#i got CHILLS while watching it for the first time

[misctf]

Make it Make Sense

Adam sat at his computer, finishing up a calculus assignment. He was trying to stay focused, but his thoughts shifted to his weekend plans. A few of his buddies were going to get together to see the football game, and he was looking forward to his club soccer game on Sunday. For all intents and purposes, it was going to be perfect.

“Are you serious?” The nasally voice of Adam’s roommate interrupts his thoughts, “I don’t understand, this doesn’t make sense.” Kelvin says, irritation soaking his words.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asks, turning towards his nerdy roommate. There were nerds and then there’s Kelvin. At first, he was relieved to have a roommate that was going to focus on their studies. But Kelvin proved to be more of a distraction than he could’ve ever expected.

“You know what’s wrong!” Kelvin says, “Look!” He slams his most recent lab report on Adam’s desk, “A 91%! That’s an A-.” He grumbles.

“That’s a great grade.”

“No, no, no! You got a 96%!” He continues, “How did you get a higher grade than me?”

You shrug, “It’s not that big of a deal. You’ll do better next time. And I know people that would kill for that grade.” Adam says, turning back to his assignment.

“No. That still doesn’t answer my question.” Kelvin adjusts his glasses, “How did you get a better grade?”

Adam runs a hand through his brunette hair, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not supposed to be smart.” Kelvin retorts, “You like football and you play sports. Smart people don’t do that.” Adam raises an eyebrow, “You can’t be both.”

Adam chuckles, “Both?”

“A nerd and a jock!”

Adam smirks, “Alright, well why can’t I be both?”

“You can only be one.” Kelvin insists.

“Only one?” Adam chuckles. He wasn’t what one would consider a jock. Nor was he a total nerd. He always felt he was somewhere in the middle, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not much of either. What do you think?”

Kelvin gave his roommate a curious look, clearly thinking hard about the question. He slowly smiles.

“Well, I guess all jocks have big muscles. And I mean, those are certainly impressive.”

Adam raises an eyebrow and looks down at himself. He could see his biceps and triceps putting strain on his shirt. And his pecs seemed to be jutting out a bit more than he was used to. He lifts a hand and feels his muscular chest. It felt unfamiliar to him.

“What...?”

“And I guess it makes sense that you never wear a shirt. Jocks hate hiding their muscles.”

The chill of the room air tickled Adam’s skin, his eyes narrowing as his bare torso is on full display. Wasn’t he just wearing a shirt? He looks up at Kelvin, clearly trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Wow, I mean, I knew your muscles were big, but now I can really see them.”

Adam grunted as his musculature expands. His pecs filling with more muscle, while his biceps and triceps grew larger and larger. He let out a pained grunt as his shoulders broaden and his back fills with muscle. He frame a now hulking mass of manly muscle.

“And I always found it odd how often you shaved your body hair. Always going on about how being clean shaven helps highlight your pecs.”

Adam looked down and watched as his dusting of chest and belly hairs vanish. His skin now clean-shaven and slowly staining with a rich tan. A tan he got from all his shirtless runs. Shirtless runs? He shakes his head.

“Kelvin, wh... something isn’t right, bro.” Adam’s eyes widen, “Dude, seriously! Cut this out, bro!”

“Say ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ ironically enough times and soon it becomes part of your vernacular.” Kelvin mocked, “But I doubt you’re worried about that. You care more about finding the right lighting for a quick flex.”

Adam gasps as he feels compelled. He slowly flexes his bicep, the lighting perfectly highlighting his musculature and abs. He can’t help but grin.

“And I can tell you care even less for hygiene.”

Adam grimaces at the musky smell that wafts from his exposed pit. But slowly, his grimace shifts into a grin. Something about his man musk always brings him a sense of joy. The smell of a real man. He barely registers his brunette hair becoming lighter, until the brunette becomes a blonde.

“Yeah, a blond jock. That’s what makes the most sense.” Kelvin continues, “But outside of flexing and enjoying your own stench, I guess it would make sense if you were obsessed with...”

“W-wait!” Adam says suddenly, “Please... Kelvin...” He looks desperately at his roommate.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense.” Kelvin reassures, “Because jocks like you are dumber than a lamppost. Barely even able to do basic math. So obsessed with your body that you don’t have time to nourish your brain.”

Adam’s eyes widen as he can literally feel his brain shrinking. His intelligence, knowledge, and kindness quickly being overwritten. His school smarts replaced by gym routines and different poses. His empathy and kindness twisting into self-indulgence and narcissism. His eyes glaze over as they reflect his new IQ. A smirk forms on his chiseled face as brazen overconfidence overwhelms any semblance of decency. He looks up at Kelvin.

“The fuck you lookin’ at nerd?” He scoffs, “You like what you see, bro?” He flexes his biceps.

Kelvin smiles, “Don’t you have soccer practice?”

“Pfft soccer, bro? Really? Shit sport. I gotta lift.” Adam retorts. He looks over at his computer, “What the fuck is that?” He quickly exits out of his calculus assignment and stands up.

“Wait, Adam...”

“Adam? Nah bro. I’ve told you 100 fuckin’ times to call me AJ.”

“Right. AJ,” Kelvin says, “Don’t you need a shirt for the gym?”

The dumb chuckle that follows is music to Kelvin’s ears, “Nah bro, why’d I hide this?” He flexes again, “Trust me, the dudes and chicks at the gym dig this.”

Kelvin watches as AJ slams the door behind him. A grin forming on the nerd’s face. Everything made sense now. And while Kelvin celebrated his newfound comfort with reality, AJ took great pride in the looks he was getting from the people he passed by. Flaunting his muscles at every chance he got. His smaller brain satisfied with the attention. His dick twitching from the excitement of being lusted after. Because to him, this made sense. Who wouldn’t want to ogle over his hot bod? That’s right, no one.

[arkadijxpancakes]

Yes. The Weasleys had too many kids. An analysis. (Part 2 of 2)

So, where were we? Right. The Weasleys have so many kids that it fucks with their family dynamic and with the mental health of everyone involved. Last time, we looked at Molly and Arthur during the war. We ended in 1981, which means that all kids are born, now. Molly is still nursing. (It’s common to nurse kids up to two or three years, while slowly weaning them, so I assume that this is what Molly does.) She’s finally done with becoming pregnant every other year, however. And it’s about time, because her workload is bigger, than any single person can handle. And while it will decrease over time, it will stay enormous for the next couple of years.

1982 ��� Bill (who will be 12 at the end of the year) starts Hogwarts. It’s his first lick of freedom. There is no babysitting-duty at Hogwarts. All he has to do is stay out of trouble and earn good grades. Other than that, he is free to do what he wants. He will be the only Weasley-sibling in Hogwarts for two years. Because of this, his parents probably have enough money in reserve to buy him a full Hogwarts-kit without resorting to second-hand-stuff too much. (He might get second-hand books, but his robes and wand are probably new.)

At home, life is still hard for Molly. She has one less kid to take care of, but the kids who are still in her care are a handful. She still needs to teach Charlie. Percy got 6 over the summer and is a little nerd, so she is likely teaching him, too. Fred and George are still chaos incarnate. (And they are just getting started, really.)

Bill’s duties (chores around the home and watching his younger brothers) get passed down to Charlie. Percy might try his hand on this, too, because he is still in direct competition with the twins and Mum gives him attention when he helps her.

The war is over and the Weasleys start to feel the effects of this. As Death Eaters are captured and sentenced, the Wizarding World starts to feel safe, again. The stress eases off (but Molly is probably still grieving.) 

Arthur’s work schedule slowly goes back to more normal levels, allowing him to spend more time at home. However, he missed out on a big chunk of his children’s childhood. It’s also hard to return to his role as a parent, because at this point, the roles of the family are pretty much established: Molly is in charge and does most of the work. Some of the easier chores are passed down to her kids (first Bill, now Charlie, later Percy). This includes watching over his younger brothers while Molly takes care of her toddlers. It’s kind of hard for him to integrate himself into this dynamic. (Just imagine him doing the laundry or the dishes – it’s very likely that he has a different way for doing this, which could easily disrupt Molly’s workflow or simply just annoy her.) 

I think he will mostly stick to the stuff he did when Bill and Charlie were little. So he’s taking his kids out for trips on the weekends. But this is difficult, too, because it’s not Bill and Charlie anymore, but Charlie, Percy, Fred and George. Their dynamic is entirely different, and it’s hard to keep an eye on all of them, while also satisfying their needs equally. (Especially because Percy, Fred and George start to clash.) As a result, the trips are probably not as frequent as they once were.

It’s also possible that Arthur picks up his Muggle-hobby at this point. (Picking up this hobby causes him to spend at least some evenings in his shed, tinkering with Muggle-stuff instead of helping his wife. I imagine him to fade into the background a little bit, while he leaves the household and child-rearing to his wife.)

1984 – Charlie starts Hogwarts.

There are now two Weasley-Siblings at Hogwarts, but things are still pretty chill for them. It’s still just Bill and Charlie, after all. Bill is probably considered trustworthy enough by his teachers to receive a time-turner, so he can take all electives Hogwarts has to offer. (I do wonder how much Molly’s expectations are playing into this. She clearly expects her children to do well at Hogwarts, both in terms of grades and behavior. At this point, he is either a massive nerd like Hermione, trying to perform well to fulfill his mother’s expectations, or both. He is also setting a standard for his siblings here, whether this is on his own accord or because of pressure he receives from Molly.)

At home, Percy (now 8) takes over Charlie’s duties. He tries to control Fred and George. It’s likely that he fails miserably. They are just too close age-wise for this to work. 

Fred and George are 6 now and start to play rough. Last year, Fred turned Ron’s teddy bear into a giant spider (which probably caused Ron to develop arachnophobia). Next year, they will try to talk Ron into making an Unbreakable Vow with them. So keeping an eye on them is getting harder, not easier.

At this point in time, Scabbers exceeds the life span of his species. Rats can get up to two or three years old. (And Rowling knows this. This information is included in book 3, when Ron takes Scabbers to the pet store to have the witch there check on him.) This is Scabbers third year with the Weasleys, so his time is up. No one seems to notice, though. I don’t blame Percy (or the other kids) for this, but Molly and Arthur should notice that they don’t have to replace a rat or have a talk about how Scabbers is happier in the great rat heaven. They don’t and I wonder why. My suggestions are: a) They are either not paying any attention to Percy and his pet (which would suck) or b) Scabbers is turning into Peter and uses a wand (his own or Molly’s) to confund them as needed (which would suck even more).

1987 – Percy starts Hogwarts.

At the end of the 1986/87 school year, Bill (who is a prefect now) takes his OWL in all 12 courses Hogwarts has to offer. It’s possible he returns his time turner after this or keeps it until his graduation to deal with his NEWT-workload. He now starts his sixth year. Charlie is in his fourth year and is already on the Quidditch team. Molly is very, very proud of both of them.

Percy is a wee first year and doesn’t have to watch out for any younger siblings for once. He can focus on learning instead. He is probably the first boy in the family to end up with hand-me-down robes, as he has a similar build as Bill and Bill has probably outgrown his first set.

Scabbers is six, now. So he has lived twice as long as a normal rat would. Still, no one has caught up to the fact that he is awfully old for a rat. It’s very likely that he accompanies Percy to Hogwarts. (It should be noted that Hogwarts only allows cats, owls and toads as pets, so Percy probably got a permission to bring a rat instead. However, no one at the school notices Scabber’s age either.)

Life at home is still chaotic. Fred and George are 10, Ron is 8 and Ginny is 7. Molly is probably teaching all of them. Her workload is slowly going down to a more manageable level, but keeping the twins in check is still a challenge.

She probably doesn’t expect Fred and George to do chores and watch over their siblings. (At least not in the same way she expected from her older kids.) Mostly, because she can’t trust them to do it. (Remember the Unbreakable Vow? Yeah, that.) Additionally, Ron simply has no authority over them, so that’s not an option either.

1989 – Fred and George start Hogwarts.

In his seventh year, Bill was made Head Boy. By now, he took his NEWTs and left school. He probably returns home for a little while, before he takes the first chance he gets to fuck off to Egypt and play with cursed tombs. (We should probably talk about English wizards, Egyptian treasures and colonialism here, but that’s a completely different can of worms.)

Charlie took his OWL and is now in his sixth year. He’s still on the Quidditch team and should be Quidditch Captain by now. He’s also a prefect. So between them, they got all the big achievements Hogwarts has to offer: Prefect (both of them), Head Boy (Bill) and Quidditch Captain (Charlie). Bill also got 12 OWL, which is an achievement on its own. Molly will measure her other children against this later.

Speaking of Molly: While her home life is going to relax a lot this year, her expectations are still around. She is still expecting her kids to do well in school. Considering that Fred and George are now at Hogwarts, the old demand “Watch over your younger siblings!” is back and in full swing. I can’t see Charlie doing it – he has his head full of dragons and Quidditch and lived five blissful years in Hogwarts without the need to look after anyone all that much. Sure, Percy was at school, but he has already learned to look after himself. I don’t think Charlie will start with this now. Not unless the twins interfere with his prefect- or Quidditch-duties or are completely out of line.

Percy is a different story, however. He is in his third year and still taking after Bill. Just like Bill he takes all electives, so it is likely that he also gets a time turner for this. At this point, Percy has ingrained the idea that he needs to perform exceptionally well at school and Bill set an incredible high bar to reach, but he is willing to do just that. He also spent a lot more time at home dealing with the twins. Molly’s expectations for him to be a good boy and to look after his younger brothers will now put pressure on him again. He will probably try to control their chaotic behavior, but they are 11 now, and they will listen to him even less than before.

For Fred and George, this is heaven. They finally escaped the watchful eyes of their mother and have a whole new world to explore. So many secret passageways and even more victims to play pranks on. Percy is annoying, but they can play pranks on him, too. They will soon steal the Marauder’s Map from Filch’s office, which will open up even more possibilities. It’s great. 10/10, no notes.

Life at home is finally manageable. It’s just Molly, Ron and Ginny (and also Arthur and his Muggle-stuff). This is probably a nice time for Ron, because there are no older siblings around to steal his limelight. However, at this point he has the family dynamic internalized and his self-esteem is pretty low overall.

1991 – Ron starts Hogwarts.

By now, Charlie has left Hogwarts. It is unlikely that he actually finished his education, however. When Harry becomes a member of the Gryffindor team in Philosopher’s Stone, Fred says: “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant.” Had Charlie finished his education, he would have left in summer 1991. The quote is from autumn 1991. In this case, the quote would make no sense, because there were no matches for Gryffindor to lose between Charlie leaving and Harry becoming Gryffindor’s new seeker. So he must have left before then, probably sometime in his sixth or seventh year, after his seventeenth birthday.

It’s important to note that we don’t read about any fights over this. I can’t imagine Molly being happy with this, but he must have had her permission. (Otherwise we would know about it. Molly can’t shut up about the failures of the twins, she would not shut up about Charlie’s failures either.)

Percy is in his fifth year and a prefect. By now he is the career-driven rules lawyer we meet in canon. He will end this school year by taking all 12 OWL – just like Bill. (When Ron is made prefect in OotP, Molly makes sure to tell everyone that he is now a prefect, just like his older brothers, and she seems very comfortable doing so. I assume, Percy heard his fair share of this, when he was made prefect.)

The twins are in their third year and members of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. By now, they have earned themselves a reputation as pranksters.

Ron is the sixth Weasley-kid to enter Hogwarts. While his older siblings might have gotten some second-hand stuff, everything he owns was basically handed down to him: Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand and Percy’s old pet rat. To be clear: none of those things make much sense to hand down (or at least not to Ron).

Bill’s old robes should have gone to Percy after Bill left Hogwarts. They should be of a similar height, while Ron (as an eleven-year-old) should be somewhat smaller. Instead of handling it that way, Percy got new robes as a reward and Bill’s robes were handed down to Ron. This is clear favoritism on Molly’s part. It’s no surprise that Ron (who already feels overlooked by his parents) feels upset about it.

Giving him Charlie’s old wand makes even less sense. We know, that the wand chooses its wizard. Charlie’s wand did not choose Ron, so it would not perform as well for him. In addition, in book 1 the wand is described as follows: “He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.”

That thing is basically falling apart. That was either a lot of wear and tear during Charlie’s time at Hogwarts (considering the fact that we have not heard anything about this with other wands, this is unlikely) or the wand was already a hand-me-down when Charlie got it. In either case, giving Ron a wand that has its core more or less poking out, doesn’t sound very safe. I wonder why Arthur and Molly decided to do this. Did they expect Ron to have a great learning experience with a damaged wand? Did they want Ron to use the wand until it eventually did break, saving them another year or two before they had to buy a new one? (And yes, they would indeed need to buy him a new one in his third year, but they had no way of knowing that. Unless there are prophecies for that kind of shit. And even then. The fuck?)

Money is tight, of course. But is it really that tight? They could afford to get Percy an owl, after all. And buying a wand for their son is an expense they've had 11 years to plan. I understand getting second-hand robes and cauldrons, as they see a lot of wear and tear. But this should not apply to a wand in the same way. This is just really, really odd.

And then there is the elephant – and with elephant I mean rat – in the room: Scabbers. Firstly, that rat should be dead for at least seven years by now. No one seems to notice. No one cares. What the fuck.

