey was on her in a flash.

He crouched down in front of her, gently pulling her hands from her face, cradling her cheeks in his big palms.

“Baby… breathe. Just breathe.”

Jordan sniffled, but her lashes fluttered open.

Jey didn’t say it’s gonna be okay.

He didn’t say you’re doing too much.

He just leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers.

“You don’t have to carry all this by yourself. You hear me?”

She nodded, but it was small and unsure.

So he kept going.

“I don’t care if we get married in a courthouse or barefoot on this damn beach. You my wife in every way that matters already. But I am gonna make sure we do this the way you want — without you fallin’ apart to get there.”

Jordan trembled, biting her lip.

“I just… I wanted to make it special for you too. I didn’t want to drop the ball.”

“You could throw the whole ball out the damn window and I’d still think you the most incredible woman I ever met.” He kissed the side of her temple. “Let me take the lead for a bit. We in this together.”

And he meant it.

The next morning, Jordan woke up to a full breakfast spread.

She didn’t even remember falling asleep — just being pulled under the covers, a warm body spooning her from behind, soft lips whispering rest now, baby, I got it.

Now she blinked blearily at the tray on the nightstand: fruit, eggs, crispy potatoes, French toast. Her laptop had been closed and put away. Her phone set to Do Not Disturb. A sticky note in Jey’s scrawl read:

“Go back to sleep. You deserve it. I called the planner, picked three cake options, narrowed down venues, and asked your mama for the guest list. All you gotta do is show up and say yes to me.”

Her chest tightened.

In the best way.

Jey had turned the house into a temporary operations center.

He FaceTimed with Jordan’s mother, confirmed guest travel details with his own, sent updated checklists to the wedding planner, and answered every vendor call like it was game day.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pause.

He carried the whole thing on his back with that signature calm intensity of his, all while still making time to kiss Jordan’s forehead, bring her smoothies while she graded, and make her laugh when the stress curled tight in her stomach.

And Jordan… let him.

She let herself fall back.

Into his arms.

Into his love.

Into the kind of partnership that didn’t ask her to be strong all the time.

That weekend, she found him barefoot in the backyard, pacing with his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, a clipboard in hand and a pen behind his ear like a wedding planner from the block.

She just stood there in the doorway in awe, wrapped in her robe, sipping a smoothie, watching this man move mountains without breaking a sweat.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she whispered later, curled in his lap on the couch.

Jey kissed her hair. “Because it’s you. You carry me every day, Jordan. Let me carry you through this part.”

And she cried again.

But this time?

With joy.

With relief.

With her whole heart open and full.

Chapter One Hundred Twelve — “Not a Damn Princess”

The boutique was quiet — no other appointments scheduled that morning.

Jordan didn’t want the spectacle. She didn’t want champagne or screaming or “Say Yes to the Dress” nonsense.

She wanted a mirror.

A mirror and a moment to breathe.

But Tamara? Tamara wanted fashion week. And Corinne was down for anything if it came with free snacks and a camera roll full of black girl excellence.

“Jordan, don’t even front like you not about to make all these white women in here rethink their life choices,” Corinne said, fanning her with a sample lace swatch while Jordan stood in the changing room half-undressed.

“Girl, I just wanna find something that won’t make me look like a debutante from Bridgerton,” Jordan muttered, adjusting the strapless nude bra she’d been told to bring. “No offense to pasty corsets, but I’m not marrying Jey lookin’ like an 18th century butter churner.”

The consultant — a soft-spoken woman named Araceli — smiled knowingly from where she waited with a handful of options.

“Trust me,” she said, “I pulled what you asked for. No tulle. No fairy tale. Just clean, sleek, timeless.”

Jordan let out a breath. “Okay. Let’s try.”

The first dress was silk. Ivory. Straight neckline. Thin straps. Slit up the thigh. A slight cowl in the back that dipped just enough to whisper grown and gone.

Jordan stepped out of the dressing room.

Tamara immediately dropped her granola bar. “Ohhh bitch.”