Secondly, why is Percy giving his pet to Ron? There just isn’t a great explanation for this. Scabbers has been his pet for ten years. TEN. Percy should be attached to his pet like glue. After all, he has Scabbers since he can remember. Why is he willing to part with his rat? The only reasons I can think of:

1) He does it because Molly asks him to. She is clearly playing favorites, here. Not only does he get new robes when he becomes prefect, but he also receives his very own owl as a gift. It’s possible that this owl comes with strings attached, and Percy is required to give Scabbers to Ron to get the owl. Which would be a pretty fucked up situation for every child involved and should’ve been handled differently.

2) Percy wants to get rid of Scabbers. He doesn’t know about Scabbers’ Peter-shaped secret, of course (otherwise he would’ve reported this). But it is possible that he feels, on a subconscious level, that something about Scabbers is off. Not in a dangerous way (again, he would’ve reported this), just in an unpleasant way. (This would still be odd. Especially when we consider that no one noticed Scabbers age.)

3) Scabbers has decided that it’s time to jump ship. Percy just turned fifteen this year. He is old enough to grow suspicious of his seemingly immortal rat. It’s possible that he cozied up to Ron to manipulate both boys into making the switch. Or he turned into Peter and confunded some Weasleys. Who knows. He’s still a Death Eater and mass murderer on the run, after all.

1992 – Ginny starts Hogwarts.

The flock has left the nest. Molly’s work is mostly over. It’s just her and Arthur who stay at the burrow. She still takes care of the household, but the responsibility for her kids rest on other people’s shoulders, now. There is nothing left to do, except knitting, sending care packages, worrying about her kids careers and hexing the occasional howler. Molly could get a job now or pick up a hobby or two. I mean, she does read Gilderoy Lockhart’s shitty books. She is a fan of his, after all. But she doesn’t seem to enter any community over this (no fan club, no reading circle, no nothing. It’s just her). And there are no other hobbies outside of that. 

Apropos community: We don’t really see her having a community. She is a pretty important side character, but the books never mention that she has friends or other contacts outside her family. It seems like she is focusing on her kids and only on her kids.

Which would explain her meddling. Because Molly meddles a lot, when it comes to her kids and their futures. She keeps putting pressure on Percy to look after his younger siblings – this will expand to Harry after she gets to know him. Percy (still a good boy) does as she wishes. It’s not healthy, neither for him nor for his relationship with his siblings (who are mostly annoyed by him), but Molly either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. In the future, she will be very cross with Hermione after reading Rita Skeeters articles about her. She will also be upset about the twins' career choice and Bill's choice of girlfriend…

And yeah, that’s basically it. At this point, the family dynamic is firmly established and ingrained in her children’s heads. Percy is already set up to explode in the near future. Being Molly’s Golden Child is neither good nor healthy, especially considering all the pressure that comes along with it. His relationship with his siblings isn’t all that great, either.

Fun fact: We don’t know if anyone ever told him about Scabbers’ Peter-shaped secret. If it did happen, it was probably pretty traumatic. That shit-show was his pet for ten fucking years and he handed it down to his younger brother. That’s nightmare fuel, even if Peter never hurt any of them.

The twins have firmly established themselves as troublemakers. At least some of their “jokes” really aren’t funny and border on cruel, neglectful and/or harmful. (Remember the Unbreakable Vow? Yeah, still not funny. In 1993, they also tried to lock Percy in a pyramid. Yes, I don’t think they wanted to hurt him, not really, but that thing was still a cursed tomb. Things could have gone wrong, and at that point they were old enough to know better. In their last year they tested their joke-sweets on younger students who were neither adequately informed nor old enough to consent for something like this. Yes, they tested the sweets on themselves first, but something could still have gone wrong because of allergies and all that stuff. And after they left Hogwarts and started their joke shop, they do sell love potions to students, complete with options to smuggle that shit into school. Additionally, instead of going bad/losing their potency, those love potions get stronger with age. This alone is a horror story waiting to happen.)

Ron is affected, too. His self-esteem is pretty low when he starts Hogwarts and it will stay that way throughout the series. This will inform a lot of his decisions (especially the bad ones) in the future. 

We don’t know much about how all of this affected Bill, Charlie and Ginny. Bill and Charlie just aren’t as involved in the narrative, and Ginny stays kind of… bland and love interest-ish… throughout the story.

So… yeah?

Am I saying that the Weasleys did not love their kids? No, of course not. Especially Molly shows her love regularly. (Her love is more like a water hose than a watering can, however. Very intense and focussed on a single spot at a time, instead of reaching all her kids equally.)

What I am saying is that the Weasleys, as a family, are pretty dysfunctional. Many factors are playing into this – Molly’s and Arthur’s dynamic as a couple and as parents, the number of their kids, the war, etc. It’s impacting all of them negatively. Molly is stressed out, Arthur is out of touch and some of their kids lose their trust (either in their parents, in their siblings or in themselves.) It also makes their love feel conditional. The twins feel this whenever Molly is comparing them with their older (more well-behaved) brothers. Percy feels this when he comes home with that promotion and is demoted from Golden Child to family-traitor within a heartbeat. Ron has internalized it and desperately seeks attention and affection elsewhere.

They still love each other, but it’s a difficult position to be in for most of them.

And the worst thing: I don’t think Rowling notices any of this. She did not intend the family to be as dysfunctional as it is. She keeps portraying the Weasleys as this great, loving family who took Harry in when he needed it the most. And of course they did – but that’s not all there is to it. There are so many issues that go unresolved in the books. Molly never learns to back off. The responsibility for the conflict between Arthur and Percy is placed entirely on Percy, despite Arthur being at fault, too. The twins never really learn that a prank can go too far. Ron doesn’t really solve his self-esteem-issues. Rowling does start to give him some character development regarding his self-esteem-issues multiple times, but he always seems to revert back over the course of the summer holidays. 

The family really deserved more effort to go into the writing.

Note: This analysis is not meant to say that stay-at-home parents are bad or that Molly should have gotten a job while having seven little kids at home. What I am criticizing is the way we treat care work. Because it is work, and a lot of work. A stay-at-home parent is often on call 24/7. A stay-at-home parent never really gets to take a break, never can take a day off, and never just can leave their work for another day. But they do deserve breaks and days off, just like any person with a day job. And that is where their partners and the rest of their families come in.

And this is the other thing I wanted to criticize here: The way we glorify living as a nuclear family. It’s said that you need a village to raise a kid and I do think this is true. Having more people involved in child-rearing (be it relatives, neighbors or professionals like teachers) is a boon. Families had access to this for millennia. Raising your kids with the help of your family and your village was normal, up until very recently. And it’s a shame that the Weasleys seemingly had no help like this. And yes, I do see the fault with Rowling, who wrote them that way. She basically took the concept of the nuclear families of the 1980s and 1990s and slapped it onto the family, without any world building at all.

(Please also note, that I consider stay-at-home parents to be different from tradwives. When I use the term “tradwife”, I am specifically referring to stay-at-home mothers who do not just take care of their household and their kids, but who also commit themselves to having as many kids as possible and who tend to take on other duties (like homeschooling) as well. The most common examples of this are probably families who belong to fundamentalist Christian churches or cults.)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | September 15th-22nd 2024

AAAAAHHHHHHHHH it's season 8 premiere week baby!!!!!!!!

Complete

I Don't Like Your Boyfriend (I Think You Need a New One) by eightpackdiaz (Post-S7, BuckTommy Break-Up, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Wine night at Hen and Karen's results in an adorably drunk Eddie demanding Buck come over and cuddle him in the middle of the night

So tell me if I run away, how long will I bleed? by Dark_Rosaleen (TW: Mention of rape/non-con Re: Dr. Wells | 3K | Mature): “Can we… can we back up a sec?” Eddie says, heart hammering because he can’t have heard that right. “Uh, yeah.” Buck says with a bemused expression. “You had sex with your therapist?” Buck frowns. Shifts in his seat a little. “Yeah.” “Buck, that’s—” Eddie stops. Breathes. “Buck, that’s not right.”

the cat's meow by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7 | 4K | Explicit): Buck walked into Eddie's house and froze. “Is that a cat?” “Well it’s not a dog,” Eddie laughed, shifting so he was sitting up. Pinto made a dissatisfied little cooing sound as he moved, but settled in his lap once he was upright. “When the hell did you get a cat?” - Eddie adopts a cat and let's himself have good things.

Love & Other Surprises by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7 | Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After going to collect Christopher from Texas, Buck and Eddie turn up to the firehouse wearing wedding rings. Everyone is understandably confused.

I Think I Want To Marry You by MajorKoalaTea (Wedding Proposal | 5K | Teen): Eddie Diaz wants to propose to Buck so he decides to ask Bobby and Athena for their blessing. The universe doesn't make it easy for him. A 5+1 fic where Eddie tries to get Bobby and Athena's blessing to propose and fails. Plus the one time he succeeds.

Reaching For You by Inell/ @inell (Soulmates AU, S4E14: Survicors | 5K | Teen): While getting Eddie to safety after a sniper attack, Buck realizes that they might be soulmates and has to make a difficult choice.

Sweet Talk by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 6K | Teen): Eddie asks to crash at the loft while Christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. Only problem? There's only one bed, and no couch.

🔥 by any other name by coldbam/ @coldbam (Post-S7, Jealous Buck | 7K | Explicit): “Eddie, this guy—he gave me my name.” Eddie’s eyebrows crease together. “Buck here is forgetting the full introduction.” Bailey steps forward and extends his hand to Eddie. “Evan Bailey, 178. I go by Evan now.” He winks, and he’s still got Eddie’s hand grasped in his, the handshake going on a lot longer than necessary. But Bailey always liked to make an impression, especially with— Well, especially with guys he thought were hot. * Eddie meets one of those other Evans from Buck's academy class. Buck is totally normal about it.

Friendly Advice by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): When Ravi asks Buck and Eddie to have dinner with him, they don’t expect him to ask them for advice on how they remained friends after breaking up. The issue? They’ve never been a couple.

I’ll Take You All The Way, Boy Just Come Along by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Different First Meeting AU | 8K | Teen): The Diaz boys are having a rough day. Lucky for them, they meet a firefighter at the 118 who's determined to do anything he can to make them smile. It works, it really, really works.

🔥 you ruined my life by not being mine by coldbam/ @coldbam (Post-S7, Eddie Coming Out | 8K | Explicit): Buck stands up so quickly he nearly knocks over his drink. “That guy just grabbed his ass.” Hen tugs him back down to his seat. “Yeah, and Eddie does not look mad about it. Chill out.” * Or, Eddie spends the summer finding himself while Buck is forced to watch.

all you're giving me is friction by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (Canon Divergent, S2 | 8K | Teen): “Now that is a handsome man.” The first thing Hen notices about New Recruit Eddie Diaz is that he is in possession of a remarkable set of abdominal muscles. The next thing she notices is the wedding ring. And Buck is staring at him like a piece of meat. “Oh, nuh-uh,” she says immediately. “Don’t even think about it, Buckley.” or, Eddie is new, and married, and Buck won’t stop flirting. 5+1.

🔥I didn't know (that it could be good) by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Post-S7, FWB | 27K | Explicit): They're friends, that's all there is to it. Until Eddie lets himself into Buck's apartment unannounced, and finds him in a compromising position. That should be nothing, just something to laugh about down the line, except afterwards, it's like a switch has flipped, and neither of them can get it out of their minds. The solution? They need to get it out of their systems. Just one time, and things will go back to normal. But one time turns to two, which turns to more nights spent together than apart, and still, they haven't actually spoken about what any of this means for them. They're still just friends, right?

WIP

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 4/? | 26K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 19/21 | 96K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 7/14 | 32K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

Podfic

This Mortal Coil (Shuffle) by knuckledusters/ @danhalen // fic eirabach/ @eirabach (S6E11: In Another Life | 2-2.5h | Mature): Maddie was never supposed to be Buck’s mother. Eddie was never allowed to be his anything. But three minutes and seventeen seconds later, here they are. [Or, Maddie and Eddie wait, bond, and remember.]

Re-read

🔥 like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Fix-It | 21K | Mature): If you’d asked Eddie back in May what rock bottom looked like, it was his son leaving him. That felt like it; everything ruined so entirely that there was no way to ruin it further. There’s always more to lose.

🔥 situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) by heartbeatdiaz / @lonelychicago (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 4K | Teen): "You didn't know?" Eddie asks, calmer but not less confused. He frowns. "How could you not know?" "You never said anything?" Buck tilts his head to the side. "We were dating?” “I guess not,” Eddie sighs. His heart is beating a little faster, an unpleasant buzz beneath his skin as he all but chokes on a feeling he can’t quite name— it could be hurt or disappointment or maybe a mix of both. In that moment, he knows three things very clearly. 1. Buck is going to be the death of him. 2. He is in love with the most dense, most oblivious man on planet Earth. 3. He is too gay and, honestly, too old for this shit.

How Come You Didn't Tell Me We Were Dating? I Didn't Know Either! by Sonayesul (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 6K | General): “Omigod, I’m in love with Buck,” Eddie said, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to cause a crisis,” Frank said. “I’m in love with Buck.” Eddie repeated. “I should not have assumed your relationship with him,” Frank continued on. “I’m in love with Buck.” He’s like a broken record. “Maybe we should end early today.” Frank suggested and Eddie weakly nodded. ~ In which case, Buck and Eddie have been dating for six months. Except neither of them got the memo.

[fruitmins]

FRI(END)S | taehyung

➭ summary: in which Taehyung has some big shoes to fill after his hyungs went to the military. The stress of it all and utter loneliness causes him to make some grave mistakes. Like paying a girl to be his friend. But after months, he starts to feel something more. He doesn’t know if he’s just over pretending because she’s obviously just doing her job.. or if something more is there. And after a rough night, he finds out.

➭genre: short oneshot, slowburn-ish, angst, friends au

➭warnings: unedited properly, talk about depression, a couple bad words, he can kinda be seen as creepy but he’s just awkward i swear

➭note: i actually like this. chat i like writing, i wish i could do it more. Agust Dad is in the works tho..

Taehyung knew the members entering the military would affect him.

Sure they had moved out of the dorm and stopped living together ages ago, but he was saddened to see his hyungs go after being in contact for almost decades. They had watched him grow up and helped him through the complications of being an idol.

And now that he was making music and doing it all on his own? He felt the effects of their absence hardened.

He tried staying close to the other maknae’s but they were doing their own preparations for their solos and didn’t want to be a burden. He tried smoking but it would only stir up trouble and was too risky. He tried going onto Korean tv shows but it only felt like more work.

It started to get worse the more he worked on his music and the longer his hyungs were away. He’d stay day and night at the studio, working tirelessly on his album. And when he did venture to his apartment suite, it was cold and empty. The Bangtan group chat dry.

Alone.

He hated the feelings of being alone. After 2020, the tour being cancelled and not being able to see his new fans, being forced to stay inside. He had his members at the time, making English songs that blew up. But he wasn’t happy. He was alone.

And whenever he walked in the door of his apartment after a long day or night, he felt the same feeling. Dread, hopelessness. Empty. And then, the military would come and sweep him away as well.

He didn’t want to feel like that. Didn’t want to spend the time he had before the military being things changed for good, feeling like that. He wouldn’t put out good music for his fans and he wouldn’t do good for himself mentally and physically. He needed something, anything to give him comfort. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole he once been in.

Sugar.

Your brain's reward system is activated, which releases dopamine, a chemical that signals pleasure.

In this case, Sugar, is a sweet caring friend. A paid friend. Ironic to the fake name she gave Jimin, she was a sugar baby. You are sugar, in every meaning of the word.

He felt weird at first, when Jimin gave him Sugar’s number when he reluctantly told his hyung how he felt one night while drinking together. But after texting for weeks and a shiny NDA contract, Sugar was his temporary paid companion.

They’d text regularly, and when he was feeling his most depressed he’d pay her to come to his house before he got there. They didn’t have to talk, she just had to be there so he didn’t feel like he was drowning in his pity and loneliness. So he felt like people still cared.

As much as he hated it, it was working. The text turned into meet ups at his house. The chilling turned into cuddling. And hell, he felt good waking up in the mornings. Music felt less like work. Life felt like, life.

But working on music, and releasing it were two different battles. And doing it with a group, and being solo, were two different battles.

Taehyung put on a smile as he went backstage, the chilling sound of his fans feeling his ears as his earpiece now silent as his sound ended. It had been a while since he preformed at a Mcountdown, and he had forgotten how many strangers there were backstage as they started profusely congratulating him.

He put on a shy smile as people started handing him a small fan and wiping off his sweat. Before anyone else could crowd him, he grabbed his phone and excused himself to the bathroom.

He could feel his hands shaking, the pressure of being on stage by himself bringing back that some feeling of loneliness. He had forgotten about it because of the fans, but being backstage was much more awkward. He remembered how he used to cool down backstage with his members.

He missed them, dearly.

His fingers shook as he pressed against his phone screen, going to his messages and clicking the top person. He knew it was Sugar, he had only talked to her recently. He asked her to come over, and even sent the money in advance while also tripling the amount. He was vulnerable, and scared. He needed his fix. He needed comfort.

When he was finally able to escape the stage and was able to home later that night, he half expected for Sugar not to be there. The day had been so draining he had completely forgotten.

His eyes widened when he saw her in his apartment, lying on the couch all comfy. Her breathing soft and her hair in front of her face as she slept.

He quietly sat down his things and took off his shoes and socks. He had already changed out of his performance outfit and was in a baggy hoodie and jeans. He walked over to Sugar, brushing her hair out of her face and even that calmed him down from all of the chaos in his mind.

She had looked so comfortable in his space while she slept. So peaceful. Like she belonged there. He hadn’t realized how attached he had gotten to her until that moment. Her beautiful soft skin and playful hair. Her kind natural beauty and caring nature. It has been a while since he met a girl as innocent and sweet as her and the comfort she brought didn’t make it better.

He blinked out of his trance when he saw her blink, as if sensing his everlasting gaze. Her eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes, Taehyung smiling when he saw the familiar pearls.

“Oh, you’re back.” She said she yawned and sat up slightly. “How was filming the.. song?” She asked, sounding so unsure and confused in her half awakened mind.

He chuckled, being aware for some time now that she knew nothing about the idol life or even listened to his music, and it was slightly refreshing.

“It was good, Sugar.” He said, his voice tried and raspy from singing and talking all day. The word coming out as more than a pet name more than it being the name she actually went by.

He picked her up, hands gripping her waist tightly as he easily held her up so he could sit on the couch and set her on his lap. His large hands, so soft and masculine, gripped her thighs tightly, situating them around his hips.

His body relaxed and his eyes closed slightly as he felt her soft figure against his chest as she wrapped her arms around her neck, playing with the back of his hair.

“Thank you.” He said breathlessly, eyes still closed as he relaxed and let himself feel her soothing touch. “You’re too good for me.”

”Are you okay?”

He didn’t except to hear her voice, considering she just woke up and that speaking to him wasn’t mandatory or anything. Her voice was as soft as ever, extra quiet from the sleepiness.

Fuck, he was getting attached. He was being too vulnerable, it was getting too intimate. To real.

She was paid to do this. To act caring and sweet so he could keep coming back and she could keep getting money. But God, it felt real now. Much more real than the first few months.

He tensed for a minute, his heart telling him to spill out everything but his brain winning, like most days. “I’m fine, Sugar.” He assured, his hand moving to her hair, gently stroking it. There was a moment where he considered actually telling her about his day, but the thought of it made his chest tighten. He didn't want to burden her with his problems, wanting her to stay shielded to the harsh reality of his life and riches.

"It's just been a long day, and I'm not used to things being this way." He admitted, his voice a bit more strained than normal. It was silent for a minute before he spoke again, not knowing why. “Thank you, for being here.”

“I’ll always be here for you..” she replied softly, looking up at him as she laid her head on his shoulder. “It’s nice here.”

He smirked, a small genuine smile played on his lips before letting out a chuckle. “Is it?” His eyes flickered away from her and to the idle big tv screen.

“I was watching you.” Her voice came through as he looked down at her once more. “Your music video, I mean.” She corrected herself with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh.” Taehyung didn’t know how to feel about it. Of course he was proud of his music, but slightly nervous for her opinion. “What’d you think?”

“It was.. beautiful.” She said, her eyes sparkling as their eyes met. “It was slow and sentimental..” his face reddened as she continued, the words making him antsy.

“I loved it. And you looked all dolled up and cute.” She giggled as she thought back on it. “I’ve never seen you like that.”

“What you look at me differently now? You see me as the big popstar like else everyone does?” He said, trying to play it off as a joke even though he was actually wondering.

“No.. still just Taehyung. My friend.” She said with a smile and his chest tightened slightly as reality set in.

No matter how many nights they’d spent on the phone, no matter how many ranted texts he sent.. No matter how many late nights and cuddles. They were friends, paid friends at that.

He was delusional for thinking it wasn’t anything else other than a girl taking care of her client in order for him to keep coming back later and get more money. Even knowing this—

“You wanna.. stay the night?” I’ll pay you extra.

He wants to say, but maybe if he didn’t bring it up she’d forget that that’s what she was there for. For money, not him..

“Sure!” She said excitedly, making his heart flutter. He hadn’t felt this way in a while. Relaxed and comfortable with someone outside of his group.

She giggled when she saw his almost shocked reaction. “I told you it’s nice here.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at her. “Eh, I’m used to being here.” He gestured to his nice apartment penthouse with the view of the city. Expense brands to cook with and soft nice couches and clothes. He didn’t know why he was trying to act so cool with his grand house when she’d already seen him at his most vulnerable.

He knew from the first few instances that she couldn’t have come from a rich family, judging by her reactions and lack of knowledge with certain gadgets and such. Just looking at the things she did for money, he figured she hadn’t come from the best of the bunch.

“I mean, I already fell asleep on the couch so I might as well sleep there.” She said with a chuckle.

“You don’t want to go to the bedroom with me?”

The words fly out of his mouth before he could even stop himself and he’s surprised by himself. Surprised that he keeps trying to push his luck with this girl. God, he’d given all the hints but couldn’t take one himself.

“I—“ she paused with a nervous chuckle. “Oh wow.” In an effort to get rid of the sudden tension that came over, and to not feel like a creep, he quickly spoke. “I mean— we cuddle anyways. Why not just cuddle each other to sleep. That would help me, don’t you think?”

He felt like an asshole just saying it, but as a miracle would have it, she started to contemplate before shrugging. “Sure, okay!” She said with a small smile.

“Y-You don’t have to! It was a stupid thing to say—“ Taehyung quickly said, sweating as he tried to make it all go away.

“No, no! It’s fine.” She said quickly, the two looking like two teenagers. “I think it’d be good for me too.” She stated and Taehyung softened.

Taehyung turned off all of the lights, taking her hand gently in his as he lead her to his bedroom, a place she’d never been before. There were posters of the group and artwork on the walls. Glimpses of his hobbies scattered around the room.

He took off his hoodie, revealing a plain white shirt underneath before he crawled onto his king sized bed. The quality of it, like everything else he owned, pleasant. She hummed when she laid down next to him, sinking into the mattress as she closed her eyes.

She took a minute to relax before turning on her side and looking at him, who was already staring at her while on his side. The two faced each other, heads on soft pillows with the lights dimmed. “You’re different today..” she muttered her observation softly.

“I know.. that’s why I sent you triple.” He said with a soft chuckle, he knew he would be more clingy, more of a pain. He hoped she was okay with it. That maybe it would become a regular for the two.

“I don’t mind it, Tae-Tae.. It’s peaceful with you.” She said with a soft smile while stroking his hair as Taehyung let out a breath of relief. He had felt the same, at peace. Maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way he did about each other.

He wrapped his arms around her small waist and pulled her closer to him and his heart raced as he took in her features, copying every detail into his brain. She was so beautiful, inside and out. His eyes traced over her face, before landing on her lips. So pretty and pink.

He couldn’t stop himself. He had convinced himself that he would rather try to see if something was there than sit months worrying and dreaming about could have been. So he leaned in closer to her as he licked his lips, and gently pressed his lips onto hers in a soft kiss.

She smiled against it immediately before responding, pushing herself flush against his chest as he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His hand went to her back, gripping it tightly as he held onto her like his life depended on it.

He pulled away after a while, breathless and his heart souring. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while..” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her face.

“Me too..” she squeaked out, swallowing as she closed her eyes and kissed him again. His eyes closed as he relaxed into the affection, his feelings deep as they drifted off to sleep on each other’s arms.

~~

To his horror, Taehyung woke up alone the next morning. He could smell her candied, sugary scent but she wasn’t there. He could feel her sweet sugary lips still on his from the hours before. But she wasn’t there.

He sat up quickly, looking around and fearing the worst. What if she got lost in the complex? Or some crazy fan took her?

He raced to get his phone to do something, to figure something out. Only to be greeted with a notification that was received an hour ago.

Let’s stay friends. Just for now :)

[drulalovescas]

Happy 4 years to Dean's purgatory prayer to those who celebrate

[hauntingblue]

LUFFY!!!!!!!!! I HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!! LUFFY BELIEVER FULL TIME!!!!! LET US WORSHIP THE SUN!!!!

[coffeeflavored-tears]

ionic

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

[eddiesxangel]

1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M

Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship

Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words

“Come again?”

“I used to work a sex hotline,” you shrug like it was no big deal.

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Try me.” He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; you never had you seemed promiscuous.

You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.

“Ring ring,” he giggles.

“Hello.” You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.

“Hi,” he smirks.

“Can I get a name, handsome?”

“ Eddie”

“Mmmm, hi, Eddie. I’m Candy.”

“Candy?”

He breaks character, but you don’t.

“the boys say it’s because I’m so sweet.” You fake giggle.

“This is my first time calling. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk you through it… you want to get comfortable for me?”

Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasn’t really sure how you all ended up here.

“I’m comfortable.” He says without actually moving.”

“I wish I could see; you sound so sexy.” You sigh.

Another giggle leaves Eddie’s lips because who is this person who’s taken over your body?

“Yeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?” Playing into it more.

You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. “oh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.” You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddie’s eyes widen at what you just said.

“Oh-okay, that’s enough.” He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. “I believe you!”

You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

Everyone looked at you with shock.

Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

“What did you say?!” Robin begs.

You shrug in response like it was another day at work… which it has been.

“Damn, is it hot in here?” Steve pops the collar of his shirt.

“You guys need to loosen up, my god.”

While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.

“I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,” your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.

He can’t go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didn’t help.

A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.

“You okay, big boy? You’ve been in there fifteen minutes.” He hears you laugh from the other side.

Had it really been that long?

Eddie’s issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him… talking to him like that.

“Yeah-I-uh- just a minute.” Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.

You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.

You weren’t attractive… were you?

Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; you’re just a friend, always had been, always will be… unless?

The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful features…and when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he thought his.

“You sure?” You try to jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under with breath.

“Come on, Ed, talk to me, please?”

You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.

“Hi,” he’s short and sounds a bit out of breath.

“I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but…no.”

“Yes, but no?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didn’t see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.

“Eddie?” You look up at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes snap to your concerned face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-“

“You’re not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.

You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

“That’s not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.”

“I’m sorry, I just!-didn’t think?”

“It’s okay. I’m just trying to get rid of it, but it’s not going away.”

“You mean?”

“I’m waiting it out.”

“Oh, ok.” You nod awkwardly.

An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for your help if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Ok…”

Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.

“I um… I guess I’ll just.” You point to the door that he’s blocking.

“Uh. Ok,” he nods and steps to the side.

You close the door behind you but don’t leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? He’s a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.

With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before you’re able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.

You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.

Eddie was jerking off because of you… and you liked it?

Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.

He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.

You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.

“Woah,” Eddie catches you before you’re able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Oh god, sorry” you’re so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.

“You were spying on me!”

“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“You totally were spying on me!” He accused.

“You’re the one who moaned my name!” You defend.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened.

“You’re the one who said all those… things!” his hands flailed.

“You’re the one who egged it on!”

“So!”

“So?”

“Yeah, so!”

“Woah, guys, what’s going on here?” Steve pops his head around the corner.

“Nothing,” you both glare.

“Ohhhhhkayyyyyyyy,” Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Eddie,” you sigh, “I don’t want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“We could, but I gotta know.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you like it?” He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I asked if you like listening to me?” he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

You gulp, not expecting Eddie’s demeanour to switch on a dime.

“I… I don’t know?”

“I think you did, and you’re too scared to admit it.” You can smell him. He is so close to you.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You watch as he leans in closer.

“Just trust me.” His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Eddie?”

“Let me try something.”

“Kay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.

A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.

You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.

“Woah”

“Yea woah,” you repeated dumbly.

“um… did you like it?”

“Yeah… did you?”

“Yeah.”

“cool… now what?”

“go out with me,” Eddie states confidently.

“Like a date?”

“what else would it be?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to say.” He smirks.

“I’m cute?” You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

Eddie doesn’t answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.

“We should get back to the others.” You sigh as you pull away.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Yes, I did. I asked you out.”

“No, you said go out with me. That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Yes, you were totally messing with him.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Just say yes! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” You hear Robin yell from the living room.

“Robin!” You hear Steve scold.

“What?”

You can’t help but laugh and can’t believe the next world’s coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, Eddie.”

[fanaticalthings]

Bruce coming home one day to find Robin Jason clinging onto a chandelier with Dick below him cheering him on.

Bruce: Jason what are you doing?

Jason: Dick said that you missed his antics after he moved out and so he’s teaching me how to be a better son

Dick: After this we’re going to drive the Batmobile into the bay :D

Jason: We’re going to what? I mean yeah! Right into the water.

Jason trying to whisper to Dick: Dick I can’t swim though

This just further fuels the chaotic dynamic of Dick and Jason during a time where Dick was still going through his teenage angst and was absolutely not a benevolent role model LMAO

I mentioned it in this post, but it's just so funny to me to imagine a Jason who grew up with an absolutely WILD Dick Grayson as an older brother, while the younger batkids grew up with a more mellowed out and mature (arguable but when measured against the other kids, he wins by a landslide) Dick Grayson.

Robin!Jason era:

Dick: You wanna go out and get high?

Jason: I can't, I have homework.

Dick, sputtering: HOMEWORK?

----

Dick, about to do an elaborate (and totally not dangerous) acrobatic move in the manor: Watch this, littlewing

Jason: You shouldn't do that, it'll make Bruce upset.

Dick, on the brink of angry tears: Why are you like this.

----

Jason, dejected: Listen, I know you don't approve of me because you think I'm not good enough as Robin, but-

Dick: Not good enough as Robin? I don't care about that, I just think you're a little bitch

----

Dick taking Jason out on a hangout for the first time: OK, looks like I got my work cut out for me. Take out a notepad and write everything down. I will NOT have my successor embarrass me like this. So what you wanna do to piss off Bruce-

---

[Years later, Jason returning to Gotham with the fury of a thousand suns and the chaos to match it]: I'm gonna make your life a living HELL, Bruce

Dick, older and relatively more chilled out: Okayyyyy, maybe let's just– calm down a lil, haha, no need for the theatrics

Jason, betrayed, observing a Dick Grayson who is teaching his new younger siblings to behave and be mature: Dick, what the FUCK

-----

Present!Dick, mentoring Tim: Make sure not to be too impulsive, don't wanna raise Bruce's blood pressure

Red Hood!Jason spying on them from afar: Who even ARE you??

-----

Jason: So you teach me ALL of that, only to turn into the ONE thing you despised so greatly all those years ago

Dick, sweating: Well-

Jason: I'm ASHAMED. How can you be worthy of being called my PREDECESSOR?

[hottestvirgin]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.. | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

he might have just discovered another side of you and to be honest.. it turned him on

warnings(17+). smut, meandom!sunghoon, unprotected sex, name calling (bitch), creampie, backshots, dumbification

your best friend had just found your secret blog on tumblr where you wrote about all of the sexual desires you’ve had for him.

you had thought that you made the blog so discreetly, faking your own identity and who you were writing about. you had thought. nevertheless, sunghoon managed to find out that the blog belonged to you.

and it was unhinged; you wrote about how you would imagine him leaving wet kisses all over your aching body while he’s balls deep in you. or how you couldn’t even stare at him without thinking about fucking him.

how soaking wet your panties would be every time he would come over to chill. or how when you’d watch a movie with him, you would spend the whole time thinking of dirty scenarios: shower sex, angry sex, make up sex, floor sex, wall sex, pool sex, sex, sex, sex.

and you documented it all.. because why not? you wanted all your girlies who interacted with you to know how you felt about that man. you had no shame because of course he would never find the blog.

but damn, were you wrong.

it made your blood run cold when your “secret” username slipped past his lips. all the air in your lungs were stolen from that simple sentence.

“so that’s not you?” he cocked his head with that stupid know–it-all look on his face.

how.. when..?

“i read the stuff you wrote about me and it’s…” he paused, trying to find the right word, “wild.”

“it wasn’t even about you.” you argued, trying to act as nonchalant as fucking possible. it wasn’t working. sunghoon could see right through you.

“so the S guy you write about isn’t me?” he questioned.

well.. in your defense you were one-hundred percent sure that he or anyone else wouldn’t figure out it was about sunghoon just by the first letter of his name.

“you have a really big ego. what if i was talking about sunoo?” you interrogated, trying to flee from the scene but he took a step forward, firmly gripping your arm.

“d’you really think i’m dumb?” he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips as he spoke, “hm?”

“i-i said it wasn’t about you.” you said again. his grip on your arm had your stomach churning in arousal. your heart was racing, and you were certain that he could feel your pulse through your arm.

sunghoon tsked at your lie, “cool.”

maybe it was manifestation, or just pure luck. but that same arm was yanked behind you as sunghoon plunged his hips into you, splitting you open on his thick cock.

he cooed at your cute attempts at trying to squirm away from his staggering thrusts. “none of that— quit trying to run from it..” sunghoon grunted, voice trembling from how soft your walls were around his cock, “you was talking all that on your blog and can’t even take it? tsk.”

you hummed at his word, spit pooling in your mouth from being fucked so good that you couldn’t even remember to swallow anymore. “m’ s.. sorry, fffuck!” you squealed, but it didn’t stop his harsh thrusts.

he pushed your head into the mattress, treating your aching body like his personal fleshlight, “you’re such a dirty bitch. made to be fucked, huh?” sunghoon groaned at how wet you were and the sounds your cunt made. it was so filthy and only got him throbbing more and more inside of you.

he shoved two slender fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your throat as drool spilled down your chin, fingers digging into the mattress beneath you. you remembered writing about how much you’d love for this to happen. and it happened.

clenching hard around him, sunghoon pulled his fingers from your throat and wiped your own salvia across your face. “nasty girl.” he grunted, breathless.

you delivered a guttural scream when he smacked your ass, repeatedly. your thighs quivered as you tried to escape the pain, only to be forced still by his large hands. “c-can’t, i can’t! please..” you wined, screaming into the bedsheets.