Corinne started clapping in slow motion. “Oh this ain’t no princess. This is a PhD power play.”

Jordan turned in the mirror.

The silk hugged her curves without suffocating her. The slit showed just enough thigh to remind Jey exactly what time it was. And when she walked? The fabric moved — graceful, elegant, confident.

Tamara circled her with her hands on her hips, eyes squinted like a stylist at Paris Fashion Week.

“Do you feel like you?”

Jordan looked at herself. Really looked.

Her curls were tied up in a soft bun. Her collarbone gleamed. Her arms toned from late night boxing workouts with Jey. No sparkles. No dramatic veil. Just her.

“I do.”

“Then that’s it,” Corinne said simply. “You got your dress.”

They did try on one more — a sleek ivory column dress with an asymmetrical neckline and a deep back — just to be sure.

But it was clear.

Jordan wasn’t looking to be a bride out of a fantasy. She wanted to be herself. The woman who let this man in when the world doubted him. The woman who taught class by day and cried in his arms at night. The woman who wrote policy with fire and made love with tenderness. The woman who wasn’t trying to be chosen.

She chose.

And she looked like it.

As she changed back into her jeans and oversized sweatshirt, she looked at the dress hanging in the room. Simple. Architectural. Bold.

Tamara peeked her head in. “So… we gettin’ cake after this or what?”

Jordan grinned. “Only if it’s red velvet.”

“God, I love you,” Corinne called from the couch outside.

Jordan gave the dress one last glance and zipped up the garment bag.

This wasn’t a moment for twirls or tiaras.

It was for the woman who had already built the kingdom — and was walking down the aisle to crown the one man who had the strength to rule it with her.

Chapter One Hundred Thirteen — “Brotherhood Before Bars”

The garage was alive — loud hip-hop blasting, low lights, beer cans scattered, and the unmistakable smell of smoked ribs drifting from the backyard grill.

Jimmy was already two beers in, looking like the king of the world as he swayed to the beat, while Sefa tried (and failed) to juggle a basketball and a drink without spilling either.

Jey sat back, cracking a sly smile as he watched his brothers’ antics — a mix of nostalgia and anticipation swirling inside him.

The Chaos

“Man, why you acting like you forgot how to throw a party?” Jimmy teased, tossing a half-eaten rib at Sefa, who ducked just in time.

“Bro, I’m focused. This ain’t just any night. It’s your night,” Sefa said, wiping sauce off his chin.

“Yeah, Jey gotta look good for his girl,” Jimmy added, raising his beer. “You know how many hearts she done stolen?”

“Man, Jordan’s on a whole other level,” Jey grinned, shaking his head. “She keeps me right.”

Suddenly, Corinne and Tamara walked in, carrying trays of homemade wings and giant platters of snacks, looking ready to crash the party with that signature sass.

“Y’all boys think you wild?” Tamara laughed. “Girl, we about to turn this up.”

The brothers cheered, the energy jumping up a notch.

The Hilarious Mess

Hours later, after too many rounds of truth or dare, Jenga with impossible rules, and Tamara lighting Jimmy’s blunt with more flair than a stage magician, the party had descended into full-blown chaos.

Corinne was sprawled on the couch, halfway through a chocolate cake she swore was “a spiritual experience,” and Tamara was whispering fiercely to Jimmy, who was wearing a ridiculous party hat like it was his crown.

Jey tried to keep up, but every time he looked at his phone, a message from Jordan popped up: Love you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. He laughed quietly, shaking his head. Yeah, she definitely wouldn’t approve of some of this.

The Real Talk

At some point, the music faded to a background hum, and the brothers found themselves on the back porch, beers in hand, faces sober and open.

Jimmy broke the silence. “You ready for this, bro? The wedding? The whole grown-ass-man thing?”

Jey sighed. “Man, I don’t know. It feels like I’m finally breathing, but also… like the weight of everything I left behind is catching up.”