“this is what you wanted, right?” sunghoon teased, referring back to your blog, “you greedy bitch, stay still and take this dick.”

you’re sooo full of dick that you can’t breathe properly. you were certain that you were taking all of him, but you can feel him sinking deeper and deeper into you as time passed. “i-i love your cock.. h-hoonie. s’ good, l-let me cum.” you whined.

“shiiit, go ahead.”

it took a long, hasty few seconds before you were convulsing around him and coming hard, harder than you’ve ever came in your life; everything cut to white noise and clear liquid spilled out of your cunt as his hips shuttered against you.

“that’s right.. keep squirting that filthy pussy for me.” sunghoon moaned. then he pulsed inside of you and shot his thick, sticky load into your cunt, painting your walls with his fluids.

it was like every muscle in your body had stopped working, body falling limp onto the bed. sunghoon stilled above you, pulling out to watch his cum flood and drip out of you.

“next time when you lend me your laptop, close your damn tabs Y/N.”

[writtenapoiogy]

consumed by flames; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: bathtub funtime 18+

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, bathtub sex, jacaerys is a pleaser, jacaerys loves wife!reader and creating heirs, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slight a little more than slight choking, breeding kink, slight dirty talk.

a/n: briefly proofread yet again it is 1am almost 2 and i've been up since 5am yesterday but i had to get this out 😁

You and Jace had just come back from a ride on Vermax. After the war, life on Dragonstone had been peaceful for a short while. Sometimes you wish you and Jace could lock yourselves away at Dragonstone and just kick everyone else out. That sadly, was not possible.

It had been a couple of months since Queen Rhaenyra took her rightful seat on the Iron Throne.

Which means the two of you were also still newlyweds.

Due to the war, You and Jacaerys had to wait to wed, which was dreadful for both parties. Once Rhaenyra had her coronation your wedding ceremony soon took place.

Within the two months since You and Jacaerys spent half that time at the Red Keep enjoying the celebrations and helping get Jace’s younger siblings settled in.

Nearly every day following your wedding, you and your husband had laid together. Every time better than the last.

You and Jacaerys had only been back at Dragonstone for roughly two weeks. The first week was spent wrapped in each other’s warmth. The smells of sex never leaving your chambers. Jacaerys was a man on a mission. He constantly wanted to please you. Teasing you till he knew he was the only one that could satisfy you the way you craved.

After that pleasure-filled week, everything sort of died down. You and Jace had been busy with the tasks of being the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. A weight you were not expecting to be hit with.

Your handmaiden had drawn you a bath to rid you of the sweat and scent of smoke that seeped into your skin. You were about to take off your robe and step into the hot water when your husband walked through the door.

“Jacaerys?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in your husband clad in a robe. “My husband, if you also wish to bathe I am sure we can get someone to draw you one aswell.”

It just dawned on you that this was the first time You and Jace had been alone in almost a week. Alone. Alone without one or the other being asleep. The stresses and demands of the day taking a toll on one of you or, sometimes, both of you.

“I do not wish to bathe alone.” He glided over to you and began to untie your robe. “I do miss my wife.”

Jacaerys ran his hands down your sternum after loosening the knot. You took a deep inhale feeling his fiery touch against your ice-cold skin.

“I keep my bath water quite scalding, my love. I do not wish to harm your skin.”

Jacaerys looked at you with a smirk. “You know the words of House Targaryen. I am Fire and Blood. Warm water will not harm me.”

Jacaerys was right about one thing. He was Fire and Blood. Everything he did set you ablaze. From the way he spoke to the way he looked at you. Oh, gods, and his touch. It was like his hands were made of molten lava. A beautiful contrast to your frigid skin. His warmness brought a sense of comfort to you.

“How could I forget.”

Jace’s lip twitched into a smile. He loved you with his entire being. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He placed his lips on yours in a sweet soft kiss. “Let me help wash you.” He spoke against your lips

“As you wish, my prince.” You stole another kiss from him. Missing his soft lips.

He pushed your robe off your shoulders and watched it cascade to the floor. You breathe in a sharp inhale as your body gets overtaken by the chill in the air. Your nipples harden and Jace cannot take his eyes off of them, even if he tried.

He offers his hand and you gladly take it. He walked you over to the tub not letting go till you had both of your feet in the water. Jace went to grab the new lavender soap that was imported specifically at your request.

As he walked back towards you, you couldn’t help but notice the tent in his robe. Seeing that made you feel an ache deep inside of you. An emptiness that you need to be filled.

“Just lean back, let me take care of you my sweet.”

Jacaerys wet the bar of soap and lathered it onto his hands. The sweet and calm scent engulfed his sense of smell. He set the soap down and began washing you. He started at your neck and shoulders slowly and firmly massaging the soap into your skin

He did this across the entirety of your body. Jace’s touch brought your body aflame. He was avoiding the parts of you that craved his touch, intensely. You let out a low whine when his hands ran down your side lightly passing over the sides of your breasts. The slightest brush and this man had your body consumed by flames.

You heard a light chuckle from behind you. “Do you find something amusing, Husband?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “Not at all.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, inhaling your lavender-infused skin. He ran his hands back up and cupped your breasts this time, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Jacaerys…”

And his hands went back down this time spreading your legs apart and you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Jacaerys..”

He was dragging his hands close to your heat. It was right there. And just when you thought he was going to help dull this ache, he withdrew his hands, again.

“Jace, please. You know what I crave. Why are you withholding it from me.”

“Because it is fun.”

You could feel his sly smirk against your neck.

“Say please.” He demanded, his hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. He was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything.

“Plea-.”

“In High Valyrian.”

He had been getting you to learn High Valyrian. Something about you knowing his mother tongue made him swell with pride. It made him feel as though it would make your family stronger once you have children.

Also, he found it very very hot.

“Kostilus.”

“Hmm, that’s my girl.” Jacaerys brought one hand to your cheek turning your face to his, to take your lips in a fiery heat.

As soon as his mouth hit yours, your own fell agape. You craned your neck desperately wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Oh, how you both missed this. Feeling so needy for each other. Your tongues lapped at the other. You let out whines and whimpers into his mouth.

His right hand stopped toying with your nipples and slid down to your core. Jace rubbed light circles against your clit, eliciting a moan from deep inside your chest. His hand that was on your cheeky slowly slid down your throat till he wrapped his long fingers around it. This made you break away from the kiss. His amber eyes had such a dark look in them. As if you too lit him aflame.

Feeling him around you like this made you dizzy. Engulfed in his smell. In his heat. The fire in his blood.

When Jace thought you had had enough torture he slid two digits into your entrance, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, Jace.” Your head lulled back onto his shoulder. You kept eye contact with him. Jace felt some precome leak from his throbbing cock as he looked at you like this. Spread out for him. Slowly grinding your hips down on his fingers. He added a bit more pressure around your neck. Watching as your mouth fell open, you tried to get some more air in your lungs. Solely depending on him for your air, for your desires, for everything.

He kept pumping his fingers into you a such a slow murderous pace. You don’t know how he does it but he had you shaking on the verge of your climax in mere minutes. You were squirming, moaning his name and a litany of curses. You pulled your hand out of the bath water and threw it into his curls. A guttural moan left your lips when the pads of his fingers hit that soft spot deep inside of you.

You came around his fingers with a deep mewl gripping and pulling his hair in the process. The act caused him to whine in your ear. It had been too long. He kept pumping his fingers into you bringing you down from your high. He removed his other hand from your neck and was rubbing you anywhere his hand could reach as he whispered in your ear in High Valyrian. Telling you how good you did.

Somehow in your daze, you understood him.“Get in here with me, please. I wish to feel your skin against mine.” You breathed.

Jacaerys is quick to shed his robe. He pushed you forward slightly and climbed in right behind you. He situated you so that he was able to rub his cock threw your folds. Your chest pressed against his back. You sigh at the feeling of his warm body against yours.

You began to rock your hips, feeling his cock rub through your slit with ease. You heard him breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You tried to speak and tell him how desperately you craved for him to be inside of you. But all you could do was babble. The sensation of his tip as it hit your clit over and over again.

“I know, you do not have to say it. Gods, I know.” Jace lifted you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. He swiftly wrapped his left around around you and slowly eased you onto his cock.

You both gasp when he’s fully seated within you. The head of his cock mushed against that spot again. He somehow always knew how to get to it. Jacaerys, with one hand on your ass cheek and his other wrapped around you, slowly lifted you before he slammed you back down on him. A whimper left your lips, your hands flew to the sides of the bath to prepare yourself for his onslaught.

Even when he was going harder or faster he still managed to fuck you with so much love and tenderness.

Jace began slow. Let you get used to him inside of you again. His pace, which quickened by his third deep thrust, had you saying his name in a tantalizing prayer. He kept going constantly hitting your gspot over and over again. The repetition. The mere torture against your most sensitive spot had you reeling.

Water splashing.

You two moaning each other’s names.

And the smell of lavender and sex was all-consuming to the both of you.

You didn’t know what kind of sounds were leaving your mouth nor did you care. Right now all you cared about was that your sweet husband was finally back inside of you. Pleasing you the way you loved. The way he always does.

Your hips bounced with his movements out of pure instinct. “Jacaerys. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for at this point. But he did. He coaxed you into your second climax of the night. This one hit you hard. Drenching him in your release. You could feel yourself pulsating around his cock. Begging him to come inside of you over and over again.

Jace groaned at the sensation of you coming around him. “Oh you’re gonna look so perfect when my seed takes. When you get all plump from having our heir inside of you.” He kept pumping into you. His thrusts now getting erratic.

“Yes, Gods, please.” You said in a satisfied gasp.

Even his seed was hot. As he came inside of you, you felt his searing essence flow into your cunt. You bore yourself down on him. You wanted nothing more than to keep all of him come inside of you. You wanted to give him an heir. You needed it. You needed his seed to take. The thought of you carrying his child mixed with the feeling of his come leaking out of you had you coming again.

“Fuck.” Jacaerys leaned his forehead against your back as he caught his breath. “We should take more baths together.”

You chuckle, “Oh but how will we ever keep clean, my prince.”

[screampied]

“. . do you . . know what happens after death, sweetheart?”

the words that slipped out of nanami’s lips struck you right in the very depths of your heart.

it stung—a sharp prod that made the very crevices of your mouth twitch. his hands, his once warm and loving hands started to grow abnormally cold. frigid to where you even started to adapt to his chilled temperature.

“no why….” you started, feeling your throat tighten. “why are you asking me that, kento?” you sniffle, tightly interlocking your fingers with his.

he stares at you with a warm smile spreading across his lips.

regardless of his current position, peacefully resting his back against the ground—his inevitable fate had finally caught up to him.

nanami’s breathing patterns changed significantly. everything was so loud, all he could make out through his peripherals was splotches of blur and your pretty worried face. “. . because,” he continues, and his speech was so slow. you could tell he was trying to get every word out, every syllable, every vowel. just for you and only you. “i’m about to find out, my love . .”

your irises focused on him. nothing else, no one else—just him.

you’ve never seen him like this. so pale, so weak, so . . . scared.

his pure emotion, it showed in his eyes. his perfect brown eyes that you never failed to get lost in. for the first time in what was probably forever, nanami felt…scared. he tried his best to conceal it in front of you though. but even his best wasn’t enough, because you probably knew him better than you knew yourself.

“don’t say things like that, kento,” you mutter, already feeling that annoying plump knot rise up in your throat. your breath was shaky, tremble after tremble. “you’re fine. you can get up. we can get up.”

he knew when you said we, you implied that you’d both be walking away together — hand in hand, like in those stupid cheesy movies you’d watch with him every sunday after he gets off work. but alas, reality was quite harsh to face. an even more incredible tough pill to swallow. nanami knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

it was irksome, you had to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent a single tear to roll down your cheek.

nanami’s eyelids were hanging on by a thread, just barely open. he was trying—trying so hard to hang on, a small pout curls against his lips before he huffs out a single breath.

“ah . . forgive me, you’re right,” he says, his thumb swiftly stroking the front of your hand. a single tear escapes past your lower damp eyelid. even his voice sounded different. a voice you grew to love, so sweet and protective. it now sounded incredibly tired. you could hear a slight wheeze between breaths of his. “hey, don’t cry. don’t do that, look at me.”

his voice was so soft, you sniffled—despising the irritating tears that started to run down both sides of your temples. if it was anything nanami couldn’t stand, it was that he couldn’t stand to see the love of his life shed such sweet pitiful tears for him.

you looked at him, watching his eyelids struggle to stay open for you. everything ached, his body didn’t even feel like his own anymore. it was an indescribable feeling from when he got struck, laying against the slick cold floor of the shibuya train station.

“. . d-don’t leave me,” was all you managed to say, your lips was trembling, your heart pounded and you didn’t wanna say goodbye just yet. “kento, i need you.”

“hm? what are you mumblin’ about, sweetheart? ‘m right here.” his voice, it sounded happier.

you furrowed your eyebrows, now finding yourself buried into nanami’s bare chest, damp chin pressing against his pecs and all.

you were here safe and sound, snuggled up all against him, as you should be. it took you a long while to calm down, he’s staring at you with a soft loving gaze—a brief look of concern before you mumble out a, “..kento? are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be, baby?” nanami hums, a soft thumb stroking your back. with a relaxed breath, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss near the very tip of your forehead. his touch was forevermore soothing, a touch you never wanted to forget.

you let off a jittery sigh of relief, finally coming to the conclusion that it was another one of your horrid nightmares. you had nothing to worry about.

he was fine.

you were fine,

everything was fine.

. . is what you kept telling yourself.

nanami never told you those words, he didn’t kiss the tip of your forehead or stroke your back lovingly whilst staring into your eyes. the only true unbearable truth was that nanami was gone.

he was gone, and his last words weren’t even “i love you,” or “i’m sorry.” on his fatal dying breaths, nanami’s last words to you while squeezing your hand, sliding a ring into your palm, he rasps out a breathy, “will . . you marry me?”

but before you could tell him yes, he was already gone.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Flourish

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond had not been joking when he said they would work on another child after their first was born. Aemond never joked. [ part ii of this work ]

tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), fingering, breeding kink, mentions of past pregnancy, use of High Valyrian, Aemond so in love with his wife that he might fall over.

words: 2K Ao3

-------------------------------⚔️-------------------------------

The fire was warm as it crackled in the hearth. Staying off the coming chill of the cooler months settling in upon them.

Aemond stared into the hypnotic flames. His wine from dinner at his left while his wife sat in her twin seat at his right, wrestling with the babe in her arms. “Stop fighting little one.” She whispered under her breath at their child. To which Aemond had to scoff quietly as his cheeks raised in a smirk. You might as well tell a bird not to fly, if it was one of his children.

His beloved wife had given him the child he had asked for. A beautiful, strong, silver-haired paragon. With her mother’s eyes instead of his own, but no less the perfect Targaryen jewel. They named her Amena, after much debate of naming her Alyssa or Alysanne after his grandmothers. Truly they had considered it but, in the end, Aemond wanted his children to be their own person for as much as they could. So much of their lives would not be their own; their duties, their battles, their matches. Let them at least have their names.

The princess eventually settled and suckled at her mother’s breast for a time before a nurse came in to take her to the nursery. Though the Keep kept some of the finest wet nurses in all Seven Kingdoms, his wife insisted on giving their child her first & last feedings every day. No exceptions. He knew she would make an excellent mother, even before their child had been born.

The nurse gathered the babe from his wife’s arms, kneeling down to let her kiss Amena’s soft crown, before she came over to Aemond and did the same. “Sleep well, riñītsos.” He whispered to her, before she was carried away and the two of them were left alone.

His wife sighed heavily once the door closed. Slouching and sliding down into her chair in a very relaxed, but undignified, manner. “So, what shall we do for the rest of our night husband?”

“I want another child.”

Understandably, his wife was surprised. It was not the response one would often expect to hear when asking how they should spend the evening before bed. Cards. Reading. Surely not perpetuating a dynasty. “Did I not just give you that one?”

Aemond chuckled as she pointed towards the door where the nurse had disappeared through. “Yes. You did. But I would like us to have another.”

“Really? And what brought on this sudden change in perspective?”

He doesn’t know if he should tell her that it was not a ‘sudden’ change in perspective. Since that night they conceived Amena, Aemond’s goal had been to fill his wife and their wing of the castle with children. He just didn’t realize how persistent the urge would be once they had one.

“I thought you wanted Amena to have siblings.”

“I do,” she agreed, which was a good start, “but I did not think you meant now. Perhaps when they are older. I just got my body back.”

His eye roamed over his wife’s figure. Back nearly to where it had been before and still beautiful, but he would be lying if he said he had not been thoroughly attracted to her those nine months she had been pregnant. Seeing her swell heavy with his child. Watching her body change. Her breasts grow heavy. It almost set Aemond to drool.

“I thought you said you liked being pregnant.” He reminded her, as he stood up and knelt in front of her chair. The heat from the fire on his back almost as hot as his gaze fixed on her.

He knew that pregnancy wasn’t easy. Seeing his mother, his sister, and now his own wife go through it, he was aware it was not the tranquil beauty & reverence people made it out to be. But he did not think his wife despised it. She commented often on how she loved carrying their child, even amidst the complaints.

“Well, it…was an experience…I did not hate it.” He could see her waver as he took her hand in his. Good. Aemond did not think of himself as the clever charmer, full of charisma, like his brother was, but he was not without his own Targaryen silver tongue.

“Do you not want to give Amena a brother?”

“Is that what this is about?” Aemond stopped kissing her fingers at the sharp shift in her tone and looked up at her. “You don’t want another child. You want a son?” His silver tongue might not be as polished as he thought.

When she had been pregnant, she had asked him what he was hoping for and Aemond said he did not care. Which had been true. Sons carry a man’s name, but when you have the name ‘Targaryen’ the point was moot. And, as an avid learner of history, he knew that there were some Targaryen women that carried the name higher & finer than some of the men. If Amena had been male, he would have rejoiced all the same. But clearly now his wife was thinking that maybe he had hoped for a son and been disappointed. That they could try again and ‘get it right’. That was not what he meant.

“No. I have no more of a wish for a son than daughter. We could have 15 princesses, it would not bother me.”

“15??” His wife repeated with a laugh. Her concern and ire waning quickly. “I am not giving you 15 children, of any variety.”

“But you’ll give me another one, eh?”

Aemond lifted up on his knees. Back to seducing his wife as he leaned in close to her. His lips brushed against hers softly, before they traveled down her jaw to her neck. His wife sighed in his ear. Sinking further into her chair as she tilted her head back. Relaxed and pliable under his touch.

He continued to kiss her while his hands moved to undo the lacings in the front of her evening gown. A sharp gasp came to his ear, followed by a moan, as his cool hands slithered in to touch her breast. They were sensitive and tender. She had told him as much. The newfound weight of them in his hands from what they had been before made him moan as well and a shiver raced down her spine when he pulled the gown down to expose them fully.

“Aemond….” She sighed out as he kissed along the edge of her breast. Imagining another babe of silver at her left since Amena seemed to favor her right.

“Let us to bed, issa jorrāelagon.”

His wife nodded eagerly and Aemond rolled up to his feet with all the grace his training allowed him, before he offered her his hand. She of course took it, and he pulled her to her feet and against him. Holding her there for a moment to look down at her before he gave her another kiss on the lips and led them to bed.

As they were already in their evening clothes, the matter of getting undressed was easy. Aemond laid his wife on the bed and was quick to catch her arm before it moved to cover herself. She had become shy about her body and being naked in front of him since giving birth. A trend he hoped would pass. He certainly had not given her any indication that he did not still find her desirable. His hard cock stroked against the interior of her thigh, just in case she needed further encouragement.

She moaned quietly as his member brushed against her soft skin, then leaned up to kiss him. Aemond is happy to meet her. Her lips are soft as well. He always thought that. Everything about her was soft in comparison to his hard lines and, well, everything. It was why they were perfect together. Why the world needed more of their two halves in one whole, to make it better & perfect as well.

“Open for me.” He told his wife as his fingers brushed against her thigh as well to spread them that little bit further to give him entry.

She does, and his fingers slid in to toy with her already damp sex. “See. You may lie, issa jorrāelagon, but this part of you cannot. You want me to put another babe in you, don’t you?”

“Aemond…” Her voice sighed out his name as her head tipped back whilst his fingers pressed in.

“You want another Targaryen fire in your belly, yes?”

“I just want you inside me, Aemond.” She insisted and he smirked.

“I will be. And I will be every night until we make a new scion, if you’ll have me.” His thumb brushed over her clit. Swollen and beaded out as his fingers continue to thrust inside her. His pretty wife bowed her back. Called his name and begged him to enter her. “Tell me true, wife.” He whispered in her ear as she was nearly close to crying with want. “Do you want me to fill you up with my seed and plant a new babe in your womb?”

“Yes!” She finally admitted. “Yes Aemond, I do! I want another babe. To give that to you. I want you to fuck another child into me like you did before! Please, please, give it to me Aemond!”

The prince gripped his wife’s hair and pulled her in for a hard kiss. A reward for her honesty. As he was doing that, he pulled his fingers from her cunt and lined his cock up to refill it. Sheathing all of him in her warmth in just a single thrust. “Hells Aemond!”

He gave her but a moment to adjust before he started thrusting into her. Those beautiful, full breasts of hers bouncing obscenely in front of him. His eye roaming down to her again flat stomach and imagining it full again, before traveling lower to where there sexes meet and watched his cock thrust hard to put a child into her.

“A-A-Aemond!” His wife cried out. Voice stammered by his thrusts. Hands clinging to the bedding as her legs wrapped around him.

“Not going to let me go, are you issa jorrāelagon.”

“Never.” She told him. With this look in her eyes that shot Aemond right to his soul.

He grabbed hold of her arm and flipped them up while they kissed. Her legs still wrapped around him as she was now seated neatly in his lap as he thrust up. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The sweet words somehow tainted a little with all the wanton, animal panting between them, but no less meaningful. “Now give me our son.”

Aemond groaned. His back teeth grinding while his wife’s hips were grinding into his lap. He held her still and flush against him as his cock burst forth deep inside. She moaned sweetly against his ear as he filled her. Not letting go until he was sure every drop was inside his wife, then laid her down on the mattress. “Just the once, husband?”

“Do not tempt me, wife.” Aemond warned her. Both remembering the mad frenzy that had been their first bout to conceive. “Did you really mean it?” He asked when they were settled in bed for just sleep now. “Would you really want a son?”

The conversation earlier had led him to believe that she was not interested in one, but then her remark a moment ago made him question. Although Aemond was not fool enough to believe what a person said in the throws of passion anymore than what a person said when they had imbibed.

“Hmm…I have no opinion really.” She confessed. Settling into her spot on the bed between her pillow and his chest. “I know that is what everyone hopes for us. More Targaryen sons.” Aemond hummed once. He wouldn’t patronize his wife by telling her that that wasn’t true. “But, having one of each wouldn’t be so bad.” Aemond looked down at his wife just as she looked up at him. A shared moment between them. “I am not giving you 15 children though.”

Aemond smirked at her quip. “We shall see, now won’t we.”

*****

riñītsos: little one, little child

issa jorrāelagon: my love

Amena (origin, Arabic): meaning trustworthy, loyal, protected. [Not a Targaryen name but sounded pretty close, in my opinion]

[k-hotchoisan]

hiiiii <333 I have lovedddd lovvvveeeddd alll of your works I actually spent my day reading each and everyone of them I love it so muchhh!! 😭❤️

I have a request teehee, could you write one where Sannie is like a professor in your college and there’s little teasing here and there and where he ends up having her alas!! DOM - SAN ‼️💋

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

Genres/Warnings: smut, dom professor Choi San, pwp, face fucking, unprotected sex, oral (m receive) ,mutual pining, age gap, size kink, cream pies, mild jealousy plot, sir kink, light bondage (just tying up reader) teasing, sexual tension, teaching assistantxteacher obv forbidden but we still eat it up anyway!

Word count: 12.3K

a/n: happy birthday to the man of my dreams </3 enjoy this little choi san birthday treat. i put my love into this so please love this as much as i did! and thank you @bro-atz for the tidbits of help as always 🩷

apply for taglist here!

You stare at the laptop screen, scanning through your details on the application form, double, and triple checking that everything was filled in correctly. 

“Which professors are you trying as a teaching assistant for?” Your roommate asks, her neck craning over to see you attaching the file to six different emails, to six different professors within the department, pretty much answering her question the moment she reads off each professor’s email. 

“Why not try for the department chair?”

You scrunch your eyebrows as if it’s the first time you’re hearing that. 

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

Your eyes widen, your neck almost getting whiplash from how fast you turned to your roommate at the sound of his name. 

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

Your roommate shrugs in an attempt to hide her amused reaction from your reaction at his name. 

“Who knows? I’m confident he remembers you even though you spent only one semester with him”, she hums turning away to pour herself another ice drink from the pitcher. “On a serious note, you may as well just get all the help you can get. Besides, what are the chances that Prof Choi sees your email? He’s the department chair. I’m sure his mailbox is just flooded anyway.” 

True, you think to yourself, turning your head back to your laptop, and adding the professor’s email address in. But you still hesitate, staring at the application form, your cursor hovering over the send button. Your roommate looks over at you, and she decides that your wishy-washy behaviour is just being the biggest nuisance on earth, so her hand flies over yours and helps you to press send, and she watches you freak out at her while she giggles and escapes after committing her crime, chasing your roommate around the kitchen island for a good seven minutes.

Settling back down in defeat, you sigh in your hands, giving yourself pep talks. 

Right. 

The chances are close to zero that Prof Choi will see my application anyway. 

The chances of him remembering me are close to zero anyway. 

You shut your laptop, and the applications are completely erased from your mind. 

“Yo, check your emails, babe. The application results are out for me”, your roommate says, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. 

You settle yourself down across her, a chilled drink in your hand, pulling up your email inbox. As you expected, you see the subject headline ‘Teaching Assistant Application Results’, and you expand the email.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you mutter, loud enough for your roommate to hear. Her head pops out from behind her screen. 

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

Professor Choi San. His classes weren’t the bane of your existence—but he, himself was. 

And the fact that it only took one semester to solidify that claim. Almost everyone wanted to get into his class, so fucking many of them just squealing over how he looked almost god-like. You wonder how much of a swoon he would be, how much of the rumours that travelled down the stream were factual, though with thousands of students constantly fighting for a spot in his class, you sure were coloured surprised when you landed a spot in Professor Choi’s class. 

The moment he walked in, the whispers within the confines of the lecture hall erupted into gasps and squeals. Unfortunately, the rumours were right—the moment ProfessorChoi walked in, it was as if your eyes naturally followed his movement—confident strides in his steps dictated by his outfit—a simple dress shirt under a dark gray vest that accentuated his wide shoulders and skinny waist.  

He was so fucking handsome—his hair neatly slicked back, frameless glasses sat on his nose bridge, his sharp and small eyes hiding behind the lens. Undoubtedly, seeds of infatuation began lodging themselves in you. Well, it’s not like you had a chance with him anyway, especially when the gold band reflected from his ring finger being a huge indicator. Maybe keeping him as an eye candy would work out just fine. 

Prof Choi’s classes were interesting, and he as a professor, other than being a distraction during the majority of his classes, held his credentials. However, at times, some sarcastic comments would bubble to the surface, and even though he did tend to commend top-scoring students for tests, he still maintained professionalism for the most part—the content taught wasn’t rocket science anyway. You saw yourself being able to breeze through the syllabus for the most part until you received your grade for one of your essays. You stared at his comments, marked in red lines, circles, and words—tone cold and direct—not that you weren’t used to it, but this time? You felt his comments alongside him marking you down were completely unjustified. 

It was then that you pushed past the group of girls who would stay back after class to shamelessly flirt with him, under the guise of wanting to discuss more about the content taught that day, and you stood before the group, asking to speak to Prof Choi personally. Prof Choi did have people staying back after class to consult with him about grades, although they would stay shortly with him staying stern to his marking rubrics, but when he realised you weren’t backing down on top of the way you approached him so directly, it intrigued him.

His office was spacious, considering that he was the department chair—and without introductions, he had you dive in immediately in consultation. 

You wasted no time, flipping through the spent pages of your essay, pointing out areas where you felt his comments were unjustified. Prof Choi listened, and he refuted your points, some of which you decided to accept but not for one particular part;

“This part had no proper scientific support of your argument for this point-“

“Bullshit”, you cut him off. Prof Choi blinked, shocked at the blunt cut from you. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion next, wondering if he heard right that a student not only just cut him off, but cussed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s here. A small significance value is still something isn’t it?” You replied, pointing at the paragraph after. He glanced at the paper once more, forcing himself to focus while you fought back that your argument was supported. 

So you made Prof Choi sit before you and listen to your elaborations, and needless to say, he was rather impressed, although he had to hold his expression neutral. 

You came out of the consultation victorious—the day Prof Choi called you over after his class again, handing you your script, and you saw your total marks shooting up to a gorgeous score. Your head was so into the clouds that you returned a smirk along with a shrug—showing off your victory and satisfaction as your thanks—an I told you so, leaving the professor to stare after you in awe while you practically skipped to your seat. 

That sealed your fate. 

From then on, Prof Choi would have his attention on you—recognising which seat you picked to sit in in class, wondering why you hadn’t dared sit nearer. And when it came to picking people to answer questions, his gaze would fly to you immediately—either waiting to call you out once you raised your hand or simply calling you when he felt like it. For some sick reason, he finds the way your face scrunches up in stress when he calls your name in his honey-soaked voice amusing, and even adorable at times, though he would never admit it. But oh, did he love the comments and answers you would give him. 

Despite that assignment being the only one where you decided to consult Prof Choi, following every grade release of an assignment, he would single you out, especially after class, to fucking ask if you had questions regarding said assignment, which honestly started to freak you out—mostly because he never gave you the attention before, and you weren’t used to it. The whispering gossip in the class about you being the teacher’s pet slowly reached your ears too, and even Prof Choi heard it—and he only exacerbated that rumours by constantly giving you his attention. 

Every time you reached your dorm, the words that left your mouth which your roommate could recite verbatim, “I swear to god, Prof Choi has it out for me!”

Not to mention you were fucking relieved when the last day of his class rolled around, but unfortunately, his parting words to you were, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, y/n”. You did everything in your power to avoid getting into his class and even bumping into him, which seemed to work swell. 

Until now that is. 

Now here you are again, standing before the familiar heavy wooden door, staring up at the wooden plate, embossed with gold lettering “Department Chair Choi San” staring right at you. You had to physically drag yourself off your bed to prepare for the first day partnered with Prof Choi. And when your roommate’s words of “oh come on, he can’t be that bad. He’s hot!”, echoed through your ears, it all the more made you want to just ditch your first day by clawing your eyeballs out. 

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

With a raised knuckle, you rap against the door, taking deep inhales in the process. His voice, which sounded deceivingly like honey, remained the same as you remembered. 

“Come in.”

You pause for a moment, embracing yourself before holding onto to doorknob and pushing his door open. 

There he was, Professor Choi, his eyes focused on the scripts on his desk, which had piled up. His space remained the same as you remembered, for the most part—shelves littered with awards and files, the same desktop taking up one-quarter of his huge ass desk, and the couch with the coffee table left to the side of the room. Prof Choi wore a stern look of concentration on his face, still preoccupied with finishing up marking his scripts. 

When his pen pauses and his gaze shifts towards the door, a small smile spreads across his face. He lifts his head and drops his pen, interlocking his fingers on his desk with growing amusement when his eyes meet yours. 

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

“Professor Choi”, you greet, holding your expression neutral as you bow, forcing yourself not to fidget with your tote bag. 

“Y/n!” Prof Choi greets almost too enthusiastically. “I would assume you would be more than delighted when I picked you to be my teaching assistant.”

“Honoured, almost”, you reply. It’s taking all of your energy not to break his gaze. He’s staring at you with unreadable eyes, and you’re wondering if the fluttering in your chest is from the anxiety or the way Prof Choi is staring at you.

Prof Choi laughs, and it tickles your ears a little too good. 

“Sit. We have a lot to go through today”, he gestures to the seat before him, and you take it.

He switches on his monitor to his course syllabus and turns the monitor slightly towards you. 

“Oh, before we begin, it’s a pleasure meeting you again, y/n.”

Oh boy, was being Prof Choi’s teaching assistant a fucking handful. You knew it was gonna be rough, but to be assisting Professor Choi San? He was on another level—his schedule would be filled to the brim with meetings with the faculty on top of conducting classes weekly. You struggled in your first month, learning the ropes, especially from a busy and challenging professor like him. He wasn’t mean or cold at all, on the contrary, more direct and meticulous. Well, he had to be, considering his position. Nonetheless, it felt like he was always too busy to attend to your questions sometimes, and that would leave you to your own devices. 

You stand in the aisle, looking down at the assortment of foods lined up in the chiller. Has Prof eaten yet? Does he even eat? What does he even eat? By instinct, you pull out your phone and open his chat. 

[you]: Hi Prof. Have you eaten? I’m at the convenience store near the campus. I could grab something quick for you. 

A couple of minutes go by, but your phone doesn’t receive a ping, and you had to reach the office soon. So you pick up another tuna rice ball for the professor alongside yours before making a beeline for the cashier. 

Prof Choi hears the knock on his door and as usual, he utters his usual “come in”. His gaze lands on you, and he glances at the clock. 

“You’re on time today”, he points out. 

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. “I’m always on time, Professor.”

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

“Right, because I got you this”, you reply, rustling through the plastic bag in your hands, fishing out the rice ball.

He looks up at you, confusion hinted in his expression. He doesn’t take the food yet. 

“What’s this?” 

“Tuna rice ball. Surely only having coffee in the morning is not filling your stomach.” 

You put the food in front of him. “Besides, I messaged you but you didn’t reply. So I just chose something safe. Unless you’re telling me you’re allergic to tuna or something.”