Sefa nodded. “We see you, Jey. We know what you’ve been through. It ain’t just about us being brothers — it’s about us holding you up.”

Jimmy’s voice cracked slightly. “You ain’t alone no more. That’s what I want you to remember. We got you.”

Jey looked at them both, the laughter and madness from earlier fading into something deeper — a moment of true brotherhood, raw and unbreakable.

Closing

As the night wound down, Jordan’s voice came through on a call — “You still up?”

Jey smiled, his heart full.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just with my brothers. We’re good.”

And in that instant, all the noise and chaos made sense — because this was his family, his foundation, and soon, he’d be building a new one.

Chapter 114

The soft hum of the late afternoon filtered through the blinds as Jordan leaned back against the pillows, eyes heavy with exhaustion. The mountain of grading, course prep, and wedding details had drained her beyond words. She wanted to do it all, to have everything perfect—but the weight was crushing. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of a half-empty coffee cup as her mind wandered toward the endless to-do list.

A sudden burst of energy interrupted the quiet—the door swung open and Jey strode in like he owned the place, his grin bright enough to light the whole room.

“Baby, you gotta hear this,” he said, dropping a thick folder on the bed with a soft thud. The confidence in his voice made her sit up a little straighter, curiosity piqued.

Jordan gave a tired smile, “Jey, you don’t have to—”

“Nah,” he cut her off gently, sitting down beside her, pulling out a handful of glossy photos and fabric swatches. “Listen up. I know you’ve been drowning in all the stuff — grading, teaching, planning this whole wedding. You’ve been carrying it all, and I’m here to take some of that off your shoulders.”

She blinked, eyes wide and slightly teary. “Jey... you’re serious?”

He nodded, waving a photo at her. “Venue’s booked. Remember that beachfront place you loved? The one with the towering palms and that crazy beautiful sunset view? Yeah, it’s ours for the big day.”

Jordan leaned forward, fingers brushing over the image of the lush garden with twinkling string lights and soft sand underfoot. “That place... I love it.”

“And the caterer? I locked down their menu too,” Jey continued, pulling out a menu card folded and marked with a few notes. “They’re throwing in your favorite spicy jerk chicken, plus a bunch of sides I know you like. I talked to the chef — said it’s gonna be unforgettable.”

Her smile grew, the kind that reaches the eyes and softens the soul. She reached to touch his hand. “You did all that?”

He chuckled, pulling a soft fabric swatch from the folder. “That’s not all. Look at this. I picked out fabric for your dress — something classy, elegant, but no fuss. I want you comfortable, not stressed over a million fittings or drama.”

Jordan’s fingers closed around the smooth material — a soft ivory silk blend with just enough shimmer. “This is beautiful...”

Jey’s grin turned mischievous. “Don’t worry, no ballgown or mermaid nonsense — something you’ll feel like you in.”

She laughed quietly, the sound light but full of relief. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve done so much.”

He pulled her into a hug, warm and steady. “It’s all you, babe. I just want to make this easier. You keep doing the amazing things you do, and I’ll handle the rest. We’re a team.”

Jordan rested her head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. The tension that had gripped her for weeks began to dissolve like morning fog. “Thank you.”

Jey kissed her temple softly. “There’s more. I made some calls about the music, the photographer — everything. All the important stuff. You just relax and tell me what you want, no pressure.”

She squeezed his hand. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

He smiled wide, eyes shining. “No, I’m the lucky one. Now, how about we get you some real rest? I got this.”

Jordan nodded, her heart full. For the first time in a long while, she let herself believe that together, they could make anything perfect.

As Jey folded the folder and stood, he pulled her hand gently. “Come on. Let’s eat something and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some sleep without a single worry.”

She smiled, letting him lead her from the room. The future stretched wide ahead—brighter, lighter, and filled with promise.

Chapter 115

The clock on the wall glared 2:07 AM, the house eerily quiet except for the soft pacing footsteps in the living room. Jey was restless, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, eyes flicking to his phone every few seconds. The house was supposed to be buzzing hours ago — Jordan and the girls left at 5 PM, and now here he was, still wide awake, missing her more than he cared to admit.