Prof Choi blinks. His hands reach out to take the snack from the desk, unwrapping the plastic packaging as he watches you leave his office to grab a mug of coffee. He glances over at his phone, and sure enough, your name is there with your message.

Since then, his reply would pop up in mere minutes whenever you asked him if he wanted anything to eat. 

Of course, the more you spent time with him, the more you grew comfortable, and all the thoughts you ever stressed about slowly faded off. Prof Choi grew more relaxed around you, internally grateful that you’re able to tank a significant fraction of his workload for him. Undoubtedly, you also come to realise that Prof Choi is human after all—he obviously would make mistakes, even as someone of his caliber, and deep inside, you found it rather cute, well, until you had to stop yourself from developing deranged thoughts. 

Not to mention, another problem seemed to pop up—his flirty banter. He likely picked up that it made you flustered sometimes, and since then, he wouldn’t let it go, relishing at the way pink creeps up your cheeks when he would say something that wasn’t like his ‘professor-self’, and at worst, feeding into your crooked thoughts. 

You stare at him as he types away, particularly, the metal band around his ring finger. You wonder who was the lucky lady who had the chance to be with him. You blink. 

What the hell were you thinking?

“It’s rude to stare, you know”, Prof Choi’s voice snapping you out of your daydreams. 

“I’m just wondering about your ring, that’s all”, you reply, forcing your attention back to your half-marked assignments.

“I’m not actually married”, he suddenly confesses, and for some reason, it makes your heart beat slightly faster. 

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

Prof Choi chuckles. He pauses his work on the desktop, turning his attention to you. Even though you have worked so closely with him for a while already, you can never seem to find your composure around him. 

Even though you see his face every week, you can’t seem to wrap your head around how insanely good-looking he is, how sometimes you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, because it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself slowly flushing. 

“I wear it on my ring finger so the students stop asking about my marital status”, Prof Choi clarifies. You watch him pull the ring from his ring finger and fit it over his index. 

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. You’re not looking directly at him, and you don’t realise the way he’s looking at you attentively. And if you do, you just might combust.

“I’m…single too”, you answer, trying to meet his gaze, fidgeting with the red pen in between your fingers. 

“And why’s that? Too busy fighting with your professors for grades?”

You glare at him. 

“I think it was my professor picking fights with me”, you reply quickly, jabbing right back at him. 

You watch Prof Choi lower his gaze, a smile spreading across his cheeks—an actual smile—his dimples showing up. Oh fuck. Just when you thought you could depend on your ribcage to contain your heart properly, you found out Prof Choi could actually smile. 

When he looks up at you again, you break the eye contact, your gaze flying back to the papers before you. 

“You know, I’ve met many students, but you were the first to cuss out at me.”

You did? “I did?”

Your professor nods, cocking his eyebrow at the way you had seemed to have simply forgotten something as eventful as that. 

This time, Professor Choi bursts into a chuckle, completely amused by your reaction. 

“Is that why you kept-“

“Giving you chances to answer in class for credit? You should really thank me for that. Your grade for my class was one of the highest you know.”

You feel your cheeks flush. But before you can retaliate, Prof Choi cuts you off.

“Jokes aside, no. I think the discussion we had that afternoon had an impression on me. The cherry on top was you cussing at me. I liked that. Refreshing and endearing”, Prof Choi continues, his attention seeping back to the pile of scripts before him. 

“I think this side of Professor is pretty refreshing and endearing too”, you let it slip.

His pen pauses in mid-air. You don’t catch his gaze completely softening on you. 

As the semester continues on, you began easing into the class schedules. You watch prof get swarmed by a group of students, a usual ritual that happens right when the class ends. At this point, you had grown used to it. Sometimes the students would come and approach you instead, which honestly surprised you, but your heart would feel warm, knowing that these students trusted you.

It was then you became acquainted with another teaching assistant under Prof Choi, who joined shortly after you did—Choi Jongho. Initially, he came off as a rather shy individual, but the both of you warmed up quickly with each other, sharing the workload and bonding over gossip with each other. Gosh, was he fucking amazing with gossip, especially when it came to Professor Choi. Soon enough, the both of you were texting almost on a regular basis, the conversations weighing more towards academic topics sprinkled with a little gossip. 

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

“Yeah”, you reply, bunching the papers in your hands. “I’ve got some things to discuss with him about.” Partially true. 

For some reason, even though your professor has been completely swamped with papers to grade and meetings to attend, you would always find him loitering around your desk from time to time. He seems to especially enjoy doing that when you’re around. 

“You’ve been spending an awfully lot amount of time with him”, Prof Choi points out, looking over your shoulder as he watches you scribble on another student’s paper. 

“Yeah, we get along well actually. Isn’t that a good thing, Prof? Both your teaching assistants are besties.”

For some reason, that makes Prof Choi frown, but you’re too absorbed in your work to notice it.

A couple of minutes go by, and you still feel his presence, not that you mind, but you’re starting to find it peculiar that he’s been hanging around your desk a lot recently.

“Do you have something to discuss with me, prof?” You ask, eyes still glued to the paper.

“Yes”, he replies, taking another sip from his mug. “What do you think of Choi Jongho?”

Such a random question to ask, you think. Maybe he’s just making sure you and Jongho get along well?

You pause, giving yourself to think, tapping the back of the red pen against your bottom lip, taken aback by Prof Choi’s sudden question, but the conversations you and Jongho had resurfacing into your brain, and a giggle escapes you, which makes Professor Choi subconsciously narrow his eyes and furrow his brows. 

“He’s fun to be around, and despite how he looks, he’s actually got a wicked sense of humor. Oh god, wait. Let me tell you what you he did that day while we were having lunch together-“

You turn your head to continue to run your mouth, only to slowly trail off when realise his face is just inches from yours, and you swear your heart is on a treadmill from the lack of distance between you and Prof Choi. It’s as if time paused, the both of you sinking right into each other’s gazes. You can’t help but notice how intense his gaze is, and you can’t seem to decipher his thoughts, but from the way this situation played out, you swore he’d just lean in and kiss you. 

Your heartbeat accelerates at the thought—why would he do that?

And when his fingers are on your chin, your rational thoughts are getting flushed out. 

“That’s an awful lot of cute things about Choi Jongho. I’ve never heard you talk about another Choi like that.”

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

Oh god. You could only stare back at him. Prof Choi tilts his head, his eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer. His cologne floats and almost shuts down your senses—has he always smelled this good? 

The corner of his lips curl slightly at the way you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

Another hard swallow the more you try to focus your gaze on him. 

“I think Choi San’s a great professor. He’s really competent, a lot softer than he presents himself as-“

Fuck you can’t think. Not when he’s staring down your eyes to your lips like that. 

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

Then a loud knock echoes across the room, breaking the tension. Prof Choi’s body doesn’t shift, but he looks up at the door, shouting “door’s unlocked”, before he stands back upright, adjusting his glasses and walking back to his desk. 

Jongho’s head peeks in, then he bows at Prof Choi before he walks to your desk. You stare up at him with a forced smile. 

“Ready to go? I was waiting for your message”, Jongho says, his eyes glancing over the professor, then you, a strange feeling that he probably interrupted something. 

You nod, while shoving your belongings into your bag, then slinging it on your shoulder. 

Barely being able to look at Professor Choi, you still force yourself to, bowing goodbye to him. 

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

He looks up from his desk, right into your eyes. 

“See you too, y/n.” 

You can’t help but wonder how far things would have gone if Jongho didn’t knock the door.

Jongho isn’t an idiot. Initially, he assumes that you and the professor were on much friendlier terms considering that you came in before he did. Granted, the workload he would give the both of you was the same, he would take the initiative to have lunch with the both of you both individually and together whenever he had pockets of free time, but what roused his awareness was the lingering glances Professor Choi would cast at you from time to time, the way he seemed to relish the reactions you would give him whenever he teased you. 

He notices the way your ears would grow red even when you roll your eyes at the professor and jab him with another playful snarky remark. 

Though he wonders how dangerous things could get, Jongho thinks this could get interesting. 

The semester continues smoothly, the only change being that Jongho being absent from the office more often due to his other commitment to soccer. You remember him telling you he had quite a big match coming up, the sparkle in his eyes bright and twinkling whenever he talks about said sport. 

If he wasn’t in classes, he’d be off for training, hopping into the office from time to time to pass Professor Choi marked scripts and reports. Prof Choi pretty much didn’t mind—he stated as long as Jongho did his job, he could be free to do what he wanted outside of being a teaching assistant.

Needless to say, the office was mostly Prof Choi and you, now even more time spent with him with Jongho mostly being absent. By then, the both of you had grown so accustomed to being in each other’s presence that banters amongst each other became the norm—the both of you competing with each other with unserious remarks, laced with almost flirtatiousness, just to see who would back down first. 

Then came the proximity—since Prof Choi would wander over your desk as if he had all the free time in the world, he would somehow strike up another conversation with you, leaning over to hear you better, his arm bumping into yours to look over at the papers you were grading to check if you were doing them correctly. But what he absolutely adores the most is when you’d roll over to his desk to pester him with your questions—sometimes even testing him on his own content. 

He likes the way he gets to be closer to you. He likes the way your shoulders touch his when you lean in to push the paper towards him so he can see the script better. 

He likes the way you would finally look up and meet his eyes when you’re done formulating your question, waiting to hear his opinion.

Today is no different—Professor Choi being so used to the notion that he would only be seeing you in the office, the corner of his lips pull upwards at the thought of the types of banter you would have with him, the kinds of shenanigans you would bring into the office.

He hears your knock at the time you would always arrive, watching the way the door opens, and your head popping from the door, as you greet, “Hi Prof!” 

“Good morning, y/n”, he would greet back, sipping on his morning coffee. 

You walk over to his desk, dropping his tuna rice ball. “Here you go. Enjoy your breakfast, Prof!”

“You can stop calling me Prof”, Prof Choi suddenly says, twirling the pen in his hand. For a second, you wonder what triggered the sudden change. You’ve been calling him Prof since day one, pretty much used to it already, the only time you didn’t was when he—never mind. The thought of it is making your face flush again. 

“Is there something else you want me to call you?” You ask, trying to calm your heartbeat down when that memory suddenly resurfaces. 

“You can call me San. I’m fine with that. I know you’re still my teaching assistant but we’ve been working closely. I think it’s fine to drop the Prof honorific.”

You try out. 

“Sure thing San”, you reply. “Though it’s gonna take a while for me to get used to this.”

“If you’re able to cuss in front of me, calling me by my name should be the least of your worries, y/n”, San teases.

You raise your hand, feigning a stance ready to smack him before you lower your arm, listening to the way San laughs before rolling your eyes and sinking into your desk. 

The day marches on as normal—attending a class or two with Jongho before he’s whisked away to his soccer practice, leaving just the two of you for the rest of the day. 

San is leaning at your desk again, looking at you typing out your report. He squints slightly before he leans down to your shoulder, his finger pointed at one of the paragraphs, asking you about the content. You answer him, and when you turn your head once you’re done, you find yourself looking at San’s side profile mere inches away—his sun-kissed skin, his pretty lashes, his thick, well-trimmed eyebrows, and the way his lips protrude out a little—he always looked like he’s pouting in the most adorable way. 

That’s when you realise a problem seemed to be bubbling up to the surface, try as you might to ignore it, repress it—that you’re falling for your professor. Fast. 

You snap back to reality, finally aware of how loud your heart is beating against your rib cage, and your hand flies up in instinct as a divider between you and San. San blinks at the sudden movement, confused. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He’s not moving. 

“I think I’ve got something on my face.”

San cocks an eyebrow. “You do? Let me check-“ 

His palm covers yours, bringing it down to the table, and you’re kicking yourself for sprouting such a self-sabotaging lie.

Why? Because now San has his hand on yours on top of his face in full view of yours, his eyes meeting yours before his gaze flutters around your face, checking for whatever hell you said was on your face. 

His gaze meets yours and for a split second, something else glints in his eyes. 

The door swings open, and San straightens himself up, slightly irritated at the interruption, leaving you to spin your chair away from San, your hands cupping your cheeks, the heat warming you up against the cold air conditioner. The heat from his hand on yours lingers for a little longer. 

Jongho walks in, his duffel slinging on his shoulder with his shoe bag clipped. 

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

“Hey jjongie. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on your colleague instead. 

“Supposedly, yeah, but there was a sudden downpour midway so training got cancelled. Might as well get some work done here”, he shrugs, dropping his bag onto the floor. 

San is wrapping his head around the fact that you and Jongho seem to have pet names for each other. 

“Didn’t miss me too much right?” Jongho teases. “‘Cause I did!”

“That’s a first coming from you jjongie”, you reply, surprising a smile. 

“Of course! It’s been a while, how could I not? We should go eat dinner together sometime.”

San only stares on in silence, pretending to sink back into his grading.

Jongho walks over to your desk, taking his turn to look at your report. San watches the way Jongho’s arm is comfortable over your seat, as he asks you about your report, talking to you as if San wasn’t just behind you seconds before. 

The fact you’re entertaining him—hitting his arm playfully and laughing at his remarks—all the more rouses some kind of irritation in San. It’s like a boiling pot. 

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Jongho leans in to whisper something into your ear although it’s bugging him so fucking much. For once, he wishes Jongho’s training didn’t cancel. 

“Oh right before I forget”, Jongho mutters, rushing back to his desk, digging through his bag. He walks back over with a paper in hand and places it before you. You glance down and your face brightens up—it’s a ticket to his game. 

“For real?” You exclaim, your eyes bright, taking the ticket in your hands. “I’ll definitely make time for you.”

“I’ll score goals for you, kay?” Jongho teases, his eyes glancing at San, who is progressively looking more irritated. 

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

“San? Since when were you on first name basis with him?” Jongho wonders aloud, the suspicion only brewing even more. 

“Jongho, don’t you have reports to hand in?” San asks curtly. 

You feel like you are caught in between crossfire for some reason. 

Jongho smiles, then has your head under his arm, which elicits another irritated reaction from your professor. 

You have never had Jongho done this before. In fact, you recall him offhandedly mentioning that he’s never a physical touch person, and that anything with physical touch makes him shudder. 

“Relax, Prof. You’d rather your subordinates get along than not right?”

Just when San is about to reply, Jongho suddenly exclaims. 

“AH, coach is calling me back to the field. Prof, I’ll send you the report by tomorrow okay? See you guys!”, Jongho hums as he runs back to his desktop to turn it off. 

“Has he always been like that?” San wonders aloud, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I guess. It’s actually what makes him cute.”

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

“Is he not? Doesn’t he remind you of a bear? Big and cuddly.”

San clears his throat, and you watch him walk over to your desk, his hand resting on the tabletop. He leans in. 

“So… you find it cute when he gives you pet names?”

“Well, I mean-“

“You find it cute when he plays with your hair?” San curls your locks around his fingers. 

You can’t seem to get words to leave your throat. 

“You find it cute when he has his hands all over you like that?” He’s leaning in even closer this time, arms trapping you at either side.

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

Your mind is in a whirlwind at the way he’s towering over you, his scent the only thing filling your olfactory senses, the way he’s staring right into you, gaze sharp as a blade. 

“You find it cute when his touches run up your body like this?” His fingers are trailing up your arms, every touch he burns into your skin, and when his thumb pauses at your chin, you realise you’re royally fucked.

Once more, his face is mere inches away from yours. You wonder if you’ll be teased like two previous times before. 

“Of course you don’t. You’d rather I do that to you, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes downcast, staring at your lips like it’s his reward to claim. 

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

His kisses are so greedy—his lips prying yours open, and you feel yourself completely give in to him, surrendering whatever resistance, rationale, repression to Choi San. 

You want more—you want seconds. Every swipe his tongue passes your lip, it makes your head float. How does someone taste this fucking good?

He pauses mid-way—barely a couple of seconds, to pull off his glasses and strew them across the desk—then goes back to devouring your lips. 

San would smile in between kisses when he hears your whimpers. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you tremble slightly at his touch. It all goes straight to his cock. 

He thinks you’ll be even more adorable when he ruins you. 

When San pulls back, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, watching your glazed-out expression with amusement. 

"I'd love to continue messing you up, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll deal with you later, sweetheart. See you next week.”

His touch lingers on your chin for a couple of seconds longer before he pulls away and shifts to walk back to his desk, leaving your heartbeat wild and erratic, and your thighs squeezed tighter.

Since then, that was all you ever thought about—the slight smile before his lips collided with yours, the way his words rang in your ears. You could barely meet his eyes. 

In more instances than one and with any chance given to him, he’d close up any physical distance he had with you. Worried that your emotions would bubble and overflow when he does that, you developed a habit of avoiding his eye contact. 

Even after classes, you swore he was casting you glances even with lines of students waiting to talk to him. 

“Did you piss Prof off or something?” Jongho asks as he shuts his laptop. 

“Why are you asking?”

He shrugs. “It’s just that he’s been eyeing you down like a hawk recently. Did something happen between the both of you?”

You freeze when the flashbacks of the taste of his lips return to your memory when you remember how hungry he looked just wanting to devour you. 

“Y/n?”

You blink, then force yourself to meet Jongho’s eyes. 

“No. Nothing happened. At least I hope I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You’re fine. There’s a reason why the department chair chose his teaching assistants.”

You laugh softly at his words.

But when you hear San’s voice from behind you, you almost jump. 

“Y/n, Jongho, the both of you can wrap up here and head back to the office”, he instructs. You feel his warmth radiating from behind, and it only makes your heart jump at the proximity. 

You watch Jongho slowly pack up, small conversations sparking between the both of you about his soccer practice. 

You glance at the door. San isn’t back yet. 

“I think it’ll take him awhile to be back. The students there seem to really like him.” 

No doubt, the female students for this class seemed a lot more assertive, almost always demanding all of San’s time. Well, not that it should matter. It’s not as if he should mean anything-

“Y/n? Are you okay? You seem pretty off recently. Even Prof’s pretty worried”, Jongho’s voice grounding you back to the cold office. 

You force a smile and shake your head. 

“I’m fine. I guess it’s just so much workload to deal with.” 

Jongho places his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “You’re doing fine. You know you can approach either of us if you’re struggling right?”

You feel comforted, even though your messy thoughts weren’t even about the workload, so you return an assured smile before waving Jongho off for his soccer practice. 

You’re wondering what you’re feeling nervous about, because when the door of San’s room opens, you jolt slightly. 

“You’re still here?” You hear San ask. 

“Yeah. Need to reply to some emails and double-check some of their assignments.” Not a total lie. It’s the swirling feelings he’s been giving you whenever that day surfaces in your mind, the small bouts of attention he pays you and the touches he lets linger a little too long that’s all a dopamine rush in you. You can’t help but want more. But in the same breath, meeting his gaze will allude doom for you. 

San nods as he sits back at his desk, going right back to his computer. The silence continues for awhile and you’re surprised that you’re even able to concentrate. 

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

Your gaze doesn’t break from your screen. “Hmm?”

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

You walk over, ignoring the way your heart is just pounding so damn loudly. It’s painfully obvious that San is staring right at your face, and it’s also painfully obvious that you’re avoiding looking at him. 

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

Your eyes stay locked to his screen reading off whatever is on the screen, and nothing is processing in your brain. 

“It looks good”, you curtly reply, trying to ignore the fact that you’re being stared down by a certain professor. You turn away, your eyes still not acknowledging San, only for your professor to stop you in your tracks. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?”

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

“Back to my desk?” You say, looking off into the distance. But San seems to have other plans. 

“You know ‘looks good’ isn’t the feedback I’m looking for, right?”

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

Now San has both his arms trapping you on his desk. 

You somehow still manage to avoid his sharp gaze even when you’re backing up against him, easily letting him corner you.

His belongings are strewn all over the desk when he pins you down. By some miracle, only papers flutter down his desk. 

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

“You’re finally looking at me, y/n”, he states the obvious. “Now tell me, did I do something wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t, sir”, you reply curtly. 

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

You shut your eyes and squeeze them. There’s no pure way out of this—your dirty thoughts are seeping into the smallest crevices of your brain, and the more San is prodding you, the more it makes you throb.

“It’s because that evening when we…” you feel your cheeks burn with every word leaving your lips. 

San is waiting for you to continue. 

“When we kissed…couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you’re honest?” He chuckles. “I’m gonna finish what we started sweetheart, like I promised.”

It makes your heart flutter. 

“Am I getting your consent for this?”, San’s voice rings in your ears. You’re finding it hard to focus, especially when his thumb is pushing past the corner of your lips, and you’re just growing wet as fuck. 

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

“Yes sir”, you reply back, trying to ignore the way your cunt is just tingling from the feeling of San’s thick erection pressing against you.

“That’s my good girl”, he praises before he dives in for a hungry kiss, his fingers roaming around your body, squeezing your tits before he unbuttons your shirt at an agonising pace. He smiles on your lips when he hears your soft gasp, and he presses his lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin against your neck, his erection growing tighter against his trousers when he hears you moan and squirm. 

When he’s satisfied with the light marks he decorated down your neck, his lips are pressed against your ear, and his hands are moving dangerously close to your cunt, and inevitably, your bottoms are off in seconds, leaving you in your pretty panties. 

“I would prefer fucking you on my bed instead for the first time, but taking you on my desk? Maybe not too bad.”

Your cunt squeezes at the sound of San cussing. You never thought he’d sound this fucking hot. 

He groans when his fingers press against the soaked patch of fabric hiding your pussy. All that wetness for him. He bunches up the fabric and rubs it against your clit, the friction drawing frustrated whimpers from you, much to his satisfaction. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and it’s driving you crazy.

San’s fingers finally hook against the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs, and pocketing them, much to your shock. 

And he doesn’t give you much time to focus on that because when he pulls his cock out from his unzipped pants, it makes your head spin from how thick Choi San is. 

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

“It’ll fit, sweetheart, like it’s made for me”, is all the warning San gives before he lines up to your hole and pushes his cock in. 

You can’t tell what’s fucking you up more—the way his cock is stretching you open or the San groaning in relief when he finally gets to stuff you full. 

You bat away your tears, his cock so fucking full inside of you, pressing against your walls, being squeezed so perfectly by you. 

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

His fingers brush across your cheeks, collecting your teardrops. His eyes lack any ounce of empathy. 

“Aw, are you crying because it feels good? You look so fucking pretty crying when I’m stretching you open.”

You barely find the words to reply to him, all stuck in your throat, your mind only flooded by the way San’s cock is buried in your cunt, your thighs trembling from the pleasure. It’s almost sickening. You know you shouldn’t be doing this—not with your professor, not on his fucking desk, but when he has you wrapped you around his finger and cock fucking the daylights out of you, it’s a temptation you can never resist. 

A soft hiccup escapes past your lips when San pulls out almost all the way, his cock covered in a sheen of slick and precum before he pushes himself in once more, groaning when you clench around him for the nth time. 

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. God, I could just fuck you all day. You’d like that right?”

You’re barely keeping track, eyes rolled to the back of your head while your thighs twitch from the pleasure, but you manage to hold the eye contact, and through blurry tears, you mutter a weak, “Yes sir”. 

“Of course you do”, San hums before he pulls out once more and starts fucking you dumb on his desk. 

No matter how much you try to cover your mouth, bite your tongue or your lip, your moans only come out louder in defiance, the dopamine shooting up your pussy over and over again whenever San’s cock hits your pretty spots. 

Your mind is addicted to the way San’s shirt is buttoned down his chest, his cleavage almost fully out for you to gawk at, the way strands of his hair cling to his forehead because of the sweat, the way his eyes roll back when he feels you squeeze him with every loud fuck, and the way he looks down to you from time to time before he eats up your pathetic moans with hungry kisses. 

He fucked you up so good, you didn’t even realise it until now. 

“S-San”, you manage out a whimper, “please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

“Please… you feel so fucking good. I’m gonna cum. It’s so fucking good”, you babble, trying to force your eyes open. 

San can’t help but smirk when his ego is being stroked so nicely like that, especially by you. He’s a good person, of course, he’ll give what his good girl wants. 

His thumb slides south on your body until you feel the ticklish sensation of him on your clit. Cream and precum pooling at the base of his cock makes it even worse for you—with every graze, his finger pressed onto your clit, the knot tightened in your stomach. 

Your nonsensical strings of words only push San to tease you more as he endearingly watches you break slowly when your orgasm builds up. 

Your body twitches, your back arches, your eyes roll back, white splashes beneath your eyelids. Your orgasm burning through you while you cry out San’s name and you twitch pathetically on his cock, letting your cream leak all over his wet cock. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?”, you hear San curse. He fucks you through your orgasm, the overstimulation building up. The sensitivity feels so fucking good. 

His hand catches your jaw, and he forces you to meet his eyes. 

“Wanna pump you full of my cum, keep you so fuckin’ full for days on end,” he huffs, “but not now, sweetheart.”

Not that you minded, but there’s a strange tinge of disappointment ringing at the back of your head. 

San thrusts into you a couple more times before he pulls out, his thick and wet cock resting on your pelvis, twitching as his hand takes over. 

Nothing can beat Choi San’s fucking face when he cums. He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, and he’s tearing up the sky because of you. His fingers leave light marks on your thighs, you hear him groan at such a low tone that your cunt flutters uselessly against the air. Translucent spurts land on your skin, but it barely registers in you—you’re too busy swooning over the way your Professor just cummed over your body. 

San’s high dies down, and he catches his breath, casting you a glance, red dusting his cheeks, before he reaches out for the tissue box to clean you up. 

A quick kiss on the lips before he goes on to collect all the papers all over the floor.

That night he drives you home, filling the space with light conversations as if he didn’t just railed you on his desk. 

It’s only when you reach home that you realise one important thing—San still has your panties. 

You know you shouldn’t be telling secrets to your colleague, especially when it’s about your fucking boss. But here you are, facing Jongho, who has his arms crossed in front of you. 

“What’s up with you and Prof?” You predict the words that leave his lips. 

You hesitate to tell him, unsure how you should even say it, where to even start. 

The worst part you knew clear as day was that nothing changed since that day. You chalked it off as San being swamped with assignments to deal with, that’s why the topic was never brought up again, but something still irked you. The only comfort you had was that the semester was ending, and so was your term as San’s teaching assistant. 

Maybe it was how it was meant to be. Just nothing more than that.

But when you realise the dreaded feeling prickling at the back of your eyes, you knew you were fucked. 

“I don’t know how to even start jjong”, you sigh. Jongho scrunches his eyebrows. 

You watch his expression switch from one to the other. You expected him to freak out at you, yell at you for unprofessionalism or something, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s so fucked up. But I just can’t help but wonder if he feels anything”, you mutter. The thought of you not being the only one he’s doing this with makes your stomach churn. But somehow, in the most twisted ways, confiding Jongho made you feel slightly better. 

“Well, looks like we’ll have to play that card I guess”, Jongho shrugs. “But you should mentally prepare yourself for the results, that’s all I gotta warn you. I just need your consent to play along.”

It’s a risky bet you’re playing, but drastic times called for drastic measures, right?

As the semester closes to its end, so does the workload. San feels a lot lighter on his shoulders, and while he’s grateful for his teaching assistants for lifting a significant amount of workload off him, the end of a semester meant the end of the working relationship between him and his teaching assistants. He usually doesn’t feel that much, considering he has had many teaching assistants in the past, but for some reason, he feels a sense of discomfort lodged in his stomach when he thinks about having to let them go.

Especially one of them. 

He sighs, removing his glasses from his nose and shutting his eyes while reviewing the exams. San feels like a fucking idiot when his eyes land on your empty desk, his frustration bubbling when you cross his mind again. 

Even though he pretends to keep himself busy by flooding his mind with work, somehow, you would bubble to the surface once more, pushing him into the pits of frustration when he’s reminded of the way you get a kick arguing and refuting him just to get a reaction out of him, the way you taste like sweetest thing on earth he’s ever tried and the way you completely unravel when San fucks every single thought out of you—

He bites his cheek. 

No. He has to keep it professional. At least, until the term is over. 

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

He knows he’s entered deep waters when he crossed the line that evening, the sight of you undone right before him snapping all his rationale. More than anything, he’s suffering the withdrawals, maybe that’s the punishment he has to bear. 

He glances at the colourful ticket at the corner of his desk. It’s Jongho’s big game. Even though he usually doesn’t let himself intertwine with his subordinate’s personal interests, it’s hard not to. 

In addition, you’ll be there. Maybe he’d snag you after the game and talk to you properly. 

The meeting ran overtime, San glances down at his silver watch, realising he’d missed almost thirty minutes of Jongho’s game. Despite the exhaustion, he pushes it aside and heads to the stadium. 

He watches the brightly lit scoreboard as he takes a seat on the bench, Jongho’s team is in the lead by one point. 

Somehow he gets wrapped up in the game, cheering when Jongho’s team takes championship as the benches all burst into loud cheers too. 

He gets up to leave, already thinking of drafting a text to congratulate Jongho in his head, maybe get him a small congratulatory gift on the side. 

Then he spots you, just rows below. Now, he’s walking down as if on instinct, to get to where you are.

San pushes past the crowd to approach you. He’ll offer to drive you back—he knows it’s all an excuse but anything to get you into his space once more. 

His arm outstretched, reaching out to tap your shoulder, then suddenly stopping when he sees Jongho appear right in front of you. That’s fine. San could just congratulate him at the same time—

Which all of those thoughts immediately disintegrate when he watches Jongho cup your cheeks with his hand, his eyes widening in complete silent horror as Jongho leans into you for a kiss. 

You seriously doubt that Jongho’s plan would work. Didn’t San decide not to come anyway? You heard it with your own ears too. 

Nonetheless, you pushed it to the back of your mind, focusing on cheering for your friend, watching the leading scorer jump from one team to the next. You couldn’t help but erupt into cheers when Jongho’s team won, screams echoing through the open stadium. 

You watch Jongho walk up to the benches where you are, and his arms wrap around you, his smile big and bright, competing with the stadium lights. 

“Congratulations, baby bear”, you tease, pushing against his shoulders lightly. Jongho inches close to you. 

“He’s behind you by the way”, Jongho mutters, loud enough for you to hear, but not long enough for you to process, because his hands are cupping your jaw, his thumb pressed against your lips. 

He hears you muffle some kind of question but your lips stay sealed. 

“You owe me one for this,” is the last thing you hear before he leans in. Your eyes widen in shock, and you freeze in your spot, even though his lips don’t meet yours, evidently separated by Jongho’s thumb, his action had caught you off guard.

You barely have the capacity to process what had just happened, and you feel someone’s warmth tightening against your wrist. 

Jongho lets go of you immediately, but you’re staring right at your professor, who is staring right at Jongho with an unreadable expression, with his fingers curled tightly against your wrist. It feels like an eternity since you saw him. He’s not wearing glasses today and his hair is down instead of his usual slicked-back look, donned with a simple dress shirt and tie which framed his wide shoulders so perfectly.

“Congratulations on your win, Choi Jongho. I believe you should be with your team to celebrate right?”

Jongho only smirks back. “Right. See you babe. Thank you, Prof. See you next week.”

Jongho casts you a glance, the mischief twinkling in his eyes before he turns his heel down the stairs and back to the field. 

What the fuck just happened?

And you find yourself staring up at the male before you, his gaze piercing into yours. 

“Prof—San?” You blink. “I thought you weren’t-“

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. Why would I not want to see the cute relationship my teaching assistants have right?” His voice is laced with venom. 

San doesn’t really elaborate further, leading you to his car, sealing your fate once more when the passenger doors close shut. 

He’s all over you. His body is burning up, maybe just as fast as yours is, and it’s making you feel dizzy. His moves are aggressive, impatient and you swear you feel something else too—desperation. 

“S-San—“ you gasp, in an attempt to take control of something.

“It’s sir to you, sweetheart”, his voice low and gentle, but commanding. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, making you shiver in response when his palms slide up your waist. 

You never saw it coming—from the second his hand grabbed yours, pulling you away from Jongho, his eyes locked into yours for a moment before he turns to Jongho, then to the car ride back, where you noticed the way his knuckles turned pale from gripping the steering wheel. On the walk to his car, you asked him where you were going, and all he did was turn to you and reply, “We’ve got things to talk about, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Now you’re becoming undone once more under San’s touches, trapped beneath him like the first time, now at his place, on his fucking couch instead. 

“It was just foolish of me to just let it be, wasn’t it?” He asks. “Fucking you dumb on my desk wasn’t a good enough indicator, was it?”

“S-sir…!”

“And you think it’s cute getting all cuddly with Jongho? Letting him kiss you all over, touch you all over?” San mutters, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his grip tightening slightly and you’re sure he’s about to leave light imprints. 

But oh, was it so fucking exhilarating—the thought of Choi San riled up like that, a sight you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure if fear or excitement running through your veins right now, but what you do know, is that if he finds out that your panties are completely soaked through, you’re fucking done for. 

His lips collide with yours again, branding himself as some kind of oxygen thief when he’s turning your mind into complete mush. 

“I’m not sure if it’s a little game to you sweetheart, but if it is, I think you need a reminder.”

You breathlessly look up at him, and he looks ethereal even when he’s panting and looking pissed as hell. 

“What reminder, sir?” You dare ask back. 

The side of San’s lips tugs upwards. His hand leaves your throat and trails down your blouse, effortlessly unbuttoning the apparel until he tugs it off you, panting at the sight of your tits hugged by your lace bra. Your bottoms are off again on the floor of his bedroom, alongside any ounce of rationale. Your soaked panties are agonisingly pulled off your legs, and before you know it, his hands spread them open too. It takes all of San’s self-control to not stuff you full. At least, not yet.

“It’s my cock you’re gonna cum all over. Even when you have another guy’s lips on yours, it’s my name you’re gonna fucking scream.”

Oh. Oh god. 

The pieces of what Jongho was trying to do suddenly come together, unfortunately, the realisation doesn’t last long because San has his lips greedily on yours again on top of the way his full-blown erection is pressing onto your pussy. 

“Sir”, you manage out a weak mutter when he finally pulls away, trying to press and grind against his clothed dick for some friction or anything to rid the burn that’s going through your body. But San remains still. 

“Use your words since you love using your mouth so much.” Like kissing Choi Jongho. 

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

“I really…fuck. I really need you to fuck me right now, sir”, you beg, red flushing your cheeks, but it’s not from the shame. There’s a feral glint in San’s eyes that you don’t miss. 

“No”, is all he answers, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“Not until I’ve fucked your mouth full, sweetheart.” 