His brothers, Jimmy and Sefa, lounged on the couch, shooting each other amused looks while trying not to laugh.

“Bro, she’s fine,” Jimmy teased, nudging Sefa. “She’s probably just living it up. You act like you haven’t seen Jordan handle a party before.”

Jey shot him a look. “I’m just saying... it’s past two. And no word. Not even a text.”

Sefa snorted. “Man, you worry too much. But if I was you, I’d be pacing too.”

The three of them sat in a charged silence, the kind where you wait for a notification like it’s a lifeline.

Suddenly — ping — Jey’s phone lit up. The screen showed Jordan’s name. His heart slammed against his ribs as he snatched up the phone, swiping to answer without hesitation.

“Jord—” he began, breathless, but stopped cold.

The screen showed Jordan, clutching a mini Chewbacca doll tight against her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, a bottle of Patrón cradled in one arm. She was whisper-sobbing, her voice cracking as she leaned into the camera.

“They don’t have chicken tendies at the club!” she whispered-yelled, her breath shaky.

Jey blinked, trying to process the scene. “Baby? What—what’s going on? You okay?”

Her words came in broken gasps, half-drunk and half-distraught. “Tamara and Corrine tricked me... they said we were going to Disney, Jey! Disney! But it’s this nasty strip joint and—” she sniffled hard “—I keep seeing bulges... more than I ever have! And I wanna come hooommeeeee... pleeeaaassseee... I want chicken strips and my fiancéeee.”

Behind Jey, Jimmy and Sefa burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs, barely able to contain themselves.

Jey’s eyes narrowed, but a slow smile crept over his face despite himself. “Girl, you wild.”

Jordan gave a hiccup laugh, snuggling deeper into the Chewbacca doll like a lifeline. “I’m serious though. Take me home.”

Jey reached out to rub his face, amusement and concern warring in his chest. “Alright, alright. We’ll get you home safe. I’m coming to rescue you and those damn chicken tendies.”

“Promise?” Her lip quivered, and even through the screen, Jey could feel her vulnerability.

“Promise. Now hold tight, baby. I got you.”

As the call ended, the brothers kept laughing, but Jey shook his head fondly. This was Jordan — fierce, funny, sometimes ridiculous, but always his.

He slid his phone into his pocket, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Come home soon.”

The brothers’ laughter echoed through the living room, the teasing volley coming fast and loud.

“Man, did you hear that? Chicken tendies at the strip club?” Jimmy snorted, wiping tears from his eyes. “Jordan really thought she was gonna ride Dumbo or something!”

Sefa slapped his knee, adding, “Bro, she probably missed the whole point of the bachelorette. This ain’t Disney! And she out here clutchin’ that Chewbacca doll like it’s a life preserver!”

Jey rolled his eyes but smiled at their antics. “Y’all kill me. She’s had a rough night. I’m about to go get her.”

Jimmy gave him a slow, exaggerated nod. “That’s right. Go get your girl, rescue the princess from the club.”

Sefa laughed, “And bring those chicken strips with you while you’re at it!”

Jey grabbed his keys off the counter, voice steady but laced with affection. “I’m gone. My fiancé needs me.”

—

Meanwhile, at the club, the neon lights flickered over the crowded room, loud bass thumping through the floor. Jordan crouched behind a worn leather booth, knees pulled up tight against her chest. Her hands clutched the little Chewbacca doll, which she pressed to her cheek. The bottle of Patrón sat untouched on the seat beside her.

Her lips were pursed in a deep, exaggerated pout, and she let out a small sigh — mourning the bachelorette party she’d imagined, full of laughs, sunshine, and Disney magic. Instead, she got loud music, shady bulges, and a strip joint that wasn’t even close to what she’d signed up for.

She barely noticed the door opening until a familiar shadow fell over her. She looked up, bottom lip trembling.

Before she could say a word, she launched herself into the arms waiting for her — strong, steady, and just what she needed.

Jey caught her effortlessly, pulling her close, his breath warm against her hair. She melted against him, finally letting the night’s disappointment and stress fall away.

“Got you,” he murmured, voice low and sure.

Jordan sniffled, finally allowing herself to let go as she buried her face in his chest.

“You came,” she whispered, clutching him tight.

“Always, baby. Always.”

Jey eased Jordan out of the club, his arms still wrapped securely around her. The cool night air hit her like a balm, washing away some of the haze from the strobe lights and the noise. She leaned into him, her steps slow, exhausted.

The drive home was quiet except for the hum of the engine and Jordan’s soft breaths against his shoulder. She rested her head on the curve of his neck, eyelids heavy, words barely audible.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she whispered, voice thick with fatigue.

Jey smiled softly, fingers tracing slow circles on her back. “You’re not a mess. You’re my fiancé. I got you.”

When they pulled into the driveway of the beach house, the sound of muted laughter and faint music drifted through the open windows. Jimmy and Sefa had made a full production: the Disney classics were playing on the TV, but they acted like they hadn’t even touched the remote.

Jey helped Jordan inside, easing her down onto the big, cushioned couch. She curled into his lap, body sinking into his warmth, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Best man in the world,” she mumbled sleepily, voice thick with contentment.

Jey kissed the top of her head, a smile tugging at his lips as he whispered back, “Only for you.”

Behind them, the brothers exchanged knowing grins, the faint strains of “A Whole New World” floating through the room — the perfect soundtrack for a night saved by love.

Chapter 115

The ride home was quiet, the city lights fading behind them as the car hummed along the quiet streets. Jordan leaned heavily against Jey’s shoulder, her breath slowing and evening out as exhaustion finally caught up with her. Her cheeks were flushed from the night, a soft smile ghosting across her lips every now and then.

Jey kept a gentle grip on her hand, fingers entwined with hers like an anchor. He glanced down and caught her half-closed eyes flutter open briefly.

“You alright, baby?” he asked softly.

Jordan nodded, voice barely a whisper. “Just wanna be home… and maybe eat some chicken tendies.”

Jey laughed low and warm. “Chicken tenders, got it. Your personal delivery guy for the night.”

When they pulled into the driveway, Jey carefully helped her out of the car, steadying her as they walked inside. The living room was bathed in the glow of a Disney movie marathon, and sitting cross-legged on the floor were his brothers—Jimmy, Sefa—and their dad, all watching with amused grins.

“Well, look who finally made it home,” Jimmy teased loudly, earning a sleepy half-smile from Jordan.

Sefa smirked. “So, you really ain’t about that club life, huh? Miss Jordan over here ain’t feelin’ the strip joint scene.”

Jordan stirred, blinking up at the teasing as Jey shot a pointed look at his brothers.

Jey smiled warmly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Jordan’s ear. “She was a little out of her element tonight, but that’s ‘cause she’s not into clubs or strip joints. She was a virgin - I was her first time laying down with a man. So all this wild club stuff? Not really her thing. This”—he nodded down at Jordan, peacefully asleep in his lap—“this is the kind of intimacy she knows and trusts.”

The brothers went quiet, their teasing fading into something softer, respectful.

“That right there,” Sefa said quietly, “that’s real.”

Jordan’s eyes fluttered closed again, lulled by the quiet strength of Jey’s voice and touch. Jey’s fingers gently stroked her hair, then carefully tucked a soft bonnet around her head so nothing would disturb her rest.

“I got you,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

The Disney movie played on, its lightness a warm contrast to the wild night they’d left behind. Jordan mumbled, half-asleep, a content smile touching her lips.

“I got the best man in the world…”

Jey tightened his arm around her, holding her close as the brothers continued watching, their laughter softened now by the deep love surrounding the room.