All you can do is watch him speechlessly as he hooks his index finger on the knot of his tie and loosens it, unraveling it back to its original form. 

“Hands together”, he commands you, and you do so immediately, basking in the scent of his cologne while he leans into you, his hands tying knots around your wrists with his tie. “Don’t let it loosen, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

San forces you to watch him unbutton and lower the fly of his trousers, and you’re just doing your best not to get drool on his expensive carpet. 

When his cock springs out, you’re also forced to watch him fuck his palm at a slow pace, drinking in his groans, slick staining your inner thighs, and the fucking floor next if you don’t do anything. 

His cock is heavy against your cheek when he taps it there, and your tongue slips out of your mouth by instinct, given experimental kitten licks on his slit, before his fingers catch your chin, and he forces you to look up at him. 

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

You do. You do your best not to break the eye contact, trying not to be sidetracked by his big fucking cock, but your eyes can’t help but dart to his appendage. 

“No, keep your eyes on me”, he redirects once more, his fingers fixing your head in place. 

Then he slides his cock into your mouth and pulls out a choked moan from you. 

“That’s it. Good girl”, he grunts when you start bobbing your head, fucking his cock with your mouth. 

His fingers trail to the back of your head, but he’s using all of his strength not to force your head down. 

But as you pick up the momentum, it’s an automatic reaction to push your head down so his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes are watering but fuck you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Your head spins whenever his wet cock is forced down your tight throat, and you break eye contact a few times, which San has to tap your jaw to make you keep eye contact while he fucks your face. 

“I’m cumming, sweetheart. Fuck. Keep that pretty little mouth open for me yeah?” He groans, bucking his hips, letting streaks of warm white paint your throat and mouth, watching the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes, taking his cum in your mouth like a good girl. His good girl. 

He smudges his thumb against the corner of your lips before his arms carry you up, only to dump you on the couch.

Your back is on the couch again, hands still tied behind your back and legs up with San pressing his body weight on you.

He props your leg on his shoulder, and he stretches you open inch by inch. You gasp when he fills you up, your walls immediately clenching around him. 

“So fuckin tight for me, sweetheart. You take me so well.”

His thrusts are growing more aggressive mixed in with the possession that’s bleeding in and it’s setting your whole body on fire. Your words are caught in your throat when he’s buried into you to the hilt. He groans at the way your pussy is fluttering pathetically against him. 

It feels so fucking good that nothing but stars engulf your vision when his cock stuffs you full to the hilt again. His name leaves your lips like a mantra on top of broken moans and whimpers, and it only makes San fill up the space in your pussy all the more better. 

His shoulders are so wide that he’s towering over you, his fingers forcing you to face him whenever you’re drifting because of the pleasure, his eyes feral when you look so fucked out for him. And when he combines his heavy thrusts with a squeeze around your throat, it makes your mind shut off and your cunt cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, looking all so fucked out for me.”

 His cock is hitting all the perfect spots, and it’s driving you insane with the knot tightening in your stomach at such a fast pace. You think you’re sliding off the couch but San isn’t letting you—especially not when his thrusts are keeping you on the couch. His name continues to leave your lips in broken moans every time he fucks you. 

San snakes his fingers to your scalp and he tugs sharply, enough to force you to look up at him. You’re tearing up again, and it feels so fucking good with the way he’s keeping your hair tugged while he fucks the ever-loving shit out of you.

“My name does sound much better when you’re crying it doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You choke back a moan when he hits your g-spot once more.

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full sir. Want more. Please. Need you to ruin me”, you beg once more, your mind floating in an endless euphoria.

“Oh, I definitely will”, San hums, watching in sheer pleasure as your eyes roll back when his cockhead presses perfectly against your g-spot over and over.

Before you realise it, your orgasm hits you like fucking train, spreading through your body like a fucking wildfire, engulfing every crevice of your body. 

He’s gonna break you, and you’re fucking loving it. 

“San-“, you cry out, not registering the way he’s wiping the tears off your eyes. “So good. You feel so good. Cumming so much-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. It feels so fucking good doesn’t it?” He asks with a smile, satisfied when you nod frantically while he rubs your thighs.

Your thighs are shaking from how good this all feels, cream staining your inner thighs and his cock when he pulls out. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart”, San reminds you. 

He turns you over, keeping one hand on your tied hands, while the other pressing your head against the back of the couch. He lines his cock back to your cunt, pushing into your hole once more. You choke on your moans again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes until he’s fully seated in you once more. 

The sounds are even wetter now, especially when you’re overstimulated, pussy just being so perfectly abused by Choi San. You fucking love the way his hands are around your neck, forcing you against the cushions when he fucks you dumb from the back. 

Your stomach is in knots once more, the feeling building up faster than the previous time, and all you can mutter is that it feels so good. San thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you’re not having banters with him and being this cock drunk for him. 

Then he pulls you off the couch, letting you catch a breath before he sits you on his lap, his cock still buried in your cunt, and starts bouncing you off his cock from below.

He alternates between melting your brain with his pornographic moans right at your ear and planting more love bites down your jaw. 

“Gonna cum again. You feel so fucking good in me. Oh god”, you hiccup through your tears, the sensitivity pushing your limit. 

“Cum as hard as you want, sweetheart. I’ll let you milk me dry, fill you up so fucking good that you’ll be leaking with my cum for the next two days.” 

That was enough to set you off. Your pussy convulses when your second orgasm hits, fireworks bursting in your eyelids, long drawn-out cries while San fills your tight cunt with his warm and thick cum, while his groans fill up in your ears. You feel his fingers massaging your thighs, coaxing you from your high. 

You’re dizzy, and light-headed as your head slumps against his shoulders, too spent to acknowledge the male behind you leaving more marks down your neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” San breaks the momentary silence, well aware that his softening cock is still in you. 

Your hand flies up to his chest to stop him, even though you’re still recovering from seeing stars. 

“We need to talk-“

“After we clean up”, he cuts you off, lifting you off his cock and carrying you bridal style to his bathroom. 

But you’re stubborn. 

“N-no. It wasn’t what you thought it was”, you say, feeling your tears well up in your eyes on top of the weight. 

The prickles are starting to form at the bottom of San’s heart, but he’s more focused on trying to hose you down with warm water. But he’s listening you run your mouth, not that he minded. 

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

Now he’s just confused. He stares at you. 

“We just had sex, y/n”, San reminds you, trying not to let the red reach his cheeks. 

“No—I mean Jongho and I. We didn’t kiss”, you clarify.

San doesn’t really know if he should believe your words or his eyes, but now he’s focused on lathering your hair and body. 

“That wasn’t what I saw”, he replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s cause we did this-“ you huff, turning his head to face you, imitating the way Jongho had slid his thumb between your lips and his, demonstrating San the fake kiss. 

San only stares at you wordlessly when you pull back, only more questions than answers. 

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

Oh god. It felt like the more you explained, the more San was getting the wrong ideas. You let your head sit in your hands, unsure if it’s from the embarrassment or the fact that you don’t even know where to start. 

“It wasn’t a kiss, Choi San”, you groaned, your hands leaving your face, suddenly self-conscious that San is staring intently at you. “After we, um, fucked the first time, you acted like nothing happened, and I felt like shit about it, and I told Jongho and then…” you trail off, feeling your cheeks heat up again. It’s probably the hot water, at least that’s what you try to convince yourself with.

“I don’t kiss people I’m not in love with, San”, you sigh in defeat. Your eyes are downcast, but you feel his fingers cup your cheeks, and his lips press onto yours. You swear you could go another round again. 

The silence hangs in the air for a while, only the sounds of the shower filling the emptiness when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t do anything since after that evening because I wanted to properly tell you after the term ended.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

You blink. Somehow that shocked you more than the both times he fucked your brains out. 

You don’t answer him because your head is just swarming with so many thoughts, and San lets you do so, satisfied that he’s finally have you quieten down so he can finish washing you up. 

Even when he’s dressed you in his oversized hoodie, San peppers you with kisses, basking in the way you sometimes cover his face with your hands to stop him, which only rouses him to continue to attack you with his lips.

San’s arms are tight around you when the both of you are finally on his bed. You smell like his favourite body soap and he can’t seem to get enough of it—nuzzling against the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings. You think this is probably your favourite version of Professor Choi. 

Your fingers twirl around his splayed-out locks, and you speak. 

“Prof Choi”, you tease, and San looks up, and it’s the first time you actually see him pout—it almost makes you combust. 

“I told you to stop calling me that”, he frowns, burying his face, feigning trying to cut off physical contact from you, which only makes you laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to disturb you”, you respond, trying to yank him back into your arms. “I do have a question though.”

His head pops up from his pillows and he stares at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“When did you realise you had feelings for me?”

He pauses, giving himself a couple of minutes to think. 

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

“Prof Choi!” One of his teaching assistants calls out to him. 

He turns his head and attention to her, pushing up his glasses. 

“Yes?” 

“I need help with this part of the assignment. Could you help me check that I’ve marked it correctly?”

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

As he scans through her work, the teaching assistant’s eyes glance down at the band hugging his ring finger. 

“Prof, you’re married?”

San pauses his writing to glance at the glistening gold on his finger, and a small smile spreads across his cheeks. 

“You know, I used to wear a ring on my ring finger so students would stop asking me if I was married or not.”

She raises her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “So you’re not?”

“I am.”

Her eyes brighten, invested in her handsome professor’s love story. 

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

“All I can tell you is that she’s always been my favourite.”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @ywtf @woojirang @yuyusgirl

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[bartxnhood]

cowboy casanova | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: “Omg, how about Tyler Owens comforting reader on their first storm chase, maybe she’s really nervous or scared and he’s like don’t worry I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you… something like that???”

warnings: depictions of a tornado, reader has a panic attack. severe damage to homes and buildings.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: thank you for the request! i added a touch of a backstory to help the plot go forward. i hope that’s okay!! i’m also currently in the theater about to watch it again (i saw it last night lol) enjoy <3

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you see a man standing in a wide-open field, as the sky above you darkened to a menacing shade of gray. the once-gentle breeze turns into a fierce, howling wind, and you feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

you were assigned to follow him and his crew around while they chased these monstrous tornadoes then went in and dissolved the threat. you worked for a huge journaling company from the north, but you grew up in arkansas and became familiar with these devastating weather patterns.

now, you were in oklahoma where you’d be joining this storm chaser during a week-long chase.

“you ready to chase some storms?” his back was still towards you, and his southern drawl was familiar.

as the man in the maroon shirt and white cowboy hat, spun on his heels to face you, you were taken aback.

tyler owens.

“y/n?”

his blood ran cold, not expecting to see you after all of these years. you laughed in disbelief, “this is crazy..” you shook your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg.

“you’re the journalist?”

you and tyler go way back. the two of you were in school together, majoring in meteorology.he started chasing these storms, becoming famous on campus.

but, it all came to a head one day when you got trapped and lost your best friend. that’s when you dropped meteorology and took up journalism. you documented the destruction, the path, how they moved, etc.

and now, you were writing about who was called the tornado wrangler. you should’ve done your research but you didn’t want the assignment.

but, he had become so popular with his crew. they’d go inside the twisters and release a mixture to help dissolve the storm. and it worked.

“you’re the wrangler?” you ask, and tyler laughs. that signature laugh that always made you want to punch him in his pretty little face.

tyler turns around and rests his hands on his hips. “what do you see?”

the wind picks up even further, swirling around you in a dizzying dance, pulling at your clothes and hair. you sigh, taking a few steps closer till you are standing next to him.

“there” you point to the east, the air was thick with an unsettling hum as a dark mass loomed on the horizon. the skies darkened further, and a chilling gust of wind whipped up debris and sent trees bending at unnatural angles.

"another one" he murmured, eyes locked on the clouds as his adrenaline spiked and his lips pulled into a smile that he couldn't help but wear every time a storm was brewing.

glancing over at you he tried to hide the excitement in his chest that he felt when one appeared, but tyler knew hiding your feelings from another storm chaser was like trying to hide a tornado in an open field.

"how much do you wanna bet it'll touch down two miles east of our position" he teased, eyes scanning the clouds for clues.

“mm” you shake your head, even though you hadn’t done it in years you still had it. “three.” you continue, then point to the wind and how it carries against the wheat field.

“look at the way the wind is carrying. it’ll go east and hit north. perfect conditions,” you add crossing your arms

“i think you have yourself a ef5.”

uou had it. the intuition to tell where a storm was going to go by only looking at the clouds, the way the winds were blowing, and the speed at which the storm moved.

tyler had a similar gift, every storm chaser had it, but he had never met someone who could predict the size of a storm, which was a rarity he had never seen before.

“ah EF5, huh? i’ll hold you to that. If you’re wrong, you’re buying me a beer.”

tyler owens would be the death of you.

“i’m not buying you anything, owens.”

you load up into his truck, snapping pictures of forming a storm. he was flooring the red truck in a wheat field right towards the storm so he could get ahead of it.

“ya miss it?” he yells, over the thunder. occasionally turning his head to look at you. you say nothing, continuing to snap pictures.

“sometimes.” you blurt, not looking back at him. “i just don’t miss the destruction” you continue, rolling up the window and reviewing the photos.

“you were good,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes still taking glances at you. “mm” you just hum in response, not wanting to talk about your storm chasing days.

suddenly, a funnel begins to descend from the clouds, growing larger and more ominous by the second. the air around you crackles with anticipation, and you realize that you are witnessing the terrifying formation of a tornado. an EF5.

this was the second time you had ever seen an EF5 form in front of you, this was frightening.

you held onto your camera tightly as tyler drove right towards the black abyss. “shit..” you mumble quietly.

as the rain beat down on the windshield, the engine's roar could hardly be heard above the gathering storm.

tyler's truck sped through the wide-open fields, creating a trail of dirt and dust in their wake. with his eyes locked on the approaching storm, he clinched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel firmly like a man about to die.

he had chased tornadoes before, but never an EF5. the adrenaline in his veins was making his heart race and his senses heighten as he pushed the truck to drive faster, the roar of the wind and thunder in their ears.

“what a beauty” he muttered, admiring the sheer force and size of the storm in front of them.

as your heart pounded furiously in your chest, you felt a sudden tightening of the breath in your lungs.

your mind raced with panicked thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. you fought to stay calm, but the fear was overwhelming, like a living entity trying to consume you whole.

sweat beaded on your forehead, and your hands trembled as you held the camera. the world around them seemed to blur and spin out of control, like the tornado in front of them.

"tyler, we should go back," you yelled. tyler smiled, eyes fixed on the whirling green giant in front of him.

he yells, "not a chance, l/n. look at it!" as he maneuvers through the difficult terrain. “we can’t give up now!”

“stop!” you proceeded to yell, flashes of that night you lost your best friend. the way the sky looked, how it sounded, the rain on your skin, how cold you were. it was all flashing in front of you, experiencing the whole thing again.

tears brim your eyes, your body shaking like a leaf. “please! just stop!” you yell over the growl of the thunder clapping.

tyler’s heart sank to his stomach as he heard the raw emotion in your voice. he had teased you and challenged uou, but now it was clear that this was not just another storm for you.

it was a personal struggle that was tearing you apart and he had triggered it with his arrogance.

without a word, he stomped on the brakes and brought the truck to a screeching halt, his own heart racing against his ribs.

"y/n, look at me," he said, voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.

you’re gasping for air, pulling at the collar of your crewneck. the cab of the truck felt like it was closing in on you, you unbuckled the seat belt and tried to unlock the door. “i can’t do this” your bottom lip begins to quiver. “i have to..i gotta get out of here.”

you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. your mind is fogged with the traumatic experience of the last time you were caught in the eye of a storm like this.

tyler’s heart dropped as he saw you struggling, your gasping breaths and trembling body. he reached over to her, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from opening the door of the truck.

“hey, hey, whoa. look at me, look at me, please.” he pleaded, his voice firm but surprisingly gentle.

he reached out and took your chin, gently turning your head to face him. his eyes searched yours for a moment before narrowing in concern.

“y/n, listen to me. you need to breathe, sweetheart.”

your breathless, unable to think straight until your eyes meet his sea green orbs. you take in a deep breath and mirror tyler’s breathing.

inhale, exhale.

you repeated this until you eventually calmed down.

your hands continue to tremble as you speak, “tyler, i cannot do this. i just can’t.” hour southern drawl escaping. “it’s too much”

tyler watched as your rapid breathing slowly began to match his own, your hand gripping his tightly. his heart ached as he saw the fear and the anguish in your eyes, and knew that this was not just a simple fear of storms.

it was a trauma, something deeply personal, that had left a permanent mark on your soul.

he gently raised his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you. “i know, i know” he whispered, his own tone gentle and soft.

“ain’t nothin gonna happen to you, kay? i won’t let it.” he assures your worries, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eyes then tucked some hair behind your ear.

“i’ve got you.” he continues. you watch as his attention goes from you to the tornado in front of you. “if you want me to take you back i need to know, now” he says, looking back at you.

you sniffle, following his gaze to the twister.

if he could stop something like this it would be a huge achievement to the community. no more damage, no more homelessness. it would all be fixed.

“no..” you begin, and find your eyes back on him. “i’ll be fine.”

tyler nods, putting the truck into drive. one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching for yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll be fine, city girl.”

you choke out a laugh, and shake your head.

“then, let’s chase this beaut!” he yips and slams his foot on the gas and takes off towards the monster of a tower.