Chapter 116

Jordan groaned softly, eyelids heavy and mind fuzzy as she slowly blinked awake. A dull ache throbbed behind her temples, the remnants of last night’s chaos settling in like an unwelcome guest. She shifted just enough to see two familiar faces—Jimmy, his twin, standing near the doorway with a quiet, easy smile; and younger brother Sefa, leaning against the wall, arms crossed but eyes gentle.

She managed a sheepish wave. “Morning…”

Before she could say more, a warm body brushed past her legs. Kilo trotted in, tail wagging eagerly, nuzzling her hand for pets. Jordan smiled weakly and reached down to scratch behind his ears.

Then, almost as if on cue, Jey appeared with a small glass of water and headache pills. He knelt beside her, eyes soft with concern as he took her hands gently.

“Here,” he said quietly, handing her the pills and rubbing slow circles on her temples. His other arm wrapped protectively around her small frame as he settled behind her, pressing close enough to shield her from the world.

Breakfast was set carefully in her lap—a comforting plate of eggs, toast, and fruit. The brothers lingered nearby but said nothing about the club or last night’s mishaps. Instead, their tone was warm and understanding, a quiet acceptance in their voices.

Jimmy nodded to her with respect. “You’re family, Jordan. We get it now.”

Sefa smiled, softer than usual. “Nobody’s gonna judge you here.”

They all shared a look that spoke volumes—of knowing how much trust Jordan had placed in Jey, giving him something so precious and rare. The fact she’d only ever been that vulnerable with him made her guardedness around the wild club scene make perfect sense.

Jordan’s gaze softened as she rested back against Jey’s chest, letting the calm wash over her. The headache might still linger, but here—surrounded by this family—she felt safe. Loved.

And that was everything.

Chapter 117

Jordan had just managed to nibble a piece of toast when she heard some shuffling and muffled chuckling down the hall.

“Yo, you ready?” Sefa whispered, voice barely contained.

“Do it slow, don’t drop it!” Jimmy grunted, clearly struggling.

Jordan looked up, confused—but before she could ask, they came into view.

Her eyes widened, toast forgotten mid-chew.

Because being carried into the living room, one on each side, was a life-size R2-D2 figurine, lights blinking, head slowly rotating with the soft beeps exactly like the ones in the movies. And behind them, dragging slightly because it was so big, was a giant Ewok plush, round and adorable and nearly half her size.

Jordan froze for a second—then gasped, eyes going glassy.

“R2? Ewok?” she whispered like she was seven years old again.

The tears came faster than she expected, big hot ones streaming down her cheeks as she scrambled off Jey’s lap without grace or coordination and launched herself at his brothers. “Y’all really do love me!” she sobbed dramatically, limbs wrapping around both of them like a clingy koala, legs around Sefa’s waist, arms over Jimmy’s shoulders.

Jimmy stumbled back with a wheeze, catching her with wide eyes. “Damn, shorty got hops.”

Sefa laughed but hugged her tight, rubbing her back. “You cried over chicken tenders last night and now R2. This is balance.”

Jordan just clung harder, full-on crying now but laughing too, her heart thudding wildly in her chest from joy and the overwhelming love in the room.

Jey watched from the couch, beaming like the sun. “You made her whole year.”

Once she reluctantly let go, sniffling and wiping her face, she ran back to Jey and pointed to the gifts like a five-year-old with a perfect report card.

“Babe. Look. LOOK. It’s R2-D2 and he lights up! And that Ewok is bigger than my desk chair!”

He leaned forward, kissed her damp cheek, and nodded seriously. “Best in the galaxy, baby. Just like you.”

But before Jordan could respond, Kilo suddenly lost his entire mind—the zoomies hit full throttle.

The giant pup shot down the hallway, circled back, then went flying past R2, tail wagging like a helicopter blade. He barked, spun in place three times, and then attempted to sniff the blinking droid, sneezing dramatically when the lights flashed.

“Kilo, no!” Jordan gasped, half-laughing as she chased after him, only to fall dramatically onto the Ewok and lay there giggling.

The house roared with laughter.

Yeah. This was her family. This was home.

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